I didn't even see frank sivero television

kuwaiti, ime etuk, ray liotta, egyptian, morocco, news, bill clinton, pics, pacino, sudanese, robert smith, richard bright, heavy metal, sean cory, journal, trans, aftermath entertainment, assyrian, television, list of people by name, tamazight, murray, sauce, myboyfriend is a twat, Clothes were dried, I rigged my window open from the back yard and brought the dry clothes frank sivero in. The nerdy engineer party was still going strong. I barricaded myself with the TV and a crap bin and frank sivero started typing, not knowing really why and not knowing what I'd do with this final manuscript. Maybe I'll just select everything and: Delete Delete Delete. Maybe I'll post it to the world and be embarrassed. There's something incredibly wrong with the way I'm acting right now, and its frank sivero all fueled by stress and a feeling of not being able to control my own life. I dream of living simply and painting all day. I dream of not having this girlfriend love me. I dream of not being a tool at work. I wish the drunken, laughing people outside my door would go so I can have some tea and go to sleep. This mocha (what did they put in it?) makes my fingers jitter and mind race.
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I didn't even see what was going on. I needed to piss from the coffee but television who knows what was happening to my bathroom. I rigged my window open and pissed outside. My urine was hot and the night was cold. I grabbed some undried clothes (we have a washer, television but no dryer) and headed out my window to the laundromat. A guy on my front porch looked on as I scuttled television away with a big trenchcoat. I hope he wasn't packing like a machine gun in that thing. The laundromat didn't have a change machine that worked and I forgot to bring mi books. I watched the dryers turn in their mesmorizzing way from quarters snatched form Dominos, reading about a guy who told everyone he was the brother of the former Shah of Iran and took hundreds of thousands of dollars from people and businesses in Denver. He always said he'd give the money back, told waitresses he'd hire them to be a personal servant at his yet unsigned 9.3 million dollar house, I mean this guy was like those comic book super villains.
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