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Story No. 32542
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Sometimes you just have to give up the dream, get a day job, make babies, and grow old. Sometimes you get that lucky break
where the beer flows like water and the girls are as plentiful as bombs in the middle east. Such a break may never come, but I spend my days waiting for it. Much like your mom spends her time waiting for
a man to hold her, to whisper sweet nothings into her ear at night. In other words she is waiting for
to save her from her misery. She wants to find that one man that can take her away from this place, the darkness, the sorrow,
the misery; oh how i hate new york in the winter. Everything is way too gray.
Who knew that the world would be covered in gray paint? I don't think anyone saw that one coming. Colors are like that sometimes, though.
