Imagine a breed of cats that stays kittens for six months and then dies.
They named a disease after me. —You are a disease.Bob, my roommate… Heroin Bob. Oh, Bob didn’t really do heroin. In fact, he hated needles. Bob’s irrational fear of needles was in contrast to everything you’d think about the guy. I mean, to look at him, you’d think he was a madman, which he was. But he was also one of the most uptight guys I’ve ever met. He didn’t do anything about the cut on his hand. Nothing. I mean, absolutely nothing. He just wrapped it up in a dirty old T-shirt and he left it like that for weeks.
(Source: tobyeatons, via diaryofamanchild)
(via fuckyeahtoronto)
