I got my freakin' Franz Ferdinand tickets, and it makes me NICE. I walked into Graywhale, and the ferril blonde guy kind of smiled, and I sheepishly whispered that I wanted some tickets, and a guy with a fro got them for me, and I wasn't an idiot this time. AND I LOOK LIKE A DRUGGIE.
I can't help the red eye. Not even red eye, that's about your pupil, this is the white part, and I'm freaking out. Matt Nanes won't even look me in the face.
Anyway, Fridays are nice, because you have momentum, but you don't have to worry about homework for the nice, you can just make your bed and lay in it and think of all the ways you are such a funny person, and know that everyone should love you.

"I am finally seeing, why I was the one worth leaving."

I thought, somehow, that I would be rich after I got my money for those grueling summer hours, but that was before I signed a contract for a cellphone, and bought 4 college textbooks on credit. Now, I am starting to wonder if I will ever pay off my truck, and just get a nice $4 coffee like I did at the beginning of the summer, when I was naive, and went on extravagant shopping sprees. I am an iiiidddiiiooottt with a headache this afternoon.

times that I realize I am whitebre(a)d.

there was that one time Ian, Ben, and I were jumping into the river from the rope, and these Latinos were watching us from the bridge, laughing. waiting. they wanted to know if I'd jump off. And then there were druggies that missed "4:20", actually drinking liquor from brown paperbags(I thought that was a stereotypical joke). They got in their car, and I realized they were driving drunk, and I wanted them to not be alive. I was wondering, why are they alive and not the sort of people who don't drive drunk? But I think Jesus would have been nice to them.

I remember sitting in somebody's living room I didn't know. They were both deaf, and my friend was talking to them, and I wanted more than anything to be home, under my covers where I was safe from what I didn't want to realize, I just wanted it to stay in the magazines. That was the first time I realized I was whitebread.

It's too late, tonight. I just keep hearing Franz Ferdinand in my head. When I am mad, they are singing "I'm cheating on you...I'm cheating on you." But when I'm sad, they are too, and Paul is singing, "So come on home....come on home, but don't forget to leave." and I'm so tired of everything.

Parties are sort of nice. I like them sometimes.
Paul Porter is fuuunny.


Matt's Girlfriend = red
Philip = green
Paul = blue

Paul is sipping really hot coffee.

So, if you had the choice between soda and cafe..coffee I mean, which would you pick?
Vodka.
He has his eyes on the coffee.
That's not a choice! Come on. I mean, if you had to choose between coffee and coke, what would you pick?
Whiskey.
Uh.
Okay, if you were choosing between whiskey and vodka, which one?
Neither, I don't drink.

Welp. I'm in love. I never really thought that this would happen. Except that one time in the hotel lobby when I fell in love too. BUT that was a long distance relationship. This is just at Smith's. At the One Hour Photo.
Huh.