I don’t think
I will EVER
learn my lesson.
I walked in the back door
of our loft building
and there was this
fugly-ass 70’s sofa
with a For Sale sign on it:
$30.00
Just a few days earlier,
my 3rd wife
told me that she needed
a new sofa.
I called her,
she was thrilled,
and I painstakenly slid
the damn thing
to her loft.
Well,
the next day,
“Thank you so much Grant,
but it’s too big for my space,
I’m sorry,
thank you for bringing
it down for me,
but I can’t use it.”
My idiot brain
is geared
towards helping people,
connecting people,
hooking this person up
with something
the other needs.
Stupid.
It never works out.
Get THIS.
Last night,
I went with my friends,
Michael and Ashley,
to the W Hotel
with the intention
of giving Hollis
a “little triumph”
since she knows
that the boys
are going to win
THE “HOT BY AUGUST” FUCK-FAT CHALLENGE.
We decided
to ACT drunk,
and ACT stuffed,
and tell Hollis
that we fucked up
and broke our diets
which would
leave her THINKING
that she was in
the best position to win.
It was a noble effort,
I promise.
jaja jajjajaj
Well,
that BITCH gets up today
and spouts all over
george bush’s intranets
and the googles
that Michael and I
both fucked up
on The Challenge.
I feel like I live
on the set
of the
I LOVE LUCY
show!
The best laid plans
don’t always yield
the intended results.
So now,
Hollis says
that I have to pay
everyone who saw me last night
eating sugar, dairy, or flour
$500.00,
which was MY IDEA!!!
There are NO WITNESSES possible.
Yes,
we were at Trader Vic’s
watching the amazing
TONGO HITI.
THIS MUCH I know is true.
I drank 3 glasses of soda
water with lime.
I ate 6 little grilled chicken finger things
on a damn wooden skewer.
I ate a small salad
with no bread
or cheese.
No Dressing.
SOOOOOOO,
Hollis can never
find out the truth.
She’ll feel duped,
which she was,
she’ll feel a set back,
which she has suffered,
she will still lose
THE “HOT BY AUGUST” FUCK-FAT CHALLENGE.
Lord,
it just does no good
to comfort the disturbed.
The only thing
I’m good at
is disturbing the comfortable.
