Ohhhh Weekend.
I probably should have packed it in for the weekend when bright and early Friday morning I was an asshole and had my worst bicycle accident yet. Entirely my fault, entirely too hysterical. Rain, 20mph, trolley tracks, and attempting to assault motor vehicles do not mix well kiddies. Gold Stars.
Birthday boy Robert Gordon had a very nicely attended party. I did not, however, discover the meaning of life, as drunk and high as I was. I did discover that if I am ever assaulted by Moore girls insisting that I have alcohol poisioning again, I might have to start carrying a katana, or some throwing stars. I also discovered that when you scream at drunk-trevor, he screams back. And its a lot of screaming, but noooooo rationality. And Drunk-Trevor discovered that if you park your Honda in north philly, someone will take it for a joyride. Around the Block.
In other news, I hope things are okay in the burbs, i havent checked in, which is a pretty dick move on my part, but Im not really sure that it would serve any purpose than to extend the ugly arm of drama and gossip. So. I might stay out of it.
Saturday was stupid.
Sunday was nice. I opened my store with NOT CHRISTI! I actually had some decent coworkers for ONCE in my life! Annnnd then I had to clean up fecal matter. FECAL MATTER! Crusty, day-old, awful fecal matter. Had I eaten anything that morning I would have vomited everywhere. The day got tenfold better when Brian and I went out to breakfast after our mutual opening shifts ended. It was cute, he bought me breakfast. Then we wandered around c.city where we proceeded to be completely platonic. Dear God, Please send him a clue. A tremendously big clue, cause my clues arn't doing it. Idiot kid.
After that I stopped interacting with others until Midday monday when I was informed that I failed my French test. 59, you suckers, I rule. Who speaks french? Emilie Fucking Davis speaks French.
Birthday boy Robert Gordon had a very nicely attended party. I did not, however, discover the meaning of life, as drunk and high as I was. I did discover that if I am ever assaulted by Moore girls insisting that I have alcohol poisioning again, I might have to start carrying a katana, or some throwing stars. I also discovered that when you scream at drunk-trevor, he screams back. And its a lot of screaming, but noooooo rationality. And Drunk-Trevor discovered that if you park your Honda in north philly, someone will take it for a joyride. Around the Block.
In other news, I hope things are okay in the burbs, i havent checked in, which is a pretty dick move on my part, but Im not really sure that it would serve any purpose than to extend the ugly arm of drama and gossip. So. I might stay out of it.
Saturday was stupid.
Sunday was nice. I opened my store with NOT CHRISTI! I actually had some decent coworkers for ONCE in my life! Annnnd then I had to clean up fecal matter. FECAL MATTER! Crusty, day-old, awful fecal matter. Had I eaten anything that morning I would have vomited everywhere. The day got tenfold better when Brian and I went out to breakfast after our mutual opening shifts ended. It was cute, he bought me breakfast. Then we wandered around c.city where we proceeded to be completely platonic. Dear God, Please send him a clue. A tremendously big clue, cause my clues arn't doing it. Idiot kid.
After that I stopped interacting with others until Midday monday when I was informed that I failed my French test. 59, you suckers, I rule. Who speaks french? Emilie Fucking Davis speaks French.