behind the mastermind

i don't think we would love to live in a perfect world. think about it. no, really, think about it. can you grasp the ideal of perfection? the thing is, what i consider perfect, wouldn't be perfect to you. like if i say:

i would love to have one woman for each day, each and one of them selected by me and to do exactly what i want them to do when i want it. i would fuck some of them, others would do shit for me, like cleaning or organizing my life, complete simple task, go with me to the movies, pay shit for me, buy me stuff, work for me so i can rest and fuck some other girl, do groceries (with her own money), play with me, kill some one i don't like (wait, in a perfect world people i don't like are kept in torture chambers, so i can watch them get wasted). and simple stuff like that. that would be one step closer to living in my perfect world.

but that's not happening. you think that in a perfect world, people will speak their minds and forget about being polite and just be dead honest. take for example yesterday. izza and i went to give our move-out notice (because we're moving, you know). the girl --a pretty nice girl, i may add--, asked us if there was a particular reason to move-out. i thought about all the crap we have endured since we moved there but i didn't say anything. instead, i said that it was cool. izza wrote that we were buying a house, as if.

then, she asked if there was something she could do to make us change our minds. we said no. but that sentence striked me.

is there anything i can do to make you change your minds?

well, you can start by letting me fuck you up the ass here in this desk while izza watch. i think of saying that. it was the first thing that crossed my mind. it wasn't a lie. i was just being honest. that might not convinced us on the spot, but i would've considered to possibility if she'd offer herself like that. so, no, there isn't a place for a perfect world in this life. maybe next time, punk. maybe next time.