My dad told me over hotel breakfast that he thinks he has cancer. Mouth full of all-you-can-eat scrambled eggs I paused to say fuck?
This was hands down the best hotel breakfast I’ve ever had in my god damn fucking life because A. they had a large assortment of tiny single-use jams B. the coffee was decent and C. the toaster was of the belt feed nā fall out of the bottom variety.
Last night I dreamt I’d washed my hands and dried them with a sheet of LSD Blotter Paper and was pissed I’d accidentally gotten high.