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Out of context: Reply #813
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F*CK! F*CK! F*CK!
Johnny Ramone is dead. God DAMMIT!
Gidget called to tell me. I'm sitting in the old school Valley burger joint and I yell, "F*ck GOD!" when she tells me. Got most everyone's attention. I was unapologetic and remained unexplained.
I go to the hip Los Feliz store and every single thing in the large chock-full-o-shit warehouse-sized store reminds me of her. She has ruined my life.
I stopped into the barber where I used to get my haircut and my pal is back. Philly didn't work out. LA's the hardest place to leave on earth. Santa Monica's worse. I'm not getting outta here alive.
AND if another f*ckin woman tries to explain to me that cancer is from being angry or from not expressing your feelings, I’m going flip my prostate.
The double-cheeseburger/large iced-tea combo was the ticket.