I've had a lot on my mind lately, most likely due to the fact that I've been entirely too anti-social the past few weeks. I think best when I can express myself through words... spoken usually, b/c sometimes I just have to talk through things for them to make sense to me. I like to write but it doesn't compare to a uber-sweet conversation with a
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You will enjoy the coming project.
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We have a couch.
Laura.
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I miss you like the deserts miss the rain...BUT...instead of crying a river and drowning myself right now out of the sheer sorrow I feel at the loss of your presence in Mt. Pleasant, I will thank you for a decent entry that I just read here at work. THANK YOU, SISTA.
I enjoy talking to you. So here are your options:
A) Fricken' get online once in a while, you hooker.
B) Call W7. Request to speak to "Em".
C) We can always get soup cans, string them together, and stretch them from Mt. P to Flushing. And talk into them REAL loud.
Love,
Emily Anne Hoste.
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I don't know. Stringing soup cans together? I just sat here and thought about it. That doesn't make any sense. You would just be talking into a can. The string doesn't allow sound to travel through it. BUT IT WORKS ON TV, DOESN'T IT?
Fricken I am an idiot.
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I read your journal entry.
I commented.
After I commented, I saw that Laura had just commented.
I am glad they pay Laura and I to comment on peoples livejournals and send each other pictures of Topher Grace all day. In glasses.
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he's a fine, fine boy.
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