Jun 12, 2006 00:25
Stoughton Theater can suck both my right, and my left nut.
I'm sick of being treated like I can't take care of myself. Stoughton Theater reminded me of that tonight.
I'll either be writing them a letter, or decorating their property with outside food and drinks.
John Pesta had liver failure. He's better. I was fucking scared.
I'm sitting on the floor of my apartment. I miss my mom. I like the apartment. I love my roomates.
bdmbarrett12: grilled cheese
awzie 3: wait guy
bdmbarrett12: u didnt have to wait for sex so i shouldnt have to wait for food bitch
awzie 3: you are a mother fucker.
I'm working overtime. I'm fucking tired.
I know there are bigger things going on then what I'm complaining about. Most of what I'm complaining about, anyway.
Katie, I'm sorry I haven't called you or made any effort to talk to you. I don't want to bother you or anything. I promise that I think about your mom everyday. I've had a lot of people I love in the hospital lately. I never pray, but I'm praying for your mom. Stay strong.
I wouldn't mind winning one of the many tickets that Kim and I have attempted to scratch. A grand or two would be put to good use in my pocket. Or in my rent box.
Goodnight, Moon.