I keep promising to post. Unfortunately I've got a bit of writer's block. I mean, that's not true, I've got plenty to say just am having a hard time sitting down and doing it. I've even tried from my blackberry.... so you know it's serious when I can't even finish it on my phone. ha.
I'm doing a little too much right now. Finals are over tomorrow, I just got all these new clients, it's the holidays, my wonderful family is in the city, my wonderful friends make me happy everyday.
I'll get there.... thanks for hanging on.
OK. Full disclosure: I had to stop things with my banker on Monday. No big drama or anybody done wrong, he's still one of the best boys I know. He's real sad. And I mean, I'm not jumping for joy about it... but whatever, it is what it is. I really like him, but I really love me.
I have close to zero interest in like, explaining it now, but probably here now in a few I'll have a nice life lesson or little pearl. But for right now, I've got nothin.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
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1 comments:
I hate working and in order to pass these painful hours I stalk blogs. You usually provided me with a 5 or 7 minutes of escape from this campaign. But as usual, you're selfish and fail to do anything for others, like update this site or let the guy finish first. Both of which are things I need.
Sorry to hear things went sour with The Banker, I wonder if he reads this site, what would he do if he did? Imagine if he read your emails, sucker.
Now that you are single, I guess I will need to resume my duties as your Life Coach. I can't wait for your life to spiral out of control, again, and I get to tell you what a clown you are. I wonder if anyone even reads these comments and if I could really say whatever I wanted.
How are you friends you refer to only by initials? SM, TA, JK, LOL, TTYL, etc? What about your friends you refer to only by nicknames, for instance, Red Rat? I wish you had this blog abroad, one it would be great to reread, better yet to actually remember what happened.
Every single time I hear Paris mentioned I think back to the motel/hostel/future crime scene we stayed in for a night. We knew things were not looking good when we rain to the train station in the rain and had no idea how to get to France or when we arrived, no idea how to get out of the slums.
Remember when we believed our own fabricated story of you nearly being attacked in the halls? When I retell the story to friends, I have to remind myself that it did not really happen. But it would have been awesome if it did.
Now I feel like I have a blog writing this comment. I think you would prefer if comments were shorter, no pun intended.
What about your roommate, Patty. That girl was fucked up. You literally attract special cases everywhere you go.
What the fuck, I have to sign in to post this stupid comment. What kind of jank-ass blog is this? What if I wanted to call you were a slut anonymously?
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