Welcome to the Final Stage

My room smells like E. Honda’s asshole.

Seriously, it’s like a fucking third-world sweat shop in here. I’m sitting here in a wife-beater wiping my brow and farting. When I was staying in LA for a couple of months working on stuff with Wes, I got accustomed to a particular style of life (not that style, silly!). It mostly involved spicy asian foodstuffs and ramen bowls.

Well today was the Greatest Day™ because I remembered that there’s an Asian food mart about 10 minutes away from my house. I proceeded to grab about six whatevers and now it’s 3am and I’ve eaten half of them (I have also consumed enough beer as to reverse the effects of alcohol). Between the stagnant ass smell of ramen hovering around and the smell of my stagnant ass . . . well . . .

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