Random Acts of Awesome

These are things I'd like to think about and have a clear idea of in my head before starting a business plan for the food cart: What I want to get out of it What I want others to get out of it Where I'd like it to be in 2 years, 5 years Where I'D like to be in 2 years, 5 years Basic design theory I'd like to suscribe to... homey, modern, edgy, funny, macabre Color palate Music  Location Type of cart - Truck, fixed in place, small, large, medium Amount I'm actually willing to put into this Do I have the personality and discipline to start something like this and actually finish it.  Do I WANT to start and finish this More to come... 

Yep. Just some ads I've posted over the past couple of years which have gained me some AWESOME results... Feel free to plagiarize. :D  Oh, Reality. Why do you fail me?? I have been enjoying a short stint away from the realities of other human beings. I’ve been focusing my energy inwards, allowing myself the luxury of staring at myself. And it’s been fun. Intense, even. Truly getting to know yourself, to become passionately intimate with the inner workings of your own head? It’s wonderful stuff. For the first couple of weeks. But now I find myself a little boring. After all, I always know what I’m going to say before I say it. I got into the infuriating habit of finishing my sentences for me. I’d find myself rolling my eyes at a story I’d heard a thousand times. C’mon, self. It was funny the first ten times, but god. Get over yourself. And that’s when I realized. The romance was gone. I could no longer find pure fulfillment inside my own head. I’d stare into my eyes, and there’d be

I wrote this awhile ago. I should have had it on here before, but I keep forgetting about it. Today reminded me :D.  I can almost feel you pulsing inside me Your rough hands grasping my ass Your breath hot and panting against my neck As my hands frantically pull and scratch at the wall in front of me And moans fall from my lips in time with your thrusts I look down, and I see the yawning chasm that your cock is pounding me towards Inch by slow, heavy inch, I slide closer My mouth opens on a silent scream And I give up, I let go I fall I soar for a moment But you ride my body to the bottom, biting my shoulder and bruising my hips in a desperate attempt to not let go We crash together with a jarring thud Gasping for breath and boneless You roll away, and I lie there Shuddering, my skin rippling with the aftershock