February 2012
Our ‘frendship’ is a fucking joke because of you.
I can’t even sleep in my own house on a Sunday night.
I know right, what a shit housemate. Sleeping in my own bed at 4 am on a Monday.
Not that partying would wake me up before work, but a direct visit to wake me up to borrow my cigarettes.
I believe FUCK ALL Y’ALL is appropriate here.
It’s my birthday in two weeks y’all.
No idea what to do for it. My house is physical proof of an inanimate object being capable of sucking your will to live at the moment, so there goes my party idea.
What ta do?
Also everyone buy me whiskey, rollies, comics, Day of the Dead flags, a ticket to the south, lilac hair dye, my university fees, a pug, two pugs, perfume, whiskey, a...
Man, so many cutie patooties walking around Melbourne today in babe dresses and platforms.
I’m glad the 90s are back.
boy:
girl:
the boy and the girl do not have a conversation
love does not exist
you're going to die some day
I want to:
-Have sex to a good record.
-Cry.
-Take some valium.
-Eat a pizza.
-Swim under the sea.
In that order.
