yeah!
Okay. So I'm in the computer lab trying to work on my beloved short story for my beloved fiction writing class and getting nowhere fast. It's about this chick in midtown who's really into beastiality and is dog-sitting Boswell, a lovely golden retriever. His owners are the Langstons. They are in Africa. Something's going to happen, not sure what yet. Someone's going to die, not sure who yet. I do know that the bitch really likes potato soup and she works at House of Mews and Paulette's (in that order). I hope it turns out okay. If anyone wants to read it at some point after it's done, e-mail my ass and I'll hook you up.
Other than that, I had a pretty knarly bike wreck last Thursday. My dumb ass was riding through Southern parking lot at uni, not paying ANY kind of attention. I was listening to some early REM, looking the other way; I hit a curb, flew over my handlebars and smashed my face into the concrete. Luckily I didn't break my jaw or anything, I just REALLY fucked up my teeth. So now, while I don't look inbred (thank Buddha), my top four front teeth are FAKE. I wish they were gold but, alas, I'm caucasian so that would be silly.
Come to think of it, gold grills are pretty silly anyway.
As are girls, but that's neither here nor there. Goddamn fucking emotions. Mariah Carey, who I've been namedropping a lot lately, had it right in her aptly titled song "Emotions." Yeahhhh.
Oh, and for all of us online-community lovers: facebook is the shit. Enough said.
Peace bitches.
Other than that, I had a pretty knarly bike wreck last Thursday. My dumb ass was riding through Southern parking lot at uni, not paying ANY kind of attention. I was listening to some early REM, looking the other way; I hit a curb, flew over my handlebars and smashed my face into the concrete. Luckily I didn't break my jaw or anything, I just REALLY fucked up my teeth. So now, while I don't look inbred (thank Buddha), my top four front teeth are FAKE. I wish they were gold but, alas, I'm caucasian so that would be silly.
Come to think of it, gold grills are pretty silly anyway.
As are girls, but that's neither here nor there. Goddamn fucking emotions. Mariah Carey, who I've been namedropping a lot lately, had it right in her aptly titled song "Emotions." Yeahhhh.
Oh, and for all of us online-community lovers: facebook is the shit. Enough said.
Peace bitches.