yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


i'm really quite cynical about ringing the boy to see if he's still alive, or even awakened from the stupor which i left him in approximately 22 hours, fifteen minutes, 39 seconds ago. a bit embarassed about him trying to go down on me, drink in hand, passing out as i told him to get off of me. aged: 28 years and still, not quite right about girls, liquor, fucking in general. worried about hair and spongy ass. frightful, the things i dont admit but write down obviously for him to read. am holding cigarette in one hand, trying to type and occassionally stopping to pick up cheap champagne.

update on boys in my life: none.
d-land