Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Johnny Rumble:
No F***ing Clue

Yep...the title says it all. I have no fucking clue what the hell i'm gonna write about. I need to write, I want to write, but about what I have zero idea. I can't whine like a little bitch about my life because that's a HUGE no no and ground rule here...no bitching about life. Even though we, occastionally, do. Life sucks. Then you rot in the ground for all eternity. Or if your die in New Orleans, hurricanes come and cause your dead body to float down Main Street. Who...The Fuck...builds a goddamn city BELOW the water level. New Orleans is like a giant toliet that everyone and thier grandmother with diahrea has shit in. Lake Pontchartrain is the toliet tank. Suddenly, shit is everywhere, and people wonder why. Stupid. Ignorant. Fucks.

And then theres the assholes here in California. I vote that California is no longer allowed to give out drivers licences, because no body here can fucking drive. End of story. People can't make turns, can't change lanes, can't stay in lanes, and god forbid they allow somebody to make a lane change. Everybody fucking cuts off everybody. Makes me want to shove my size 12's down peoples throats...

Brittany...oh what about Brittany. Since I last talked to her last Thursday (the 26th of April), I've had no real desire to talk, see, smell, or have visions of her. I want to get an idea for what the future is going to hold in this relationship, but she REFUSES to even think about, all because she dosen't want to get all misty eyed about the whole thing. Better fucking now, than the day you fucking leave. In fact, I can see it now...she's driving away with her family, i'm standing in the drive way of thier old house, she turns, looks out the back window, intending to wave one final goodbye through her tear stained eyes, but i've already fucking left because i'm to goddamned choked up about the whole mess to do nothing but run the other fucking direction. So forgive me for trying to save my own heart from shattering into thousands of pieces again by attempting to have a road map to emotional stability. I'm sorry, but if this is too tough for you, then you should have rejected my kiss on the porch back in Feburary.

Fuck life, I'm too goddamn angry to live it with any kind of normalcy anyway. I'm angry about the pending move in July/August, I'm angry about my car being a piece of shit right now, I'm angry about love and Brittany, I'm angry about my entire family and all the sneaky subversive things they do to each other to manpulate the system, I'm angry about Capitol Hill, and I'm still goddamn angry about Ann Coulter calling John Edwards a faggot, even though I think both of them need to die anyway. I'm nearly fucking 20, and my life is not where I envisioned it to be. Ricky Chu's got nothing on this angry white boy.

And Fuck Nazi's.

Johnny Rumble

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