I imagine this is what becoming a zombie must feel like. Or at least what the incipient stages of throat-emanating zombification feels like. It hurts a little, then it hurts more, then you figure you might as well not move... I only wish I was becoming a zombie. Then at least something good would come of this gaddamn illness
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don't worry, i'm not at the beach either. i'm sitting at home, much like yourself. no illegal substances were involved in the beach today, so you wouldn't want to be there anyways.
who would of thought that you, not me, would be the one no one saw this weekend.
p.s. i'll make a phone call to coach hay for you about your sickness. that way you won't get in trouble.
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oh wait, you didn't go to england either.
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p.s. he's the only one i call honey. it's not a good thing or an endearing thing, it's a mocking thing. no need to worry.
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