This is my happening and if freaks me out, man!
With my glock I'm a plottin' ass rotten mutha fucka.
I fucking hate Garfield.
I made $120 last night!!! I gave 5 bucks to each of the 17 year old bussers that I have crushes on, and spent 30 on boozin, so I guess it narrows down to 85, but still. FAT dollaz.
Today as I was rollerblading my hangover away I had to pass by not 1, not 2, but 3 people in electric wheelchairs.
I felt very uncomfortable. It was like we were both rolling, but mine was an occassional hobby, Not, like, what I had to do at all times. If I was in a wheelchair I think I would kill myself. I hate enough shit NOW, if I added not being able to walk to the occassion I think my bitterness would just overflow and I'd become completely intolerant of all life.
But I also saw a dude running with a personal trainer, and the guy ran like some sort of dying penguin. I started laughing (out loud, I was still pretty drunk) and looked over and this creepy old man with a cane and an enormous hat was talking to me but I had my headphones and was rocking out (Black Betty, ramalam) so I couldn't hear him. So I skated off.
Oh the adventures you have while rollerblading!
Last night we had Part 1 of Elena's Freedom Fest. She dumped her boyfriend earlier this week and just wanted to get wasted and hook up with dudes. A dude stumbled out of her room this morning so I guess she succeeded, but I have neither confirmed nor denied these suspicions. It was the same dude who drank like 15 shots of vodka and was telling me how sober he was and then spent the last half of the night puking, so I'm kind of hoping that if she DID bone him she at least didn't KISS him.
Post vomit kissing is a big NO-NO. At least in my book. And my book is the only book worth reading.
Fuck to you!
This fucker last night wrote his phone number all over my bathroom, INNAPROPRIATELY. First, some background information.
The walls of my bathroom are COVERED in drunken writing and pictures. I provide markers. OBVIOUSLY I am awesome. I give you a place to write, and this piece of shit writes in places that are obviously not meant to be written. IE: My shower wall, the toilet seat, the wall outside of the bathroom, etc. Then he left creepy notes all over Elena's bedroom telling her he loved her, told T that he was in love with her as well, ate all my crackers and almonds, and then assumed he could sleep in my bed.
Okay now, everybody together.
W-T-F?
(480) 650-6076 is his number. HA.
I'm going to call him and say, "I'm really glad you left your number last night so I could call you and tell you to NEVER COME TO MY PLACE AGAIN."
K, Thanks. I played beer pong last night when I was blacked out and couldn't stand and WON. I am so amazing.
I just ate so many grapes it would blow your mind.
This is my happening and it freaks me out, man!
I fucking hate Garfield.
I made $120 last night!!! I gave 5 bucks to each of the 17 year old bussers that I have crushes on, and spent 30 on boozin, so I guess it narrows down to 85, but still. FAT dollaz.
Today as I was rollerblading my hangover away I had to pass by not 1, not 2, but 3 people in electric wheelchairs.
I felt very uncomfortable. It was like we were both rolling, but mine was an occassional hobby, Not, like, what I had to do at all times. If I was in a wheelchair I think I would kill myself. I hate enough shit NOW, if I added not being able to walk to the occassion I think my bitterness would just overflow and I'd become completely intolerant of all life.
But I also saw a dude running with a personal trainer, and the guy ran like some sort of dying penguin. I started laughing (out loud, I was still pretty drunk) and looked over and this creepy old man with a cane and an enormous hat was talking to me but I had my headphones and was rocking out (Black Betty, ramalam) so I couldn't hear him. So I skated off.
Oh the adventures you have while rollerblading!
Last night we had Part 1 of Elena's Freedom Fest. She dumped her boyfriend earlier this week and just wanted to get wasted and hook up with dudes. A dude stumbled out of her room this morning so I guess she succeeded, but I have neither confirmed nor denied these suspicions. It was the same dude who drank like 15 shots of vodka and was telling me how sober he was and then spent the last half of the night puking, so I'm kind of hoping that if she DID bone him she at least didn't KISS him.
Post vomit kissing is a big NO-NO. At least in my book. And my book is the only book worth reading.
Fuck to you!
This fucker last night wrote his phone number all over my bathroom, INNAPROPRIATELY. First, some background information.
The walls of my bathroom are COVERED in drunken writing and pictures. I provide markers. OBVIOUSLY I am awesome. I give you a place to write, and this piece of shit writes in places that are obviously not meant to be written. IE: My shower wall, the toilet seat, the wall outside of the bathroom, etc. Then he left creepy notes all over Elena's bedroom telling her he loved her, told T that he was in love with her as well, ate all my crackers and almonds, and then assumed he could sleep in my bed.
Okay now, everybody together.
W-T-F?
(480) 650-6076 is his number. HA.
I'm going to call him and say, "I'm really glad you left your number last night so I could call you and tell you to NEVER COME TO MY PLACE AGAIN."
K, Thanks. I played beer pong last night when I was blacked out and couldn't stand and WON. I am so amazing.
I just ate so many grapes it would blow your mind.
This is my happening and it freaks me out, man!