Monday, December 8, 2008

Satan is my motor.

you're never there when I call,
but you're always online.
I didn't give you my all-
so baby be mine.

As I promised (and you most likely don't remember) here is the video of the girl hitting the pole that everyone I've showed (mostly) thinks it is hilarious:

for your own sake, turn down the volume to mute. you can hear us squealing in the background and it's very unplesant.
Thank you, Jamie, for giving me seven wonderful versions of "Last Christmas".
I'm in the process of writing my Anthro paper but my computer, my stomach and my lack of concentration keep getting in the way.
Ashleigh really wants to go to Geagle to get either ice cream or chocolate and won't stop pestering me to walk down to get it. I hate to break it to you, but it's like ten degrees outside. The onl reason I'd go outside would be if there was a fire in our apartment or John Mayer was waiting outside to seranade me with a love song. And since the latter will never happen, the only chance you have of getting me out of this apartment would be some random act of arson.

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