• My lovely friends want to rent a house together. Two separate groups. I'm forced to choose between the fairly flaky partier or the two for one couple special. The girl who'll have random guys spending the night and parties every weekend, or the quiet, future-minded girl + stoner boyfriend package deal. There's also the probability of "talks" about his sexual skills (or lack thereof). Nope, not interested. I don't care to know about your adventures with condoms containing benzocaine. There is a reason I remain sexually inactive it's part revulsion, part lack of interest. You know my secrets, kid, put two and fucking two together. Note my disinterest. Christ. The possible eviction or the eternal third wheel. It's alot tougher than you may think. Oh, yeah. I got "dumped." Maybe my return to cynicism was influenced by that? Actually, I don't give a fuck about that. Guys come and go, my interest in that particular one was limited. Life goes on and on and on. Jeff Tweedy's cover of Simple Twist of Fate is lovely. Godfuck. I want to get blazed.

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