not only does smoke get into your eyes, but metaphorical birds manage to get shit into your hair
Just for the length, this blog entry's title reminds me of a FOB song, or maybe a Panic! one.
Let's just say it's been one of those weekends where you feel like getting drunk is the only realistic and lovely option, and staying alive has been an burden rather than a gift. This weekend has repercussions not only on itself but for the rest of my year.
I used to think I hate Mondays but now I've decided that everyday is just pfffpbt. Okay. Maybe not everyday, but everyday that manages to be a fuck-up sort of day.
Let's just say it's been one of those weekends where you feel like getting drunk is the only realistic and lovely option, and staying alive has been an burden rather than a gift. This weekend has repercussions not only on itself but for the rest of my year.
I used to think I hate Mondays but now I've decided that everyday is just pfffpbt. Okay. Maybe not everyday, but everyday that manages to be a fuck-up sort of day.