COMPUTER MAPS ARE RUBBISH

I want a map that gives me the layout of the day.

Like breakfast.

The map of waters is south in agitation. That is when they cry. What is wrong you you little wimp man up be a man bear the burden of men are you man enough what are you fucking gay.

The litany of things their fathers tell them. Usually sucks ass.

Their fathers have failed them.

To lift the sea from under.

Breakfast says it all.

Masturbation is a morning topic and the revolving door of champagne.

Being too loud about it is banging on the grand piano. The emotion too far exceeds its cause.

Why are you crying so early in the morning.

Because I don’t miss them.

Miss who.

My parents. I don’t want to be with them. What is wrong with me.

There’s garbage on the floor. Do you guys know why they make brooms.

No, Tim, but I’m sure you’ll tell us.

Who made this coffee. It tastes like pee.

How do you know what pee tastes like, Tim. (general laughter ensues).

Someone used all the hot water why is Cameron crying you wimp.

He doesn’t miss his parents.

If someone makes me toast and coffee, I will give them a good morning kiss.

They leave the kitchen like roaches when you turn on the light.

I am on my own with the tarantulas.

I want a map that locates what will go on today.