(no subject)
Do you ever have one of those feelings? Like, you know that you should shut up, but you can't just stop talking because your mouth won't let you? I don't know why. I feel funny.
. .
I think I'm drunk.
I swear, I didn't have much. Not much more than one. Or maybe two...? I lost count really easy. I haven't felt like this, maybe, uh, ever. I dunno. Kinda funny. Heh. Ahah.
I keep falling down, and that makes it even more funny. I can't keep my feet straight. They keep tripping over each other!
Aha. Heh. *Snickersnort*
Know what? I love you guys. This is a great place. It's so neat not to have to worry about talking to one guy one day and finding him with a sword through his chest the next. Because then they smell. And don't talk anymore.
The only really bad thing about being Futch is the shortness. I keep getting neck pains, and it's really annoying. I'm probably not going to look up anymore, because it's really, really, really annoying. Did I mention really? 'Cause it is.
If you could bottle his libido and sell it, I bet you'd make millions. You could probably fund a war, or something. 'Cause I tell you what, I've never noticed that there are so many good looking people around here. Mostly because, you know, I probably would have dated their parents before they were born and still been too old. God. All of you damn kids are just too young. And short. Tall now.
So, uh, c-could anyone help me back to my room or something? 'cause otherwise I'll end up in someone else's room or in a snowbank, and then I'll get frostbite.
. . .
Know what sounds like fun? Naked snow angels. How do I get these pants off.? Tee hee, I'm in Futch's pants. *Snicker*
. .
I think I'm drunk.
I swear, I didn't have much. Not much more than one. Or maybe two...? I lost count really easy. I haven't felt like this, maybe, uh, ever. I dunno. Kinda funny. Heh. Ahah.
I keep falling down, and that makes it even more funny. I can't keep my feet straight. They keep tripping over each other!
Aha. Heh. *Snickersnort*
Know what? I love you guys. This is a great place. It's so neat not to have to worry about talking to one guy one day and finding him with a sword through his chest the next. Because then they smell. And don't talk anymore.
The only really bad thing about being Futch is the shortness. I keep getting neck pains, and it's really annoying. I'm probably not going to look up anymore, because it's really, really, really annoying. Did I mention really? 'Cause it is.
If you could bottle his libido and sell it, I bet you'd make millions. You could probably fund a war, or something. 'Cause I tell you what, I've never noticed that there are so many good looking people around here. Mostly because, you know, I probably would have dated their parents before they were born and still been too old. God. All of you damn kids are just too young. And short. Tall now.
So, uh, c-could anyone help me back to my room or something? 'cause otherwise I'll end up in someone else's room or in a snowbank, and then I'll get frostbite.
. . .
Know what sounds like fun? Naked snow angels. How do I get these pants off.? Tee hee, I'm in Futch's pants. *Snicker*