Sometimes, my mom likes to call me. A particular memorable phonecall started like this: Michael, I'm writing my will and I need to know what you want in my room. I've already decided which paintings you get, but do you like any furniture? You can have whatever, but if I die, I'll need you to come home from Vancouver and take care of your brothers
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All other animals rot in hell. Sorry, wildlife. I'm not that sorry.
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Remember our vodka-juice + plastic malt glasses? Loved it.
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My manager called me today and told me to work the next two Monday nights. I'm about to talk to her about giving me more hours, so I cannot say, "Omg srsly, I have plans already." I cannot make it to the movie on Monday. Sorry. But, but we should see each other while I still cannot buy alcohol. After that, as you know, I will be blind.
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I feel no need to justify why.
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this summer let's date.
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p.s. I have no hair.
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p.s. I saw the picture of you and L. on the internet back in grade nine or ten I'm guessing? We need to talk.
email me your phone number and a good time to call. I have a calling card for all my interprovincial dealings.
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Kai is a keeper, isn't he?
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