(no subject)
my throat still hurts from three weeks ago.
i hate a lot of things.
but last night at denny's was wicked funny. i wanted to call samantha wicked bad but it was midnight and i figured she'd be sleeping. i don't know.
so instead of getting a fifth car, chris is trying to fix the grand am for me and i find out today whether it's fixable or not. i sincerely hope so, because if not then i'm going to get some stupid tercel that my mechanic neighbor has. and i will be displeased. because i was REAL excited about having matching cars with amy.
yeah, and it's six twenty-seven and i am sitting in my parents' home. because the new yorker is no longer reliable. what the fuck.
1985 cutlass supreme.
1990 chrysler new yorker.
1993 saturn sc2.
1993 pontiac grand am gt.
i have had the same amount of cars as my forty-two year old mother.
hot damn i get shit done.