Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A Certain Sort of Happy

I suppose calling it "A Certain Sort of Happy" isn't exactly appropriate. My blog has gone long-since unupdated for several reasons. For one, [AGENCY WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED WHO GIVES OUT MONEY FOR SOMETHING YOU MAY OR MAY NOT BE ABLE TO DO CONCERNING A WEBSITE] decided that they would have to send me a check in the mail soon causing them to decide that my blog was quite obviously illegitimate. It's not like I ever write several walls of text at a time and decide to post them here (See, guide to niggering, guide to ruining your life, etc.)

Anyway, I'm going to try to re-enable my [PRODUCT PROVIDED BY AGENCY WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED THAT PROVIDES THE SERVICE BY WHICH ONE MAY OR MAY NOT BE ABLE TO COLLECT MONEY VIA A WEBSITE] and possibly maintain some semblance of an actual blog to adhere to  [AGENCY WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED WHO GIVES OUT MONEY FOR SOMETHING YOU MAY OR MAY NOT BE ABLE TO DO CONCERNING A WEBSITE]'s vigorous blog standards. Its a very exclusive club, of course, and they're not to be taken lightly. For those of you who have read Harry Potter, it's sort of like a He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Henceforth, such company shall be referred to as "Faggotfucks." Keep that in mind for future reference. 

Anyway, lets see. In the past I did a lot of writing about drugs. Drugs are bad, mmm-k? That's a second reason this blog has gone entirely ignored. You see, I don't do drugs anymore. That throws inspiration off, but at the same time gives time back to the internet. I feel there's some merit in being able to say I've lived in a literal crack-house smoking crack and doing IV heroin all day. If there's one thing I've got to say for these people, its that they're fucking resourceful. Even with no jobs they find a way to work up $40 for a bag at least 6 times every day, and that's on a slow day. That's $240 in one day. On a slow day. Better days over $1500 could easily be blown. It's astounding. You strip cars, you sell other people's things, you return things to stores that you never bought, you flat out rob people, you rob drug dealers for their crack/heroin, you rob drug dealers who don't sell crack/heroin for their money, you flat out sell stolen cars without even bother to stripping them with a fake name and deed, you sell counterfeit money, etc, etc. If the rest of the people of the planet were this fucking resourceful, there would be no poverty. The drive that comes along with drug addiction is astounding. I once robbed a fucking train. Yeah. Like a motherfucking cowboy. A train.

There's also the downside. When deciding to quit, you learn that withdrawal is an absolute bitch. Heroin withdrawal is terrible, but it can be fought by tapering yourself off and getting through the 2nd-5th days by using crack. It involves these horrible leg cramps and you're always on edgy and you generally feel like crap. Sometimes you feel like you'll shit yourself quite soon, and you're quite lucky if anything you eat doesn't taste like a nutsack sandwich. The crack gives you enough energy to get off the dope though, which is cool. Only coming off of that is horrible as well. It's like a haze, really. A fog in your mind and your mobility. Have you ever heard the term "Thorazine Shuffle" ? Yeah, its kinda like that. You feel as if you may very well have made yourself permanently retarded. The only cure for this is binging on xanax and alcohol. You won't remember any of the horrid withdrawal. The problem with THAT is the two combined can be fatal quite easily. The alcohol withdrawal can give you violent tremors and the xanax can cause all sorts of memory loss. But thats how you do it. Thats how you beat drugs. You realize how much EVERY BIT OF THAT SUCKED and there you go. 

Now that I'm done with the drug references...
Can you believe some fucking nigger broke my laptop? I had left it in my yard while I went into the house to take a piss, and they picked it up. I came out, and saw this nigger opening my shit in the middle of the street, grinning like a monkey who just found a god damn banana. Upon producing the loaded 9mm sig 1911 and saying something along the lines of "Dear sir may I please have that back," he fucking THREW IT TOWARD ME INTO THE STREET. It made it roughly two feet. So he fucking kicked it the rest of the way. Then he ran. I am now the proud owner of a laptop with a completely broken screen.

God dammit.

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