I'm Studying You

How I got into Katie's pants.

Don't be a douchebag, and get yer minds out of the gutter. It's not like that. At all. No really. At all.

We all kinda looked ridiculous at the lawn fete last night. I had a wig-lookin' thing on with a headband. It looked like hair. We had a boombox. Dancing ensued. It was so stupid it was funny.

Kinda looked ridiculous? Totally.

Til some roidoid kicked the box out of Winkz' hand. The cd ejected, but this one dude totally palmed the box out of mid-air and this other one snagged the cd in mid-flight.

I'm totally jammin' on old-skool hip hop right now.

Anyway, Amber came down last night with a pair of Katie's sweatpants from her college. My place is an apartment, albeit a big and nice one (when it's clean). It's not a museum. Touch things. Use things. It's ok. But expect the same behavior back.

So when Amber left those mad comfy sweats here, I dropped my shorty shorts and put them on. And ohhh, were they nice. That's what happens. I slept in them. And I had a nice sleep. A really nice sleep too.

I guess Katie got pissed. So I dropped trou and threw on my own clothes when Winkler and some stoner chick came by this morning to re-collect clothing items. I have no shame when it comes to dropping trou. None.

Besides, Katie is an amazing, responsible and educated girl with lovely curves and she will do well in life. That was my best chance of ever getting in her pants. Wearing them.

Yes, that does totally make me a loser.

Going to dad's today and hanging out with my bro and sis and Poppa B and my sis's bf and my aunt and uncle was so nuts in a great way. My bro wants to hang out and he saw the CWC who fucked with me hard today when we stopped in. He's diesel with his job that his mom got him even though I'm her soon-to-be ex-husband's son and I've been out of work a lot longer. I tried sleeping, because I'm such a slow eater and my allergies from the cats were kicking up intensely. I swear I'm still finding cat hair up my nose. And my eyes have itched like they have some sort of disease. I jammed my short, fat, Italian fingers into my peepers more often than some wack-ass rapper has put out mix-tapes. Yes I'm looking at you, Lil Wayne.

I freaked on Alex today. Bigtime. She stomps in here like she owns...But you can't spell Downs' without owns, and money is tight so don't just grab my smokes like it's obvious that it's the only reason you come down here and I said I had none for you. I did call her all sortsa names, but that bitch needs to get her shit wrecked, as does her older brother. They are both annoying and I would love to deuce powerfully at them. I mean that. They are such poseurs.

But I shouldn't be bitchnessing. I got into Katie's drawers. I guess I got some 'splainin' to do. My bad that I'm too wanting more sleep that I don't want to know what has been said lately. I want to just sleep.

Ain't my job...to fuck you on your birthday... anymore.

I'll post some pics soon, I swear. Familial ones. Non-offensive ones.

Must get sleep. Go Bills.