hiding under the futon didn’t help
Sometimes you look up and it’s already time to go home. It’s not even a good excuse for not having an entry today, but that’s the only one I got right now.
Birthday Week is still going on, since someone told me it’s not over until the last present’s opened. In addition to an amazon.com gift certificate, someone sent me a mix tape in the mail. Unfortunately, it wasn’t from John Cusack.
But I’m using my latest birthday week present when I get home:
Your ass has been very lazy. I’m disappointed in you. First there was the whole “My life is in turmoil” excuse, followed by the “My life is in even more turmoil”, and I think you even gave some excuse about your grandmother at one point (like I don’t hear that one three times a day), and now it’s all, “But Cigarettes told me not to,” and shit.
I’m tired of all of your excuses. You’re twenty-five now. That means you are now trying to beat the gravity clock. You don’t even know what you’re up against. Even though you’ve been ignoring me, I did get you a birthday present this year, because you’ve been a good little conqueror for me for the past year. Don’t stop now, baby.
Enclosed please find Advanced Live #7. I’d better see you at “our place” this afternoon. You wear the blue sports bra. I’ll wear some flashy shorts that will make you dizzy. You bring your sweat and I’ll bring mine.
Billy Blanks (TM)
Wish me luck. If I don’t write tomorrow, it’s because I’m dead.
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