Joy-Sprites!

I need to get my tattoo fixed up. I've known this for a while now, but some part of me doesn't want it to be. I got it when I was 18 (as soon as I could) and I feel like it's a part of me. Well, obviously it *is* a part of me, but I kind of like it the way it is. It's not terrible looking or anything, but it could certainly use a touch-up. The capital B isn't as defined as I would have liked it to be. Bohemian. Something that still cracks me up a little, no offense Davies, was his tattoo being spelled wrong :P God, that blows. He got it fixed, and it looks fine, but it's just pretty humorous.

I gotta say, I'm a damn fine waiter. A lot of my co-workers are lazy and undisciplined when it comes to their job, but me, I'm always busting my ass. I guess that's why I get defensive when someone comes down on me for just working and not having anything else on my plate. Granted, I should, but still. I'm a hard worker. When people tell me that it feels like an insult, because they don't know how sweet I am at what I do, and how much hard work it takes to be at said level of sweetness. But I'm not bitter, I like my job. It's fast-paced (pretty much the only fast-paced part of my life) and it keeps me on my toes. Also, it's a gravy-train, and any job I can describe using the words gravy and train is good in my books.

Fuck gravy is delicious.

I'm trying to eat healthier as of late and it's working pretty well. I don't really know how to cook though, so it's a little stalled at the gates. Not only am I unfamiliar with how to, but really, I hate to spend 45 minutes to an hour preparing a meal which will then be demolished in less than ten minutes. It just seems like a waste of time. Obviously it isn't, cuisine is one of the mankind's oldest true arts, but I don't like to invest my time that way. I prefer convenience. And on top of that, my supply of cooking ingredients is somewhat 'limited'. But I'll make due. Always have, always will. If I didn't know better I'd say I was a trucker, because good God almighty, I keep on truckin'.

I've not been smoking for a measly 3 days now and already my body is coughing up phlegm like a motherfucker. It's kind of gross, but I know it's helping me, so I'm cool wit it.

Alright I'm gonna head over to my buddy Crowder's now to chill with my main man Ky and, of course, Mr. Ryan Crowder. Peace to everyone. Let the turmoil in your minds settle and rest, clearing the air for a festive dance of joy-sprites. Joy-sprites know how to have a good time. Having sex all over the place with one-another, lusty little creatures they are, and they live within all of us. Just make sure that if you're going to let the joy-sprites guide your body to go with the right person, or people. It's important. Not only for yourself, but for those that care about you. Nothing sparks jealousy amongst friends like drunken mistakes and half-hearted fucks. Once again, peace :)