Over the course of my life, my inner gears have become tightly wound to the point of my teetering on the brink of total malfunction. Two friends and I had some drinks at my house Friday, and not even my Salty Dog (grapefruit juice and vodka, in a glass with a salted rim) could loosen the knot of my paranoia. I predict that I'm either going to leash out and become a total menace the instant I leave home, or I'm going to die of high blood pressure before I turn sixteen.
On an unrelated note, we proceeded to see 300 tipsy, which was a really excellent idea.
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1 comment:
only a salty dog can soothe my woes... and by soothe my woes i mean make me gag with sodium overdose. LET'S PARTAY AT LA PLAYA
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