I smoked four Dunhills last night and my lungs feel like I smoked an entire pack in ten minutes. I should probably stop smoking (for awhile). I was good for a second there, but youth will get you every time. I'm invincible, you know?
My close friend Zoe came to visit me last night. We both acquired our first severely broken hearts within a few months of each other (that is, the past few months), so our combined social being is a force to be reckoned with. We went from the streets, to a creeper den, to a USD party on Mission Beach. We were "those girls" who got too drunk for their surroundings, took control of the iPod, and danced by themselves in the living room. I mean, we were switching between The Doors and Dr.Dre, I'd think we were cool. No one REALLY wants to talk to "those girls," especially if it's a USD party. USD kids cling together like its some sort of law of their physical property. Boys will walk away from you (me) in mid conversation and girls will smile for a second before giving you the up-and-down and looking away, never to make eye contact with you again.
Hm, yes, cordial characters those toreros. Is that how you spell it?
Sometimes I look in the mirror and say "Fuck. I'm really blonde." I know I'm really blond, but sometimes it hits me, like last night in an old friend's kitchen while I was making mac and cheese and glanced up into a mirror on the wall. He was wasted, but I was the one that got the mac everywhere, so I cleaned his stove top just so his roommates wouldn't hate me.
The 2-5 hour drive I'm about to do from San Diego to Los Angeles makes me wish my lungs didn't hurt so I could have something to pass the time without realizing I'm getting cancer.
Will anyone read this? Are you entertained by reading this?
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