in kalamazoo. what kind of a name is that?

mmmmmmmmm....we say we're going to move here.

we're looking for a place with a big porch.

and neighbors that smoke weed.

but for now we're just wondering what we'll drink tonight.

oh yeah. you're stupid and confusing. and confused. but im not so HA.

HE: you gotta boyfriend?
ME: uh...sort of kind of not really.
HE: you still fucking?
ME:.......uhm....
HE: well here is my number. mines bigger than his.

last night after finding out her drug dealer died (crushed to death in a car, drunk driving probably) we drank fourties of colt 45 and smoked black and milds. "cheers" we said "to black people" we played our music loudly and danced and danced and danced ridiculously. just me and her. after we finished the alcohol we decided to go outside. we walked ( Read more... )

so all i know how to do is be sad and heartbroken anymore.

i guess im not in the mood to drink after all. daffa pats my head. the cigarette smoke follows you wherever you go. when i get home i want to draw pictures. pictures of us. but i'll probably be too tired. i have to work at nine A.M. i like wearing your jeans. and your shoes. but i hate it when we fight. and i hate it when you dont kiss me goodbye. ( Read more... )

the whiskey just arrived and there's a lot more than we need. which is alright.

i miss my darling.

these kids are having a food fight.

we are visiting chicago soon

there's not much more going on.

whiskey from tea cups ( Read more... )

im just a baby.

i can handle it.

but right now i just want to dance.

things have been really shitty.

but whateva. i guess.

oh yeah..i have my consultation for my tattoo next sunday at three.

what are you wearing?

and last night i posed in front of the mirror for like an hour. i've discovered that my new jacket looks SUPER hot without a shirt under it. but it's a little too risque for me, im not sure if i could pull it off. maybe if i were french. oh well.

oh god spaghetti sounds fan-fucking-tastic right now.