And freedom tastes nothing like reality, but it kind of tastes like a Louie Blue Raspberry Otter Pop.
Vacation is official. Cousin/Roommate and I have already played a round of mini-golf and I've had a beer. Next stop mom's house for many adventures. Next time you hear from me I will be broke, hungover and 39 years-old. That's 273 in dog-years.
(yes, I needed to use a calculator to figure that out. so what.)
California here I come.
Friday, July 14, 2006
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2 say otherwise:
Happppppy birthdaaaayyy!!!
Oh, you think ur gonna get off that easy. . . Leavin' town on yer berfday. I crush you head like bag of eggs.
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