Oh goldfish, they say, your conviction that February is the worst of all months is totally psychosomatic. And worst of all, I start to believe them. And everytime I think to myself, hey! This isn't bad at all! In fact, things seem pretty damn peachy! February
fucks me in the ass.
My laptop is connected to my ipod, I'm listening to some Cocteau Twins,...
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is there an evening next week that works? or maybe next weekend?