So Heather got shitfaced and I'm still pleasantly buzzin' from the tequila (and no, there isn't a 'Q' in Cuervo), vodka, mudslides and other various bitch drinks. I said that I'd update this thing with some of the shit I think of whilst inebriated. Metaphors are my friends. This all makes sense to me now. But I'm sure tomorrow I'll look back on
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Ok fine.
I was trashed ^^
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For future reference, and this goes for everyone: Calling me after ten is seriously not a good idea. Especially when I have to wake up at 4am to get ready for work. I fucking hate it. (Both the late-night phone calls and the getting up early.)
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