The Cannabilistic Gourmand: An Irrelevant Title

Note of Vague Interest: You may (or may not, more than likely) find it interesting to know that I no longer have a shred of faith in the female gender as romantic companions.

I kinda wish I were latently homosexual, so that I could resort to that. I am not precisely certain if misogyny could be considered a lifestyle choice or not, either; shame, that'd be an interesting parade.

I think it would've been great if the government had given me a grant for the experient in women I've been performing up until now, working to ascertain some conclusion, too; classified under a women's study or somesuch, of course. Would've saved me a buck or two, ultimately; oh well, not the first time I wasted money.

My sense of value of money is pretty low, anyway, so I can't honestly motivate myself to be bitter about the fiscal investments I've made in the few women with whom I was slightly involved. I can convince myself, however, to harbour a grudge over the overall return in emotional and mental investment, though! It's hard work trying to understand the wholesale gibberish that ends up flowing forth from a woman's mouth whenever they try and tell me why a relationship is infathomable.

Rest assured, a rant will be down the line on all of this. Until then, I have this quote with which to leave you:

"I've got a face only a mother or crazy bitch can love."