close to me is so fucking good.

i was thinking about something very important and philosophical that i wanted to write about. i was in the shower. and i reminded myself not to forget what i was thinking of. but i was still cloudy. it was pre-exfoliation.
pisser.

and boys dont cry... jesus, this shit is amazing.

i still can't remember.

dear doctors office,
if you don't send my goddamn (i thought i'd given that word up) prescription asap (ie: two weeks ago when i ran out) i am going to lose my fucking mind.
and then my job.
and then my apartment.
and i'll be homeless.
and have to move into the subway (preferably under the 4,5,6- much nicer crowd you know).
and then i'll have to live with mole people.
and procreate with them.
and make mole babies that have bad teeth.
and dress them in grocery bags.
and i'll have to sell all of my worldly posessions for crack.
and i'll have no more fur coats and sky boots and ipod.
and i'll die.
not from lack of heat, running water, or food.
but because i'm a shallow, superficial, selfish asshole and i can't live without material things.

FUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK.
all because of you, dear doctor's office.
and your lack of dropping my prescription in the mail.
and why don't you have a messenger service like everyone/everything else in manhattan. i need a manservant.

beepbeep!!!