Today I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing obnoxiously with my OK GO ringtone that I purchased for 99 cents from utunes. Fuck Itunes. I picked up the little plastic piece of shit, still groggy, and answered in a hoarse voice--throat still dry from last night's semen sucking session--on the other end was a medical professional. The same motherfucker I had spoken to last week about my AIDS-esque symptoms. It turns out that I don't have the hiv; another negative in my life... Fucking yay, right? Wrong. I then received a text from my sister in NY (I live in vegas, mind you) informing me that my mother is in the hospital and isn't expected to pull through the night. While performing Felacio at the donkey show, she was kicked. Hard. Fucking eh, what else could go wrong?
By this point I'm frantic. Cold sweats, itchy asshole, the whole 9. I'm a fucking mess. After yanking my johnson to the point of chafe--nearly skinning myself raw--I pack up my pet lizard, Antoine, and head for the nearest cab station. Don't you fucking judge me. I masturbate when times are rough.