Don't Fuck With The JJ

so i was walking through kroger at maybe twelve or so and i said to myself, maybe i need more juice to drink as i am running out aka already out. so i look to the juice department and i find a lost relic of my childhood: Juicy Juice! i havent had JJ since i was in like seventh grade. i bought strawberry banana, and watermelon. when i last had it, there was only apple and peach flavors. so i sat down (when i got home) and poured myself a big glass of watermelon JJ and...it was pretty horrible cos i forgot: i hate watermelons! why did i buy watermelon JJ? fuck if i know. all i know is that i have again found JJ.
by the way, not to be an asshole, cos i hate to be an asshole and stuff, i hate fucking reggae. maybe my roomate should turn it the fuck down; he's "studying" aka "getting lit the fuck up" cos i dont know anyone that studies to reggae, and meanwhile my clock says its like 1.30. fuck. i shut my door when he's trying to go to sleep as well as turn my music or whatever down, and i dont fucking practice my drums after 8.00 pm or before 1.00 pm. fuck. also, someone in my room poured or had a friend pour water in my clothes sometime last week; i assume as a joke, but i didnt notice until like when i was washing them at home, meaning a few shirts and a pair of shorts had started to sour. fuck. thats just fucking great. i just bust some motherfucking computer monitors, but unless i bust my own, its kinda obvious who it was. fuck.
alls i know is that i need some sweet sweet motherfucking revenge. yehhesss. revenge. like a crowbar to the back o' the head, rpg style. also i need to drink more. brittany? ben? someone? send me booze...my po box (heh) is box 352 at 3000 woodrow way atlanta ga, 30319. yes send me rum or whiskey. shitty ass vodka is for suckers and rich people, two mutually exclusive states.
also: fuck.



(cos who doesnt need another fuck?)
z out