15 days of absence is better than 358.
Brothers + Sisters of the International Social Scene:
First things first: Mr. Arnold Palmer, the Golf King, was welcomed into Heaven today at the lovingly tender age of eighty-seven. I never even thought of writing the heart-wrenchingly sad news on such a post as this, the second post after 2 weeks and 1 day of absence. I hope this post is worth the thought process. Now let’s get to the nitty gritty of football, then some other business other than the sports spectrum itself.
Denver walloped the piss out of the Bengals, twenty-nine to seventeen, on NFL on CBS. Redskins kicked the Giants on NFL on FOX, twenty-nine to twenty-seven. Buffalo smashed the hell out of the Cardinals also on NFL on FOX, thirty-three to eighteen. Vikings struck the Panthers on NFL on FOX, as well, twenty-two to ten.
I’ll look up the Cowboys vs. Bears score either later on in the wee hours of Monday, or just tomorrow night. All I know is moping in coffee is involved.
I chose Victor Cruz and his love from Google Images [photo credit goes to the original website] for the Featured Image of this post. The image from the last post I wrote is of a beautiful Glock.
I just started bullet journaling three weeks ago today (Sunday, September 4), thanks to an influence on a Marie Claire website article on bullet journaling with a YouTube link from the bullet journal creator himself, Ryder Carroll, and I’ve been catching up on my projects since then. I skipped a few days, but it’s okay. I’ll be able to get used to organizing my life back to the newer edition of normalcy with my sons (dogs), Bernie and Otis, eventually. Everything’s Eventual, after all, right?
As I’m typing this post out, I’m copying audiobooks into my laptop, which, for the most unfortunate part, has less space because of no internal hard drive, on social media, listening to Pandora, Slacker, iHeartRadio, and organizing OneNote 2013 sections. [Mom just got pissed at Pops again….you don’t want to know why; I’m sorry for the inconvenience.]
This adulthood shit is getting on my fucking nerves, and I’m fucking sick and fucking tired of adults pushing me to the insomniac’s point of no return (as in: lost sleep due to looking back on past shit and adulting all over the fucking place), so, therefore, if I’m diagnosed with chronic insomnia, please BLAME my mom at every cost for that shit. I know I’m not alone in the Sleepless department, you know. A sophisticated redneck like me should not be sleepless in a Greek-style city like El Paso. My mom’s a complete shithead. Excuse my French, my siblings.
Plus, I have to go to the bathroom because I have been drinking too many Rockstar Energy Pure Zero Mango Orange Passionfruit.Energy Drinks and 8 bottles Pepsi Cherry Vanilla Cola all fucking week. Blame that on the adulting factor that has been giving me little to no sleep for the past three days.
Remember Baby Brianna Lopez? Her deadbeat ass mother got out on 2 years parole Thursday, and karma is sodomizing her ass right now. The KFOX News at Nine said so. I never cleared that bitch since I was ten years old, trust me on this one. I hope the bitch gets her ass shot dead in her own fucking residence so I won’t be thinking about it again. I am so fucking flabbergastedly disappointed.
I’m fifteen minutes late for bedtime, seventy-five minutes late for my nightly dose of my Abilify. Too late to turn my ass back now, eh? I need to prepare myself to give my mother fifty bucks to get her hair did Wednesday [she’s in need of a job herself], and make sure I get evidence that I didn’t spend all the money on anything I pleased. I wish a motherfucker would try to get me so pissed at her for her greed, which is often.
I’m almost done copying Gone Girl in audiobook CD form. Next is End of Watch by Stephen King. Finally, there’s Dark Places by the Gone Girl author, Gillian Flynn, herself. Here’s to wasting the next seven hours and forty minutes, which I wish to be worth the damn writing shit.
I’ll be up all night. I have no sleep intentions, so finishing up Twilight (#1) will be the least of my problems. If you excuse me, I need a bathroom break, so, I’ll have another post coming in an hour and thirty-seven minutes from now, y’all.