I want Vicodin. And an uzi. I shall not post anything witty as I am still in hate-everything mode from my apartment being broken into and my laptop being stolen. It was just a baby, not even a year old. Also, the twit stole my knife but not my jewelry. So now there's a moron walking around with a weapon and a wireless card. Bastard.
On the plus side, I'm moving from Sketchyville to Snobbyville and that's going to make it a helluvalot easier to marry rich. Mayhap I'll meet a Cabot-Lowell at the laundromat. 'Cause...they don't have washing machines. Or people to wash their clothes for them.
Nuts to this, I'm having waffles.