in your stripped out apartment

oh, we kissed only once. you sold all your furniture...

Mission: accomplished. Somebody vomited on roommating infidel's sheet thingy, we smoked a bit in the apartment, and I needed a quarter so I traded one off the infidel's desk for a Canadian one. That's about enough passive-aggressive retaliation for the various necrotizing, sugary, or flaming goos left about the room. The only downside of helping I---- do speakerphone drunk-dialing of everybody on his cell phone is that, sober or not, it makes you want to do some drunk-[or sober, but the spirit of it is drunk]-dialing of your own. WHICH IS A BAD IDEA. I was up until 5am fighting the urge to write letters, some I should and some I should not write, settling instead on writing on random people's facebook walls and watching some punk puke on roommating infidel's sheet thing [mission: accomplished]. Oh, and telling said punk all about it, because he would undoubtedly forget everything that happened after the movie [and he did]. You were my Fiji!

Note: any references to kisses, Fijis, and other such stuff are purely fictional and drawn from songs. And we only got to 'E' on his phone with one, in my opinion, crucial, omission.

[I know I shouldn't be writing here, but what else is there to do during spring break?]