ghostsandvodka

one day, i'll be a statistic.

she said the choices were given, now you must live them, or just not live.

but do you want that?

















:yes:
(come drink with me)

but on the plus side, i'm absolutely covered in vasoline.

we sold shit at the flea market all day, and now i look like a silly lobster or something.

my face hurts.

:zoidberg:


also, to whom it may concern, (you know who you are)

i fucking hate you. you never should have turned me over.don't ever save my life again.

if there were bridges in a flat land like home, i'd jump, but only to get you out of my fucking head.

applied mathematics, lesson number one bitches.

twenty-four beers, divided by three people, equals one "i would kiss you right now".

one "i would kiss you right now" is, of course, the equivalent of one very decent friendship gone done the drain. because, as we all unfortunately know, one very drunk, very sloppy kiss equals bad, regrettable sex.

one life near the end is equal to...
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since when did we start calling eight people, twenty-four beers, and three joints a party? did i miss that memo?

fucking boring, thats what it is.

there was a suicidal bunny on the way home, and i felt for it. he barely made it.

the bunny was more exciting.

we all passed the hat around. this is my body, this is the blood i found.

er...its 12:38 a.m.

oh god. i just had one of those intensely depressing moments where i finally convinced myself that not only am i inferior to everyone, but it's so glaringly obvious that i will forever be doomed to a life of complete and utter despair. alone forever. a friendless, jobless, pathetic waste of oxygen that would better serve mankind as fertilizer.

it was awful.

then my kitten...
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my cousin and i kidnapped captain morgan last night.

and then i drank half of him, cause it was one of those moods.

now i feel like shit.

also, he has a crush on rosie, which really doesn't surprise me in the least.



ill.