my drum is sometimes loud.

Everything in the store should be placed in an aisle where the space is clearly defined: here is where you shop, now, go at it shoppers, shop. When I leave stores that have cases, coolers, or displays near the door, it feels as though they are parting gifts and although I am aware they are not, something tells me one day I am going to wind up in handcuffs on account of a Slim Jim or Diet Pepsi mishap.

Sometimes I wish I could say I have a hard-on for something without sounding utterly ridiculous.
I am not sure there is an equivalent phrase for women. Total bummer.

There are ceiling tiles leaning up against the wall in the bathroom at work. They are the kind that break super easy across a jagged line (always). I know this because I have kicked through this type of material before; knowing the break-ability of objects was crucial to my early childhood development. This private moment of destruction is what I desire to do every time I am in there, resisting the urge an expectation beyond acceptable, work place or no.

I have these bizarre dreams where everything inside me exits all at once at high speed velocity, publicly. Fuck that whole leaving the house with no pants on thing, my brain assumes at some point this will occur normally and most likely, on a routine basis. The food poisoning x's a TREX, I dunno, that vision is crazy nightmarish.

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