It's like I'm running in place. Or up hill. Or, through quicksand.

We should go somewhere. For a vacation. Before I go into summer classes. Let's go away!

I want this baby out. I want this baby out now.

If the AC isn't fixed soon, I'm going to start stripping. It is way too fucking hot.

Best. Weekend. Ever. Upgrade!

Taking a survey:

If Diesel, for those of you who are patrons there, were to change in some way, shape, or form - are there any particular ideas you have ( Read more... )

Okay. Okay.

I promised I wouldn't yell. I did. And I'm going to keep that promise -- for the most part, anyway. But I do have to say that this is fucked up.

... I'll just leave it there, because if I keep going, I will yell.

So.

Why, why, why are my parents in Los Angeles?

I blame my brother. I blame him. I blame him hardcore.

Shit.