AG: I don't see how we're supposed to 8e 8ecoming friends if you recoil from my olive 8ranch like I'm twitching a mummified 8ovine phallus in your direction.
CG: BECOMING FRIENDS, WHAT THE FUCK.
CG: WE WILL NEVER BE FRIENDS, MORON.
AG: Not even h8 friends?
CG: NO. MORE LIKE TWITCHY EYED PROJECTILE VOMITING IN UTTER DISGUST FRIENDS, WHILE I PERFORATE MY BONE BULGE WITH A CULLING FORK.
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Oh hai...I'm tipsy
Posted 11-07-2009 at 11:46 PM by scrab queen
"That's no way to start a conversation!" - Trent, as soon as he walked through the door.
Yes, peoples, I finally had more than just a shot glass. Yay me. Also, it's like being high, except with the loss of coordination. I'm a bit more eloquent, but my grammar went down the drain. I sound like a slow person who's trying to sound smart. Like Engrish, except worse. I can't help but have the feeling that I should be speaking in a heavy russian accent. Don't worry. It was with my Mom. I managed to maintain my dignity. She was the one who fell out the car, got mildly injured, and then puked. I'm just the one who was voicing my already dirty thoughts and contemplating the meaning of life. With incredibly fucked up logic. My only regret: I should have been watching Kill Bill, instead of Pineapple Express. I'm going to sleep now. |
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Recent Blog Entries by scrab queen
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