In which my brain tries to eat itself, which really isn't as entertaining as the other way around
"and comics make it better" was too long to fit in there.
...
This? Is the best Christmas story. Evah.
...
The twenty-five million dollar question (which looks like this all written out for those of us who will never see that many zeros in all of our lives combined: $25,000,000) isn't where's Osama (except it is), it's why the hell does my head hurt so much so often? My uncle's partner, who's a doctor or at least plays one very convincingly on TV, had me write down when I get them, how they feel, and what's going on when I get them.
It could be stress and not eating breakfast that made me not care about that final I had at 8 AM on West Bank today. Because, I had one, and I really didn't care about anything else. And my hands kind of smell like they do when you have to handle bones when you're not entirely certain they're fake or not. I should get lunch and chug more pills. Was it Tylenol or Advil you can take a lot of? Oh, what does it matter my liver's probably beyond shot and I didn't even do anything fun getting it that way. I should really be studying for that Spanish final, but I can't make myself care when the left side of my brain decided that it would be a tasty snack (and not in the good way. See above.) But, I don't know, maybe a different doctor would be a good thing. Jones Soda sure would, though.
Did I just say "sure would?" What the hell, am I Little Ronnie Howard from the Andy Griffin(sp?) Show all of a sudden?
Mom bet me a fiver that I didn't fail my Anthro final, because I did have a mini-freak out moment after it there. I don't care anymore though, because I am done, doneski and donezo with half of my science cred. And if I fail out of Spanish, whatever, I'll take Polish or Russian like I wanted to in the first place. Why did I care what my parents wanted me to take, anyways? It's college for fuck's sake and I'm paying for most of it.
Fucking dammit. My head hurts. Maybe I'll take a walk.
But hey, you know what? After my Spanish final I'm going to go home, sleep with my dog, and then I'll find the bus route to the nearest comic shop and blow half the enormous paycheck I'm getting Wednesday there.
...
I'm watch Tyra Banks' talk show. She may be a whole lot self-absorbed but she gives out the good stuff for her Christmas gifting show. I'd go to LA for the $400 earrings to sell and keep the money. I would enjoy $400.
...
Oh, man, this mood theme has done wonders for me. Picking out a Callum face just. Does wonders. That is all. For real this time.
...
This? Is the best Christmas story. Evah.
...
The twenty-five million dollar question (which looks like this all written out for those of us who will never see that many zeros in all of our lives combined: $25,000,000) isn't where's Osama (except it is), it's why the hell does my head hurt so much so often? My uncle's partner, who's a doctor or at least plays one very convincingly on TV, had me write down when I get them, how they feel, and what's going on when I get them.
It could be stress and not eating breakfast that made me not care about that final I had at 8 AM on West Bank today. Because, I had one, and I really didn't care about anything else. And my hands kind of smell like they do when you have to handle bones when you're not entirely certain they're fake or not. I should get lunch and chug more pills. Was it Tylenol or Advil you can take a lot of? Oh, what does it matter my liver's probably beyond shot and I didn't even do anything fun getting it that way. I should really be studying for that Spanish final, but I can't make myself care when the left side of my brain decided that it would be a tasty snack (and not in the good way. See above.) But, I don't know, maybe a different doctor would be a good thing. Jones Soda sure would, though.
Did I just say "sure would?" What the hell, am I Little Ronnie Howard from the Andy Griffin(sp?) Show all of a sudden?
Mom bet me a fiver that I didn't fail my Anthro final, because I did have a mini-freak out moment after it there. I don't care anymore though, because I am done, doneski and donezo with half of my science cred. And if I fail out of Spanish, whatever, I'll take Polish or Russian like I wanted to in the first place. Why did I care what my parents wanted me to take, anyways? It's college for fuck's sake and I'm paying for most of it.
Fucking dammit. My head hurts. Maybe I'll take a walk.
But hey, you know what? After my Spanish final I'm going to go home, sleep with my dog, and then I'll find the bus route to the nearest comic shop and blow half the enormous paycheck I'm getting Wednesday there.
...
I'm watch Tyra Banks' talk show. She may be a whole lot self-absorbed but she gives out the good stuff for her Christmas gifting show. I'd go to LA for the $400 earrings to sell and keep the money. I would enjoy $400.
...
Oh, man, this mood theme has done wonders for me. Picking out a Callum face just. Does wonders. That is all. For real this time.