i went to new york this weekend, cause well, cake drummer invited me. so after enduring the bus ride from hell (one man started smoking while we were stuck for 2 hours in traffic in the bronx) i arrived at the midtown W, where by some strange stroke of luck, he had gotten the top flor split level suite. tres dope. so we made cute, ate japanese, and
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I am in constant awe of how awesome you are. I am way behind you in the game that is "the dating of minor celebraties who are almost 30 years older then me". However, I must insist that I kill this man in a pulp fiction manner (chainsaw, samuri sword), steal you, and then marry you in Las Vegas at gun point. This may be messy, and we'll most likely have to leave the country and live in Brazil for the rest of our days amongst urban decay and poisonus tree frogs, but in the end I have to say things will work in our favor.
Of course, if this all seems too much for you, I can settle for just hanging out with you. I guess.
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none of us can comprehend why your life is so much way fucking cooler than ours.
and if they arnt saying it - theyre thinking it
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