My name is Sam. I'm going to eat your dinner.

August 29th 1958 - 25th June 2009.

Long Live Steelo.

good kid, m.A.A.d city.

Friday night stereotypes.

Where's the rest?

Former cashier of the year Sam Patterson.

Just because you've left the co-op it doesn't mean you can reblog gay shit and get away with it. I'm telling Bill.

Feeling so fucking shitty right now. It’s just gone 3am and my inability to sleep since I got back from holiday is fucking killing me. When I return to work on Wednesday I’ll be falling asleep on checkouts n shit. Not that I want to return anyway. Thought a week away would do me good but the complete opposite has happened. Played 5-a-side earlier, went 5-0 up and ended up drawing 5-5. Fuck that. I could never take being a captain of a real team. Having a go at team mates isn’t my thing. Shit just makes me feel horrible after. Just want next weeks game to come around so I can put it right. Fuck, why can’t I sleep? I like sleep, sleep likes me, what’s the problem? I’m a cunt when I get my rest but I’m even more of a cunt when I don’t. My heart hurts as well. Had a few nights on holiday when heart palpitations interfered with my night out. I've been drinking alcohol regularly since I turned 18, my body needs to man up. Too many things to tick off this list in my head before I can get some direction in my life again. I'm up for the fight. Make me a cup of tea.

I want to be Frank Carter.

Happy Mothers Day.

Are you?

Live with it.