I got done with what I needed to tonight, and instead of torturing myself with alcohol and very attractive young women, decided to check up on the lottery results, only to lose my mind with rage. Come to find out, getting hammered and torturing myself talking to females that I would and probably could split in half was pretty close to the answer, except the whole torture part.
I hate alcohol, almost as much as our innate nature to always look for greener pastures.
It's almost dawn. Gaaahhhhhhhh what is wrong with everything.
I'm fine. **** you. Seacrest out.
When you are drumming, imagine the drums are Mark Jackson's face.