Okay so here's what's up. I did Christmas early this year. On Christmas eve eve. And the booty? I got a crepe griddle (sweet) a beatles poster. A beatles album. New Norah jones. Shoes. A shag rug. Raisins. Super cool. Smooth away. Effing awesome. A system for my car. And my house flooded. Great. Hope yours was better. Tell me what you get. Happy Christmas.

Mkay fellas thing is when you send someone a message you have to enter a subject. Otherwise it doesn't go through. So let's try again. What do I want? A subject My kingdom for a subject.

Okay so I'm considering becoming a celebrity. No idea whAt I expect to be famous for. Maybe I'll be professionally drunk. I mean I'm no Craig ferguson, but... I mean, maybe a little. Just lacking man parts And Irish decent. I'm going to be a zillionaire and die in a million different ways. I know that NO ONE is reading this. But if you do happen to read it, tell me I'm a superstar and my efforts are not futile. I SHALL SUCCEED.

someone sent me a message without a subject. and i cant read it untill it has a subject, apparently. so... if you sent me a message, i would be very appreciative if you'd resend it. WITH A SUBJECT. that blinking envelope makes me want to kick someones teeth.

fuck that man. i hate those people all "ahhhh fuck my lifeeee". so fuck it. I hate my life. But thats okay, i guess. I mean, at my age, isnt the detest of ones own life...expected? shit, man. I'm going to do the damn thing, untill im too tired to do it anymore. Then i'm going to go home and sleep so i can wake up and do the damn thing again, every day for the rest of my life. And thats good.

fuck you. fuck you fuck you fuck you. im fucking tired of waiting. because ive loved you even when you were gone. even when i was gone. when you were in jail, and when i was in denial i loved you. i love you now, but i love myself now. im in love. and theres nothing you can do to stop me. im in love with a boy who thinks i am a pearl. the apple of an eye. so fuck you.