Monday, January 6th, 2003 | 22:15
Oh shit! I'm so not conscious.

My mom gave me a bottle of champagne for my birthday. Though, "I'm not drunk enough that I don't recognize funny from drunk funny," I've still got rules to follow. Mmmm, rules.
Fucking Polkaroo!
But seriously, for a second. I am asking you, my readers and friends, what I should do with my life. What would I be good at, honestly? I'm open to any suggestions, as long as they're not "astronaut" or "dinosaur".
If you take the H off the end of "eighth" and move it to the beginning, it forms the word "height".
In the eighth grade, I took a trip to Mt. Tremblant with a friend. We stayed the Friday and Saturday nights, I think. I met a girl on vacation from England named Samantha Pritchard. I couldn't remember her last name yesterday and it really bothered me. It came to me while I was getting on the westbound Queensway at twenty after four this afternoon.

Oh yeah, I'm drunk. I forgot to mention that I made out with Samantha.

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