spent last night with the dead guy, and he refused to let me leave until i smoked all six blunts of cheeba, and looked at his new paper mache art. little did i know, the cheeba was rolled in paper mache too. after i was completley couchlocked and playing with the buttons on my suede vest, a few acquaintances were brought over. they brought out some nose tickle, and i thought it would help be regain my wits. NO! i looked down at my morrissey tour shirt and i was caught in the bukkake of the party. i introduced myself as the tornado to this redhead, girl (she had a u.k. subs shirt on, i thought it was love) and asked her if she wanted a twirl. i may have blacked out after that, but all i know is i woke up about twenty minutes ago, and there was no condom involved, and my moustache tastes suspicious.
also, a little not stoked on how the deathwish catalogue was received in the skate talk.