Inspiration.

Sometimes I don't understand why I don't have a nice bed. I literally spend all my time in bed. If I'm not cooking, I'm in bed. I literally have turned into a pile of wet shit because I cannot seem to NOT HURT SOMEWHERE which prevents me from doing anything other than living in my bed. Obviously I sleep and fuck in bed. But it's more than that. It's my writing. It's my tv watching. It's my (un)comfortable table when I don't want to eat downstairs. I literally can do everything other than take a piss/shit on my bed but i guess i can do that too if i lined my bed with plastic wrap. I'm considering custom ordering a 6 foot wide roll of plastic wrap and put it on the head of my bed and pull down when needed. I suppose this could be rather disgusting, but when you're as nuts as I am, I guess sitting in your own feces on your bed could possibly be an option in life.

Anyway, I'm back to being an invalid. Not INVALID as in YOUR CREDIT CARD IS INVALID but IN-VAH-LID. As in, cripple. I donlt know what I did but I can barely walk and I'm a miserable fucking bitch. I bitch, whine, cry, whimper, screech, scream, growl, bite and anything short of having rabies. Rabies will come along sometime later this week when I'm still miserable and I'm found laying in the middle of a park at night being bitten by raccoons and squirrels. I bet that would be more pleasurable than laying in my God damn uncomfortable bed that makes me want to jab myself with blunt and rusty objects.

My point is that my bed is a piece of shit. It's been a piece of shit since I got it and I've done nothing but complain about having a shitty bed and have done nothing about it for nearly 10 years and now I'm suffering. I think beds should come with a counter and count how many times the best has been rocked back and forth during tantric sexy times and after X amount of uses it either releases biological weapons of mass destruction or it blows up. I guess that would be a tactical move for a fascist president, a career I'm strongly considering.