No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality
Well, is it still me that makes you sweat?
Am I who you think about in bed?
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
Well, then think of what you did
And how I hope to God he was worth it
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin
I've got more wit
A better kiss
A hotter touch
A better fuck
Than any boy you'll ever meet
Sweetie you had me
Girl, I was it, look past the sweat
A better love deserving of
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?
No no no, you know it will always just be me -
Panic! at the disco has been playing in my head and all over the PDA. God Damnit.
I've been in one of those odd moods lately. It's like the whole world is laughing at me because I'm getting played and no one wants to tell me the name of the game.
I stayed down in EP last night to try and drink it off, but it didn't really work. Crowe called me up because a little bird told him I was in Best Buy. So Chris and I had a couple of tall ones with him and watched some scrubs. Mike left so me and chris went back to his house and had a few more drinks then decided to call it a night.
It just didn't work. I really just need to get shit housed and forget about all the little shit bothering me and dragging me down.
Of course it looks like I probably won't have Date on New Years eve so I'll probably take advantage of all the free booze floating around then. Or if nothing else I caould always grab a case of beer, go to the store then get drunk and rework the entire PA section after the Cingular displays get put up.
It's sad when you wake up and all you want to do is go to work and crash. I thought I was going to sleep in late today but instead woke up showered said bye to chris's mom and headed straight back to Brighton, ignoring the lies in the corner of my eyes on the way back. Of course I drove way too fast and got back here with two and a half hours before I can go to work. Fucking great. Rather than do something productive all I can do right now is sit here and drown in gloom. I should go finish registering for college and take like 18 credits.
I figure if I'm too busy to worry about having fun I can drive myself completely insane and end up a suicidal alcoholic by mid-spring. It'll be fun. I can come home after a late day at the office with my tie and collar all fucked up and a bottle of scotch held loosely in my hand. I'll crash down on the recliner and fumble with my shoes and curse the dead end job I've gotten stuck in. Then I'll notice that my bottle is empty and forget that I drank it all and go get a new one from my closet of booze. I'll passout at the kitchen table and mutter the name Claire over and over in my sleep. Then my alarm clock will sound and I'll realize that if I don't hurry I'll be late for my big meeting and after I shower I'll run out the front door only to slip on one of my own bottles and tumble down the stairs . then I'll go to work be miserable and go home and drink more. Eventually I'll find jesus but it will be because I got drunk and walked into a moving train. Our lord and myself will have a good laugh at the funny situation because I always wanted to be an engineer on a big bullet train when I was a kid and then he'll inform me that he has to jet because I'm about to fall straight into hell where the devil intends to have me spend all of enternity filing reports and drinking really bad tequilla.
I think that would be an appropriate way to go. Dave could write a movie about the whole thing. He could call it "the death of a fucktard"
Whatever, I think I'll just go for a drive.
Am I who you think about in bed?
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
Well, then think of what you did
And how I hope to God he was worth it
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin
I've got more wit
A better kiss
A hotter touch
A better fuck
Than any boy you'll ever meet
Sweetie you had me
Girl, I was it, look past the sweat
A better love deserving of
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?
No no no, you know it will always just be me -
Panic! at the disco has been playing in my head and all over the PDA. God Damnit.
I've been in one of those odd moods lately. It's like the whole world is laughing at me because I'm getting played and no one wants to tell me the name of the game.
I stayed down in EP last night to try and drink it off, but it didn't really work. Crowe called me up because a little bird told him I was in Best Buy. So Chris and I had a couple of tall ones with him and watched some scrubs. Mike left so me and chris went back to his house and had a few more drinks then decided to call it a night.
It just didn't work. I really just need to get shit housed and forget about all the little shit bothering me and dragging me down.
Of course it looks like I probably won't have Date on New Years eve so I'll probably take advantage of all the free booze floating around then. Or if nothing else I caould always grab a case of beer, go to the store then get drunk and rework the entire PA section after the Cingular displays get put up.
It's sad when you wake up and all you want to do is go to work and crash. I thought I was going to sleep in late today but instead woke up showered said bye to chris's mom and headed straight back to Brighton, ignoring the lies in the corner of my eyes on the way back. Of course I drove way too fast and got back here with two and a half hours before I can go to work. Fucking great. Rather than do something productive all I can do right now is sit here and drown in gloom. I should go finish registering for college and take like 18 credits.
I figure if I'm too busy to worry about having fun I can drive myself completely insane and end up a suicidal alcoholic by mid-spring. It'll be fun. I can come home after a late day at the office with my tie and collar all fucked up and a bottle of scotch held loosely in my hand. I'll crash down on the recliner and fumble with my shoes and curse the dead end job I've gotten stuck in. Then I'll notice that my bottle is empty and forget that I drank it all and go get a new one from my closet of booze. I'll passout at the kitchen table and mutter the name Claire over and over in my sleep. Then my alarm clock will sound and I'll realize that if I don't hurry I'll be late for my big meeting and after I shower I'll run out the front door only to slip on one of my own bottles and tumble down the stairs . then I'll go to work be miserable and go home and drink more. Eventually I'll find jesus but it will be because I got drunk and walked into a moving train. Our lord and myself will have a good laugh at the funny situation because I always wanted to be an engineer on a big bullet train when I was a kid and then he'll inform me that he has to jet because I'm about to fall straight into hell where the devil intends to have me spend all of enternity filing reports and drinking really bad tequilla.
I think that would be an appropriate way to go. Dave could write a movie about the whole thing. He could call it "the death of a fucktard"
Whatever, I think I'll just go for a drive.