"Yeah, your chest hair kinda does look like the bat symbol."
- Dante Le, I fucking told ya so.
Day 7 of 30: I'm like, super, super close to failing, this is just too intense, I think tomorrow might be it so to those who are still going strong, good luck, you're all more of a man than I could ever be, more power to you.
Chilled with mumsies and her husband heaps lately, going to dinner at her place every night, shopping at Mt Ommaney and even taking over some of her shifts at work. I never used to notice these things before but spending a little more time with mumsies has gotten me strollin' down memory lane, the ally ways of memory lane.
I remember when I was in primary school, there was this time mumsies was in a bit of a bad mood and when I went to see her, she threw a glass plate onto the ground and the shards sliced my ankles pretty badly, I don't know why I'm recalling that now, I just thought it'd be nice to remember that it's not as smooth-sailing as people make it out to be. I'm not doing this to spite mumsies, I'm sure I'll find out what was happening at the time from her one day, just like everything else. It's hard to get her to talk about her life to me, to anyone really but that's probably because I don't bother finding out half the time, the fact that I don't live with my parents probably doesn't help either. There was another time where I did something wrong and she grabbed a broom and tried to smack the living daylights out of me but I grabbed the broom and broke it with my knee on the spur of the moment and ever since then I don't think she's tried corporal punishment anymore (on me anyway) and I sorta regret doing all of that, should've taken it like a bitch/man/whatever because seeing her so helpless towards me is scary and unnatural and does more damage than any broom to the butt could ever do. Shit's fucked, yo.
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