Tuesday, December 07, 2004
A million things plus one.
There's a million things to post tonight. I'm a bit drunk so I might only get through a few of them. There also might be spelling mistakes. Ordinarily I spell check such things, but tonight reality rules.
First thing: figure skating on a date is the most wonderful thing ever. Okay, so if this is a secret, I'm sorry, but I'm really really really happy right now, and person who this is about you know who you are. Although, maybe you don't read this. Well, then still, very happy.
Okay, second thing... when did fifteen year old girls at McDonalds start talking openly about blow jobs? Does this not seem strange to anyone else? I mean, I was a cool kid at 15 (lie) but I was *not* giving nor recieving blow jobs. Maybe I was just hanging around the wrong girls. Still, I point to this and say "See how our society unravels at the seams. See how far we have fallen."
Third thing: still a little bit happy about thing one. Chriss, you are very hot-cute. Not baby-cute, don't worry.
Fourth thing: didn't really have a thing. I'm still in a writing mood, though. From now on, I'm abandoning the whole numeric order...
I've booked a DJ for the birthday party. It's costing an arm and a leg, but it'll be fucking worth it. This year I am having a party like no other. Goddamn if I don't have the best damned birthday of the year...
Not much else is really new--got surprise drunk with the roomies. Ended up smashing some (read three cases worth) beer bottles against the wall of the building next to us.
There's no feeling of freedom like that a second after the bottle leaves your hand. For a few moments you watch it soar, tumbling end-over-end and you understand life in it's entirety. And then it smashes against the wall.
well, maybe it's only after it smashes that you understand the beauty of its arc. Maybe that's my point.
I don't know what love is anymore, but I think that's why I'm about ready for it.
I have mroe to post, but I'm not so drunk that I don't recognize this post has no structure. I won't force you to decipher my thoughts--I have a hard enough time myself.
This post is dedicated to Willard. You were a drunk, but a lovable one. I wish you all the best in the afterlife of stuffed hippos. I may charge a dollar to beat your corpse with a bat. We'll see what happens.
-Trevor
P.S. Charissa? Did I spell that right? Either way, I think you are wonderful. That's all.
-Trevor
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First thing: figure skating on a date is the most wonderful thing ever. Okay, so if this is a secret, I'm sorry, but I'm really really really happy right now, and person who this is about you know who you are. Although, maybe you don't read this. Well, then still, very happy.
Okay, second thing... when did fifteen year old girls at McDonalds start talking openly about blow jobs? Does this not seem strange to anyone else? I mean, I was a cool kid at 15 (lie) but I was *not* giving nor recieving blow jobs. Maybe I was just hanging around the wrong girls. Still, I point to this and say "See how our society unravels at the seams. See how far we have fallen."
Third thing: still a little bit happy about thing one. Chriss, you are very hot-cute. Not baby-cute, don't worry.
Fourth thing: didn't really have a thing. I'm still in a writing mood, though. From now on, I'm abandoning the whole numeric order...
I've booked a DJ for the birthday party. It's costing an arm and a leg, but it'll be fucking worth it. This year I am having a party like no other. Goddamn if I don't have the best damned birthday of the year...
Not much else is really new--got surprise drunk with the roomies. Ended up smashing some (read three cases worth) beer bottles against the wall of the building next to us.
There's no feeling of freedom like that a second after the bottle leaves your hand. For a few moments you watch it soar, tumbling end-over-end and you understand life in it's entirety. And then it smashes against the wall.
well, maybe it's only after it smashes that you understand the beauty of its arc. Maybe that's my point.
I don't know what love is anymore, but I think that's why I'm about ready for it.
I have mroe to post, but I'm not so drunk that I don't recognize this post has no structure. I won't force you to decipher my thoughts--I have a hard enough time myself.
This post is dedicated to Willard. You were a drunk, but a lovable one. I wish you all the best in the afterlife of stuffed hippos. I may charge a dollar to beat your corpse with a bat. We'll see what happens.
-Trevor
P.S. Charissa? Did I spell that right? Either way, I think you are wonderful. That's all.
-Trevor
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