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After getting very little sleep the night before, I conked out before eleven last night. I woke up, walked upstairs to my bed and remembered, "Oh shit, I've got that chemistry project due tomorrow. I'm too tired to do it now, so I'll wake up early and do it in the morning." I set my alarm for 6am and collapsed.
I lept across the bed to turn off the blaring radio and spent ten minutes confirming it was only Sunday and then another hour trying to get back to sleep.
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I like Molson Dry because they've got heavy bottles.
I've spent the last hour or so transfering and indexing my bookmarks. I'm the coolest guy on the block.
I was thinking/worrying this afternoon about whether or not she thinks I have bad breath. I came to the conclusion that I'm ecstatic that is my largest concern.
I am self-centered and narcissistic.
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Who new growing sugar crystals could be so dull?
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My mother has started being a whole lot nicer to me. I've responded by being a whole lot nicer to her. I think she might have recently remembered what she was like at my age. (cynical, over-analyzing drop-out x 2)
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While peeing, Joe found a dirty, smelly, broken bicycle and threw it in my car.
Later, we were driving north on King Edward when two guys in a Ford Enormous started to pull out from a traffic light that I KNOW you can't turn right at when red. I nearly put the horn through the wheel and stayed on it until I passed them, at which point I got in front and slowed to about thirty. They pulled up beside me and pleasantly and politely asked, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!?".
"NO RIGHT TURN ON A RED, ASSHOLE" I shouted. I gave them the finger and we left them to eat our minivan dust (that is, if there was any dust. It was raining.)
I am tha police.
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Better idea: How about you tell me what I'm going to do next.
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tusk
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