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[Jan. 11th, 2009|09:47 pm] |
New York City. Center of the fucking universe and whatnot. Can't exactly say it's great to be back, because who the fuck really thinks that? Yeah, like my life is instantly so much better just because I'm back in this shithole. I mean, honestly, nobody comes back to New York because they really want to be there. Sure, that's why they go there in the first place, but that's just the wide-eyed kids who think they're gonna make it big or something like that. Fucking bullshit. Still, it's better than L.A. That place was faker than Pamela Anderson's tits.
Of course, it might have been better if I hadn't been dropped here by a fucking tornado, like some sort of fucked up Wizard of Oz bullshit. Don't think I'm gonna be putting on a gingham dress and ruby heels. Perry told me I don't have the legs for it...really fucking random non sequitur on his part, by the way. And speaking of? I was getting his dry cleaning when I got dropped in the big apple, and it didn't come with me, so I'm pretty sure he's gonna kill me when I get back. Right after he laughs his ass off when I call him to ask for a plane ticket because a fucking tornado dropped me in NYC. Fucking hell.
I'm Harry Lockhart, in case anyone gives a damn. I'm a private detective. Sort of. |
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[Dec. 13th, 2008|01:07 am] |
Okay seriously what the fucking fuck is going on? I turn my fucking back for one fucking second and there's some fucking weird ass thing picking me up and fucking christ man.
I need a fucking drink. Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on? |
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