(Untitled)

Mar 31, 2005 08:05


Hello all...i havn't updated anything interesting lately! and i'm not going to do that today! muwahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

BECKY and BUNNY you both need to post the pics from sat night and bunny get the photos that the film place stoll!

anyway..i miss emily :( em i will send you a gift form sat but probably not till the hols...meaning i need to get ur ( Read more... )

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meestar_pickals March 31 2005, 00:20:46 UTC
“Rad-fucking-core.”

“I hate that word. Because, it’s all like, not a word. It’s more of a . . . non-word.”

“I’m making you dumb. Stop breathing my air, it must have like a corrosive effect on the vocabulary or something . . .”

“Aha. Yeah. That makes no sense but I don’t care, so. Moving right along.”

“Right. Um. Does that mean I have to get up?”

“No. It means you have to stay exactly the way you are now - slumped against a battered couch with your greasy head in my lap as you change the television channels at a really annoying speed.”

“It’s not that annoying.”

“Matt, I’m trying not to look at the screen because I’m afraid the rapidly-changing images might give me a seizure.”

“I’d catch you if you fell.”

“If I fell, I’d fall forward, trapping your face between my chest and my crotch. You’d probably suffocate.”

“I can so think of worse places to die.”

“Like where?”

“Oh, don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“The whole ‘I don’t think I’m pretty and sexy and blessed with a hot body that I never use so now I need you to reassure me of those facts’ thing. You do it all the time.”

“I so don’t.”

“You so do. But, whatever. You’re all insecure and shit, so I’ll just play along till you get up and I can have the whole couch to myself. Jeremiah, I would totally love to die with my head trapped in your lap.”

“You keep it up, boy, and I can arrange that.”

“Oh, what, you’ll strangle me or something?”

“Maybe. I’m a loose cannon.”

“Pfft.”

“What what? Did you just ‘pfft’ my last statement? Oh, it’s on, bitch. Bring it!”

“Shut up, Jere. You’re the most mellow person like . . . ever. It’s like you’re always on cough syrup or something.”

“Huh. Cough syrup.”

“You know the one where you drink it and it says on the back of the bottle not to operate heavy machinery?”

“ . . .”

“You’re pretty when you’re secretly thinking about how much of a dumbass I am.”

“I don’t secretly think that. I believe I’ve made my feelings about you being a dumbass clear to the whole world.”

“You heart me like whoa. And if I were writing that sentence down, ‘like’ would be spelled with a ‘y’.”

“Wow. You even think in NetSpeak. That’s so cool. Your mind is like one of those mini-computers from Japan that you clip to your belt.”

“ . . . stop being cerebral. I just want to sleep - “

”While nuzzling my stomach. Like a big fucking hornball of a cat.”

“I just want to sleep. And watch the TV.”

“You aren’t even looking at the TV. You’re staring at my belt buckle. My belt buckle does not come with cable.”

“That’s cause it’s cheap. And I’m listening to the TV. Like . . .with my ears. I can hear, you know.”

“Great. That’s so great. So, you’re just tone deaf, not deaf-deaf.”

“You were going to ask me something . . . then you got all huffy . . . now I’m confused and kind of sad.”

“Oh. Right. I was going to ask you something. Sorry, I forgot what it was.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re just pissed cause I made fun of you and you didn’t have a fancy retort. Ask me whatever it was before I bite you.”

“You won’t bite me, you pu- OW! FUCKER! THAT’S MY FLESH YOU’RE TEARING AT!”

“It’s a lovers bite.”

“On my stomach? Dude, I bet it’s like . . . right on the happy trail. How the fuck is that going to look to people?”

“What people were you planning on displaying your fucking happy trail to? Jere, I know you love your Speedos, and your low-riding jeans, and your hip-huggers, but maybe it’s time to move on. Don’t make me drag your ass on one of those talk shows where they make the sluts wear sweater vests and loafers.”

“I’m not a slut. Know who’s a slut? You’re a slut.”

“If I’m a slut, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you on a fucking Friday night, I’d be out turning tricks!”

“That’s not what sluts do, that’s what hookers do. God. Get your sexual deviants right. There’s sluts, there’s hookers, there’s whores, which is actually a kind of hooker . . . um . . . there are pimps, there are ho-bags, there are cum-sluts . . . again, that’s like . . . a sub-class of sluts . . . “

”Fuck. Shut up.”

“Bite me.”

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