Ambien,,,How I love thee...oh and what you do to thy...

...thy head. You really fuck it up. Like right now. I guess I should calm some of you right away and tell you I am not typing from the drivers's seat going 90 miles per hour towards the local Dairy Queen. Or anything with a carb would do. Not fussy right now. I like the way we got to know each other real well as I was trying to eradicate all sorts of....bleamishes...from my face. Yes, I am the face of adult on set acne and using the word bleamish just doesn;t sound right. Yes, these "bleamishes" I've come to know so well up close in my mirror can only be described as Terrorist Pimple Regime. They not care for me. They want me to have puss filled boils all over my face. They laugh at benzoil peroxide. Then they laughed at me using the benzoil peroxide because SWEET JESUS MOTHER I AM BURNING IN HELL would be the only way to describe the Proactive treatments I've been torturing myself with. Thankfully, I have AMbien. No wait, thankfully there is a less painful way to remove seven layers of skin from your face and it's called Salicylic Acid. Who wants oil when they can have acid. heh. I'd take the acid. But back to the Ambien. Your one cool cat. I owe you for this little trip. You know where to find me.