I don’t care if it’s my last day–I STILL hate Crisplant. Still breaking them.
Another gift card (and really, this stuff is too good to be made up) on a c.d. Two presents, one went to a guy, one went to a girl. This one was for the girl: “[Girl’s name ending in i] study her moves, learn them, know them! Then you can tempt my soul like Sakira does. But you can honestly say you have mountainous breasts. Merry Christmas to the two of you.”
I am so tired. I cannot wait to get on that plane. When I’m not sleeping, I’ll be moisturizing my disgusting hands (cuts, dry skin, general nastiness). When I’m not moisturizing my hands, I’ll be sleeping.
