03/05/2013 - I THINK I'VE SEEN IT SPELLED OUT SOMEWHERE

                I think I've seen it spelled out somewhere. The DNA swab and serial number and all other forms of ecstatic malady. In many ways, I'm particularly precocious whenever I'm in long distance fat fryer equipment. It has to stay that way or we'll fling cocktails into thankful dawns. There is a physical match and a laughable snort to boot. Access to bored skylights gives the level mind foresight even from behind the barricades of broken pistols. These criminal attorneys have little to no concern over veiled threats and sitcom privacy. The passenger does nothing but disappoint the Navy Marine with his adages and driving licence stories. Making sense of lacerations is not actually part of the job description, it's inconsistent and driving us ever downward. The co-pilot wears his badge lightly and makes a low ascent into doorbell quaintness. Head wounds, the lot of them.

            Norse boyfriends want us both dead in some shape or form. I've been there a few times, all hot and heavy with sticking out ears. It must suck to be pissed off all the time by doing something you know you'll later come to regret. It's quicker to cheat in the heat of anger. One time I lost all my chin fuzz in a crash but now I'm on my way back over the moon's buck teeth again. Overalls make love an impossibility over long, despicable gaps. In the meantime we'll verify the baby's father and then set fire to the appropriate Vegas leads. That's a given junction to our morose ancestry. The mother's forgot during their childbirth, somewhere between epidurals no doubt.

            I'm not the sort who talks and demands quiet subsequently, I will let you know all about the jugs and the oil reserves before the little finger descends and repeats disaster all over the hectic vomitorium. Don't do it here sonny or you'll regress into runway pesticide and no mother will have you for her cribbage tournament. Erasmus is aghast at the possibilities of even the slimiest modification, it frustrates him beyond concentration to recognise all the information he must process all at once when the deadline looms and none of the other fuckers will stop and think 'Hang on a sec, maybe we're laying it on a little too thick perhaps.' Instead they expect everyone to be at the same superhuman reading speed, expect that people can doing anything anytime without so much as a hat's clatter on a kitchen countertop. It's hard, it really is hard to keep up with lots of shit that insists on skateboards as their main mode of transport. Downhill it is truly an epitome of manic, vastly unforgiving compared to the forces of gravity. Motherfuckers will push you because they think you'll benefit but you won't. You ultimately will never be able to find the next rung. Just ask your local GP.

            I really do hate to leave this burning ball of exaggeration, it makes me punch in ways I'd never get to away from the hairy trickery of attainment.