I'm fucking bored. I've been editing photos for too long. I can no longer tell which edits look good and which ones look bad.
I have much to write about Patagonia, but I haven't had the time. Soon, I promise.
Fuck it. I'm going to shower and go somewhere. Somewhere where the night can take me. I'm off until Tuesday, so I'm praying for possibility, or callgirls. The thing is, I don't want to have to call the callgirls. I want them to come to me. I want them to see my beauty and be utterly unable to resist. I want them to flirt with me, to discover my gentle charm and wit while they're on the clock. That way, they'll be on the cock while they're on the clock - but without me having to pay. Honestly, it's the least they could do. I'm a gem, a diamond in the rough. Rough. Rough Ryder. That's how Rough Ryder's roll.
Stop.
Drop.
Shut 'em down.
Open up shop.
Oh, no. That's how Rough Ryder's roll.
Okay. Here's a waterfall:
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