Patricia's Haphazard Meanderings

Ever since Cinco de Mayo, I smell tequila everywhere. It usually haunts menthol cigarettes, my body wash, salsa, and ocean wind. I don't know...

I spent that night listening to what expired frat guys had to say about how boys lay some deep lies on a girl to get her into bed. I started the conversation (OBVIOUSLY), but these men went at for a good two hours. They outlines the historical progression of pick up lines since their four, five, six, seven years in college. It became a science of lies and let downs and I'm not sure if I learned anything that night other than its always been my own fault for gobbling down a fresh batch of "you're one of the coolest girls I've ever met" lies.

I sliced my finger open with a razor blade the other week and have been playing with charcoal ever since. I hope it heals with the charcoal still in it so I can have a cool black line across my finger.

I'm going to go stroll the PB boardwalk (I carry the weight of this house on my eyelids. I cannot stay awake or motivated) and take some pictures for no real reason. But do they ever?

I wrote an article about emoticons. I'm going down hill at the age of 20.