Dear Diary,
I went to do some cooking and opened the wrong side of the Cayenne Pepper putting about three tablespoons full of the stuff into the pan. Needless to say the meal was incredibly hot, a bit like R. or K. Tasty. Spicey. Hot.
Anyway, whilst in between mooning over my ex, I perhaps shpuldn't text her when I'm this drunk. I just miss female company, even if all the birds around here are bitchy, with no sense of fidelity.
Right now I seek the 'Special Stuff'. Moonshine. Hardcore. Drinking from sun-up 'til she sets. Aye. We must recite Shakespeare, Marlowe, and pass out in eloquence.
Maximus Fleximus.
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