came home from a dinner party tonight and my mom managed to take the extra effort to climb up the stairs to lay down on my bed while i'm writing only to pass out curled in a ball smelling heavily of gin & tonics muttering that they were too strong and that my hands smell like honey. i have to say that i smell like sake with every burp and i fall
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Next time I come down we'll find ourselves a nice drug dealer and buy a piece off him and shoot some yuppies.
Merry Christmas, Beata.
-a
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I don't believe I myself could ever own one, because that would cause problems.
I'd be like homer simpson.
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