I have pissed around all week and wasted the whole thing, every day of it, hour of it, second of it. Gone. Done. Over. I have done nothing all week. Really nothing. I'm not just trying to sound like crap to be clever, I have been actual crap and there has been nothing smart about it. I am rubbish... smile... this week, anyway.
No, I'm not proud of it. Ha, ha! Big smile.
The cream and meringue and passionfruit of life all over my fat face and my stubby little fingers that are wider than they are long, making snorting noises like a wild pig looking for truffles, oblivious to the sheriff taking away my possessions.
Like all sensible fat chicks, I should wipe the pie crust from my hands, lick the cream from my fingers, hide the footwell of my car with a blanket, stop crying into my apple pie and buy myself a vibrator.
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