wolfgarden

I am not in love with him. Just addicted to his company. And I think he's becoming addicted to mine, which is nice. We sang "Bring Me To Life" together last night, which I've been trying to hint at doing for a long time, but he was all "I don't want to hear Evanescence." Fuck that shit, I love Evanescence. They be mah favorite band, yo.

And now I have a Coheed craving. Gods damn Last.fm for taking away my free plays of Ten Speed. Stupid bastards.

Ack, I haven't done ANYTHING with my photography portfolio, and it's due Tuesday at 8:30 in the morning. FUCK. I guess I have a couple mount-ready prints, though. UGH. And I need to study French like a motherfucker. Srsly.

I got my duet. Whoo!

Slurpees at 1 in the morning: always a good idea. I recommend it. Especially if your local Seven Eleven has Mutant Berry. Not only do you get an early-morning Slurpee, but you get to drink something that came out of Hugh Jackman's torso. YES. Even if it's not directly from him, it's still tainted with his sexy.

I fucking love blogging, even if not every post I make is philosophical.

I get to find out if my dad officially has no job today. Hopefully, he will still have one and I can stop stressing about having no life this summer. But, if not, I. Am. FUCKED. We're all fucked. The whole damn family is fucked.