Back to My Front
Wow, it’s been a time. I’m glad journals aren’t children, because otherwise I’d be taking government parenting classes and this journal would have been placed among some foster writer that provides it with milk and diapers. Fortunately, one of my few master talents is making excuses, so I shall present a cascade of evidence as to
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Comments 34
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But it won't ever be a problem for me. I look like Ross Perot when I wear a hat. My ears aren't that large, apparently, until you take away all of my hair.
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Welcome back to cyberspace, and congrats on the new pad! Now to explain the drool. In the land from which I hail, Californian's are akin to mythological beings. Pretty, eloquen, well spoken and well read Californians, working amidst other pretty Californians are beyond the general California mythos, and require drool.
Incidently, in the land from which I hail, drool is life-threatening. So I am now counting my blessins for the fact that I no longer hail from that land. As chances are, you would have been responsible for my untimely demise, due to drooling.
Artem (the Siberian)
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I'm tempted to see you with your nice run out, only because I can't believe it's possible. The thought that it is probably as potent as your usual niceness makes me think twice though.
Did you ever find a shirt? I didn't see you the other night. You might not go to UCLA anymore, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't visit a outrageous amount of times.
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As for the shirt, I just caved and bought a stupid shirt. It was inexpensive enough.
But let's talk -- I feel like I spend hours of my day walking back and forth in Westwood, it's really not any extra effort to come to the dorms and visit you. AND you have to come see my apartment sometime, as well!
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The walking dead can't get you if you keep your feet under the covers.
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BTW I love this new name.
And I do, I cocoon myself in my blankets. It's the only way I can sleep I think, unless it's 180 billion degrees out like it was this summer. My feet are the safest part of me!
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