I’m gonna punch you in the ovary.

My god-awful job continues, where I sit in a catatonic state and occasionally mix it up with drool marching down my chin. I never quite manage to tune out cult boy (who drives me Kurt Cobain with his fucking Flanders grin) and the gunslingers continue to fixate on me as if I’m in a teenContinue reading “I’m gonna punch you in the ovary.”