Crazy mofo in the morning.

I finished my project proposal outline at 5am. I passed out by the time I bound the shit.

Some crazy fucker called me at 9-ish am but hung up by the time I picked it up and never called back. The voice mail sounded mutilated, all I heard was “Kimberlee…chik chik”. I’m almost sure I could recognise the voice, it’s the fucker, lets call him blabbermouth, the fucker who doesn’t know shit but pretends that he does and bloody babbles like he does, just cause he had lived in Manchester for 4 years, probably as some bloody illegal immigrant.

He fucking ruined my plan to sleep until 3pm, wake up with a flat tummy and submit the shit. Now for some unknown reason, I can’t sleep, my tummy’s bloated from yesterday’s 6 course supper and I’m farting non-stop. And I’m bored and I want to eat. I will even pray now, just please, give me some sleep and bitter receptors for the tongue.

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