T R U T H

Another night with the Hall of Shame dream: This one isn't Canton or Coopersburg worthy - it's like a live youtube of miscreants and assholes venting their contribution (or rather plunder of) in relationships that tubed. The Don Jon guy keeps pummeling himself for using m'lady's phone to video his ejaculation and forgetting to delete it. How can you feel sorry for that guy? My submission is called "in my mind my life was carpe diem but in reality it was carpe shampooer." Pity party stuff. Boo-hoo, I wasn't satisfied. It makes for a non-JBF wake up but hardly has any basis for happening in this millennium. The transference thing on Masters of Sex must have stuck in my forebrain. 1987 is calling and it wants it's debasement back. Did God lead me to the perfect life to make up for what he did to my hair and skin? I have the wisdom to skip the zipline but my congested brain taunts me with subliminal hints of guilt. Ah, in this era of House of Turds the guilt is like twerking points or ___________ (he's everywhere, he's everywhere)

7s today- no explanation "