so if youre going to write me a message, add a subject, if you please. we all know that without one, i can see the shit you wrote. thanking you kindly.

that you think i give a damn. i smoke weed and i'm probably a lot happier than you. shit fire.

is tapping his fingers on his desk like he's some sort of drummer. and i wouldnt mind if he was doing a good job. but so far, he blows. i'm going to chop his motherfuckingfingers off.

okay so some old guy deleted all my music off of my computer because it was "taking up too much space." thanks for informing me BEFORE i plugged in my ipod and it sync-ed automatically and WHAMBAMTHANKYOUMAAM... I have no music. So i went to target last night to buy panties and my dad's all "Kid i feel so bad about your music lemme buy you some cds i'm really really REALLY sorry." *insert emotional father-daughter hug here.* So i get home and show the woman that lives with me and she says "oh well he told me he didnt feel responsible at all waah waah waah i like making you feel like turd go cry." thats not verbatim. but still. so thanks for the pity gift. i would like you to know, daddio, i'm probably going to sell those cds and buy weed. thanks for the thought though. thats what counts, right?