I guess it IS Easter...

The propoganda Fatass used to lure
a then-16 year old into bed with him.

... but that does NOT give you an excuse for fucking like jackrabbits for a week straight. Today I walk in from work study, figuring Fatass would be in class like he normally is, seeing that he's trying to graduate this May. Nope. He and Bess are in the room fucking.

Now, I figured that he'd at least have the common decency to say "hold on a second" while they get decent, but nope. I open the door and a blanket is being hastily thrown around them. Look, I know that Bess has spread her legs so wide this week that even Madonna is getting jealous, but I do not want or care to see their fat naked bodies pressed up against each other while the scent of Fishy Joe's fills the entire room.

I mean, I don't think it's that much to ask, really. There are almost 3 weeks left in the semester, and it's to the point where even as a communications major, I have shit to do. Right now, I'm typing away in a computer lab because I'm sexed out of my room. It's a good thing I've already finished my major project that's due on Friday. Did that this afternoon, because I had a feeling after spending every night fucking at Bess's grandma's house, they'd come back here for some afternoon delight at my own expense.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mind afternoon sex. Hell, if I wasn't so busy, I'd try to be a member of the Starland Vocal Band, but no. College ain't about this. It took me a good long while to learn that, but it's cool to do whatever on the weekends (IF YOUR ROOMMATE IS OKAY WITH IT), but once Monday hits, it's business in the mornings and afternoons.

Fatass, I've tried to talk to you about it and I've tried to reason with you, but this just crosses the line. Next time I see your fat hairy ass sticking out from under a blanket while you smother your girlfriend in your bitchtits, I am going to take that knife that you hide in your closet and chop your fucking balls off. I'm sick of this shit.

As you all can see, I've picked one hell of a time to start the blog back up. After seeing much more of Fatass and Bess than I would ever care to see, I proceeded to vomit in my mouth, like any other human being that has... what's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah. MORALS. Anywho, after that, he has the nads to say to me, "Sorry for the mess."

Yeah, you're lucky I'm not having a bad day or I would have said something to the tune of, "Hey, if you're cool with your mantits, I guess it's not my place to compl... oh, you're talking about the clothes on the floor." Damn you, hindsight.

So now my day (and night, by association) has been ruined. I've been scarred for life, I've gotta deal with the horrific smell of the wharf in my room for the rest of the day, and I've got to actually be in my room to do the rest of my homework. I'm not sure Fatass knows what that is, unless he breaks it down into small syllables, but even then, I think he may think "home" means "pussy" and "work" means "cock". Yeah, maybe in porno films. And I've got news for ya, buddy. Your prick isn't big enough.