late on a friday night, when you cant sleep, and its already after midnight, and you've been listening to kelly osbourne's sleeping in the nothing for the last few days on repeat, and you think that by calling jeff it will give you enough energy to delete energy and try to sleep. but rather, you end up talking for a half an hour. listen to the cd two more times. glaze your eyes over nylon. again. and revel in the conversation you had. about going home with someone from al queda, starbucks super keeners, the wonders of SOY FOAM, how fucking trashy urban behaviour is, that kelly ellard has moved on to the big house, and that mix tapes sooo make me want to bump and grind.
other than that, i think someone got a hold of my credit card information and when i get home im going to call them and tell them to stop all transactions on my card. except for preauthorized ones. fuckity fuck fuck.
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