whiskey and a soft bosom would make my life easier.

yesterday, i stumbled upon a hoodied, chuck taylored boy, cigarette dangling from his mouth, and black frame glasses perched upon his nose so that his book "fight club" might be read with clear and corrected vision.

Little Wings.

pbs tonight, anyone? frontline is cool. sometimes.

All the experts say you ought to start them young
That way they'll naturally love the taste of corporate cum

i just remembered that i like pedro the lion. and i don't care who knows.

the possibility of getting slapped in the face by a gate makes me pukeoush. the shoe room in stock smells like leather. innertube around the nose ( a technical term). haggar smelled like sloppy joes. i miss sharing a bed. sometimes. miniskirts are gay. my mind is growing oh so weary of dwelling on the past. hot buttered rum making is ( Read more... )

hinged. for life.

allll aloooone in the costume shop with a mouth full of pins and a stomach empty of anything even vaguely nourishing.

wow. i sing super bad. terribly bad not black bad.

do they do?

0 <--- hey taylor, see THAT? that's my hole. and now i puncha you in the fizace.

back in dallASS, texASS. (pronunciation credited to Mr. A.H. Ancona)

fresh and clean clean--a direct result of my last shower in the cozy warehouse bathroom equipped with that squishy floor spot right in front of the shower. i've resigned myself to the fate of perpetual poofy hair and have embraced the idea of being eternally equipped with some sort of beast atop my head.

oh, right. school.