Why Twitter sucks
There are loads of reasons but the biggest one right now is that I just visited twitter for five lousy enraging minutes and discovered that there exists a stage production of the ocean at the end of the lane, in London, and I will never ever get to see it.
This news adds yet another layer of crap to my rapidly expanding crap sandwich of 2020. And It’s only the third! What the heck.
THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO BE MY YEAR OF REDEMPTION AND RELEASE AND RENEWAL AND REJUVENATION. All the Rs
Alright. Alright. Let’s just calm down everyone. Hopefully we will all be dead soon. But in the meantime, I think the universe is testing my resolve. The path is difficult because if it was easy I’d already be there.
Right?
Right.
And at least we still have furious masturbating. I won’t let them take that away from me! Also they cannot have: my sad masturbating, my I’m hungry but don’t feel like cooking masturbating, my I’m incapable of feeling genuine love for anyone masturbating. Those are mine. Maybe they can take my I’m too old for this shit masturbating.
Here is one thing I will be happy about before I try to sleep tonight: I am going to have some bloody Marys on Sunday.
