(no subject)
everytime i come home, i expect some sort of celebration for me and there never is one. instead i just awkwardly run into people at the mall and talk to them about some bullshit. and the mall in gastonia depresses the hell out of me. and i feel like i am going to die everytime i am in it.
BUT i like going home because i have all sorts of zany shit in my house. especially my room. my bedroom is an aladdin's cave of treasure and good shit. today i was looking through my closet and realized that i have like 7 vintage evening gowns that i have never worn. i want to start wearing the green one because it makes me look like the tooth fairy. me and jamie should open up a vintage store.
gd, my feet smell bad. i think i have been unfairly blaming my room stink on patrick when it is most likely me.
my mom likes country music alot.