happy new year muthafuckas. what i was expecting to be a quiet night with myself and some movies turned into a shitshow with my room mate and our neighbour. This didn't really seem like a big blow out kind of new year, so i was planning on laying low. i should have known better. i won't get into the details (mostly because i can't remember them) but it did end with a good, soul-cleansing freak out, complete with crying and various confessions of love.
drugs and alcohol really are fun. anytime.
i was just browsing through some blogs and came across one containing horrible "teenage death poetry." and by "horrible" i mean "utterly fantastic" (within the limited context of the genre, of course.) unfortunately, this stuff appears to be written by an adult male who is very, very bitter about an ex-girlfriend.
i detect absolutely no trace of irony on this site, so when i quote "The year I got raped in a photo booth" from a nugget called "2004" i actually feel bad about finding this so terribly funny. does this make me an asshole? probably. my apologies to the author for my lack of empathy and overabundance of cynicism.
i'm not house sitting anymore. the dog shat on the carpet twice near the end of my stay. i think she wanted me to leave just as much as i wanted to go. it really wasn't all that awful (except for the poo)but i'm a creature of habit, and i think i perform better as a human being in my own environment.
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