GO SHAWTY - IT’S YO BIRTHDAY

And you know we’re gunna party like it’s your birthday.
Maybe sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday.
And you know we don’t give a fuck cos it’s your birthday.

[laughs]

23? Shit, bitch you old
And this might sound cold -
But no one likes you no mo’
Least, that’s how Blink’s lyrics go.

They say age makes you wise,
So take off your young person disguise,
Gandalf - you ain’t fooling this chick,
I can see your wizard stick.
Nahh, I’m just playin’, you ain’t that old yet.

Now, as far as friends go,
You’ve got an average flow
I can forgive that though,
So long as you vouch,
For me next time I spill red wine down yo couch.

Look.
We weren’t friends to start,
But then we got smart,
Enemies to frenemies to friends to the best.
Don’t see you for a week, it’s a real test. 
Pretty happy I found you, like Nemo.
ILY gurl - no homo.

But seriously, if I was a guy,
And, like, seven feet high,
Stylin’ fluorescent pink ties,
Who gets drunk and cries,
About my cat that died,
Who constantly tries,
To pick up yo fly -
Self. Would you still like me?
Shit, I wouldn’t even have boobs,
But I’d let you play with my moobs,
We could eat sugar cubes,
Listen to Ice Cube,
I could be a famous rapper,
Write raps ‘bout wanting to tap ya.

Alright G, it’s almost midnight.
I feel I’m losing this fight,
To stay up to text you this rap.
Maybe I’ll have a nap?
Nah fuck that.
I’ve gotta post this on your wall,
So all the boys will fall,
For my mad skills, right?
I’m like Napoleon Dynamite.
Except a better dancer.
And romancer.
“OH FOUR”
Hey, I ain’t no whore.

I’ll see yo fine ass tomorrow,
I guess I’ma have to borrow,
your love of Sambuca.
Cause it’s your birthday - your say,
And it’s shots all day for Sammy J.
Fucking cray.

Shit, it’s almost time,
To post my rhyme, 
I don’t want your wall to look lonely,
So I’ll end this with two words, homie:
‘You’re gay’.

Ha.
Just playin’
Happy Birthday!

I was in a really shitty mood after work for various transport related reasons.
So right now I’m chilling myself the fuck out via The Postal Service.

You know when you’re in a bad mood so you start thinking about every aspect of your life that you’re unhappy with? I do that all the time as if I’m trying to make myself even angrier. I turn into this masochist just making myself madder and madder with nothing take it out on. 

Fuck life. Fuck work. Fuck customers. Fuck money. Fuck debt. Fuck errryone.
And my shoulder hurts real bad. It’s been like a month of pain now.

Maybe I need watch the end of the Notebook and have a good cry or just a few orgasms over Ryan.

But anyway.

Now, for no reason at all, here are a bunch of pictures I took of myself today.

So, for whatever reason, I decided drinking Tequila straight from the bottle was obviously the best option as it saved time pouring shots.
Sandro likes straight Malibu.