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Current mood:  bitchy
just got back from the show tonight at automata chino. i think we did the best we could to try and sound like a two piece garage rock band. but seriously, we need a bass player. IF YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW PLAY THE BASS... come on over. we've got a spot for you :-)
the show was fun. i got into a fight with some drunk dude. he was talking shit about my colitis-ridden figure so i told him to go fuck himself. he tried to apologize, but i wouldn't accept and continued to tell him to go fuck himself and back the fuck up or i was going to fucking hit him. oh, how i wish he didn't back up. eric and i would have killed the dude. oooo i'm so fucking angry. i know. he's just a drunk dude. shouldn't let it bother me. but this dude was too fucking much. drunk or not, who the fuck are you to come and insult me after a fucking set? fuck you. and if you're reading this, i hope you die.
moral of this story: don't talk shit about my colitis. or total.
UPDATE.
WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT BIG FOOT?
~sick boy
6:21 AM
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