i was bored this morning – so i perused my textual conversation with B.
here’s a rag-tag bunch of shit that doesn’t go together other than that it’s all ridiculous:
me: mmmm. redzone
B: fuck you. thanks for rubbing it in. i’m about to eat quiche!
B: i’m a little disappointed in you right now.
me: i had to give people balls.
B: you should have dyed the frosting blue.
me: fitting. the next batch.
me: i just saw the delorean.
B: wait, THE delorean?
me: it could very well have been.
B: could you see the flux capicitor? that’s the only way to know for sure.
me: i couldn’t. it was going too fast.
B: fast enough to time travel?
me: i’d like to think so.
B: me too.
me: because if you can’t believe in the delorean, what can you believe in?
B: nothing. besides, maybe back to the future was based on a true story and we don’t even know it.
me: we should watch it. for scientific purposes.
B: of course. sometimes you have pretty good ideas.
b: happy new year slut.
me: happy new year asshat.
B: go fuck yourself.
me: next weekend. cancel all your plans. i’m getting “i need to get my stomach pumped because i have alcohol poisoning” drunk.
B: let me check my schedule.
with all due respect to my liver – i’m going to punish it this weekend.
i make no apologies.
here’s hoping that this weekend will simultaneously turn out to be the best and worst one of my life. lincoln told me to be reasonable –
but i can’t make any promises.
my weekend consists of:
making bad choices
here’s a picture of what i think is my game face: