So there you are, standing with your toes hanging over the edge of the deepest, darkest chasm of soul wrenching misery you expect ever to encounter, listening to the Smiths. You slept only three hours last night, then emerged from your room to start consuming Guiness and cold medication with your housemates at ten in the morning (incidentally).
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good for you on the girl/sparta/shoelaces thing. perhaps it is time to add another toothbrush to the wall?
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p.s. nick st. john-i love you! have fun at sparta. woohoo, woohoo.
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