I'm about to juant out to the bars with Johnathan, and later, Melati, and later, Justin, and later, no one (because I'll be home, not because I'll be alone at a bar going "AY, GIMMEnnnOTHER, y'CHUMP"). I've graduated, as well, of course, and I still have to take 3 quick credits. And I need a job. It's a good thing that my lady-friend rocks harder than front row at a KMFDM show. Today we went shopping at the Buffalo Exchange, and while buffalos are curiously not an exchange option there, they had the most rockstar vintage used clothes I've seen, and at rather comfortable prices. I want to work there. Actually, I'd like to work at any place other than a slave labor camp or food industries, so my window is sort of open. Then again, my window is the size of a pinhead, thanks to another pinhead called GEORGE BUSH. PS: I HATE YOU.
I don't hate you, thought. Just the economy. Rawr.
Red Bull gives you wings. It also gives you an attitude, brief abilities to type 4,434 words a minute, and, for a small time, invisibility. Rad rad rad.
If all of you aren't watching 24, by the way, you most likely should be. What a show. What a glorious, glorious show.
Chi charging until retrograde is complete,
Jared