You know they've moved me around like 4 times this week? This facility is fucking beautiful. Why don't they let me work here?
Because then it'd get to my head. Those bastards, they’re so slick! These Detroiters, they aren't Americans. They couldn't be. They’re French. They smell like it. So what does it say about me that I really like Macy's cologne? I'm a whore.
Every time I get off work, I remember that I'm single now (I know) so I actually have to find stuff to do again.
And hence this album is goin' smooth.
The feeling behind it is really shameful, real disgusting. It's so fun, right? I think I'm enjoying myself just a little too much. Is there another downswing on the way? It was rough for a minute, but I'm doing good now, y'know? We're still tight, a real friend is irreplaceable, but it's something weird about the citizens of the pink triangle. They're always hanging around, its never a total split. Everybody knows everybody.
I do hope that I am a welcoming sort of lady, right? That I'm moving towards the right stuff? My coworkers are such an easy crowd to riff with, they think im the funniest bitch alive. I haven't even told a joke yet.
I do have to admit though, dear readers. It came back a little. The illness, it's starting to work it way through again. I remember I put my sunglasses when I was starting to develop early symptoms. Sometimes I think it mighta made 'em uncomfortable, but I'm starting to lighten up.
No comments:
Post a Comment