They Call Me Leo

I fucking loathe having to paint anything in a house that isn't mine.  I've done a lot of painting since my stay across from the Hula Hilton.

Today my job was to repaint stairwell first, rip old carpet off stairs, and replace with new carpet.  And screw down the squeaky stairs.

Painted.  Tore up old carpet.  Pulled out a ton of staples.  Put in some screws in three treads.  Cut new carpet and nailed it down with a staple gun.

Piece of cake for the normal guy.  Granted it only took me 6 hours of work, occasionally checking in on crackbook.

But now I have a case of rug burn on my knees because I refuse to wear San Fransisco Sandals.  That's just gay.

I was supposed to get me some booty last night but I didn't feel like renting a room after making a generous donation to the casino.  Parents still ain't letting me have a fwb over at their pad.  Won't happen.

Being a single guy, getting laid does a lot for you.  It's like chicken soup for the soul.  I got to get some every few weeks or I get to feeling wound up tight, my nuts feel like they're in a vice when the plumbing gets backed up.

Tomorrow the parents are planning an overnight trip and that means I'm getting some ass.  It's been a few weeks so I feel a little agitated at the moment.

Ciao for now!

Yours truly,