a series of urban events

I need a job that does not facilitate my need to cut myself. Or something. HA. Just kidding I don’t cut myself I drown my problems in alcohol. DUH. My blog really is like a car accident. Like seriously if I posted good stuff about my life on here would anyone actually read it?

NO I DON’T THINK SO.

So I think I am like the manager now because I totally hired someone this week. I love the new guy so much that I want to put him in my pocket. He has been carding at the door and keeping out all the people who don’t have ID so I don’t have to. I give him free drinks and I would tip him also if I ever made money.

Also I hate the new hip hop promoter because she has a stupid nickname that she makes people call her so instead we call her FAT BABY because she is fucking retarded. Also she put this really ugly picture she took of me on her myspace:

Okay and seriously this is really old and it must’ve been taken on a day I inhaled some secondhand crack smoke or something. But I told her to take it down and she laughed at me. She said the picture was good but this comes from a person who also has a picture of her own butt on her myspace. You can’t trust the opinions of skanks. Thats like a rule.

Also if you come to my bar and you have a tab and you want to buy your friends drinks then you have to have a password on your tab. The password has to be something dirty too because I need amusement. Usually it will be “I want to fuck [whoevers tab it is]” and then people will come up and be all I AM NOT GOING TO SAY IT BUT I WANT A DRINK ON HIS TAB. And I will be like say it bitch. And finally they will say it and I will call them a whore because they just said they would fuck that guy for a six dollar drink.

Usually this only happens on hip hop night.

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