The heart wants what the heart wants. And it wants to SMASH!
Why is life so cruel? Why can I not be hurt by bullets, tanks, lasers, shovels or nuclear-grade plasma blasts; and still succumb to the wounds inflicted upon my heart?
I so liked you lady at the bar. I don't really remember your name...or even what you looked like, but you smelled nice. And you treated me like a person. Sort of.
Why must you lead me on only to break my heart at the end of your shift? I have feelings too. But unlike my ruggedly handsome face, they can be hurt.
LC
Ummmmm...I'd just like to go on record and say that this was totally not all my fault.
posted by Liquid Courage at Monday, December 05, 2005
4 Comments:
SK took the tool box away from me after Bongo and I tried to fix the refrigerator. And the microwave... And the toilet. And after the idea to make a trash shute to outside didn't pan out.
Monday, 05 December, 2005
Umm...they WERE evil. And spooky looking!? Sooo...they deserved it. See? They deserved it! We're in the clear.
Monday, 05 December, 2005
*sigh*
God dammit, Liquid Courage.
Monday, 05 December, 2005
Dude, seriously this bartender better not be The Bartender, who is my therapist. Dammit man I hope you haven't screwed it up for everyone.
On the up-side, if this is just A bartender, I know a great place we can go to 'therapy'. I'll buy the first round, unless it was The Bartender (my therapist), in which case I'll kick you in the nuts. You'll be damn near invincible by the time I find you, so it'll probably hurt me more than you, but it is the priciple of the thing.
Monday, 05 December, 2005
Post a Comment
<< Home