smoked nineteen joints;
A plain brown box accompanied with a black felt box.
Yeah, that time of year again. I swear, it's not funny when I find women lingerie in my filing cabinets or lube stuffed into the cup I hold my pens in. Valentine's Day should be more properly labeled as "Miserable Day for Singles Day" or "Pull a Prank on a Fellow Lovesick Co-worker Day". Either way, it ain't all that pretty.
But I think I got a good night planned here, even if it's a bit abrupt. Guess planning ahead does have some of it's perks.
I sent a dozen roses to my mom earlier in the week, hopefully it arrived on time and she doesn't have someone that has already gotten her something already. Thinking about what kind of love life she leads is something that's worse than hangovers, but I can't forget about the woman who raised me.
Seriously, though. Lube?
Someone's losing their touch.