Saturday, 3 April 2010

The internet needs a breathalizer.

If you're in the mood, please take my place this evening. I'm exhausted. Thank you and goodnight. Enjoy the party. It's on your behalf. Or your bewhole. Something of the sort. Caleb's throwing it. Doesn't he always? He networks more than Telus and knows more people than Jesus. I would totally worry about that except for the fact that I already have proof that he is Satan and he already took my soul.

Rambling. Don't want to go, would much rather sleep. But that would be ungracious of my bewhole.


Drinking, yes. Sorry. No other way to find courage for this one.