Hi

Hi

I'm a bit buzzed because we had to celebrate Prinz and Charito's return to Australia. So I decided it would be amusing to hop on the computer and blog drunk. Amusing for whom, I don't know. But what the hay. Is it what the hay or what the hey? Either way it probably doesn't make sense unless you're perhaps a cow huh? I'm going to hit submit on this which makes me a fucking idiot by the way. An idiot who can type pretty damn well though since honestly, I haven't hit the backpsace key even once. WOOT! We're number two! We're number two! Okay only three of you get that joke but I don't particularly care. Also, I'm stupidly hungry. Seriously, I could eat a 30,000 calorie sandwich right now all by myself. Wait, you guys don't get that either huh. Stupid drunken esoteric jokes. Also, Spiderman 3 sucked big ass donkey balls. Right now there are people in Omaha, Nebraska going "My this corn is so much fun to watch grow and I'm so fucking happy we're not watching Spiderman 3 right now."

I'm tired. Did anyone else know that typing was such an aerobic exercise? I hit backspace for the first time right then, instead of "was" I typed "esd" what the fuck does that mean. I could really use some food right now. Also, my parents are visiting from L.A. and they had to let me into the house because I didn't have any keys so I think they know I'm drunk. Which makes this all a little "aaaaaawkwaaaaaard." It's okay though, they're fairly intelligent people so I think they realize they've raised a bit of a drunkard daughter.

I remember one time, in band camp, okay not really, but one time, I was home from college and my friend and I drank two 40s, a bottle of Crown Royal, some tequila and then had a bit of herbal essences. I came home and tried to use my keys but it's like they all of a sudden got really hard to use. Anyway, after 10 minutes of me sticking these keys into holes that didn't fit for some reason, my dad opened the door for me. So I talked to him for five minutes and was all proud of myself for using proper grammar and real live actual words and shit. Then I went to sleep. Still patting myself on the back. The next morning, I woke up to pee and in my big ass bathroom with the closed door, realized that I stunk to high hell. Seriously, I smelled like a homeless person who had smoked ten joints and a carton of cigarettes in a closet, after bathing in tequila. It wasn't pleasant. So the whole time I was talking to my dad, all proud that I was using proper diction and syntax and shit, I smelled awful. Yes.

My point is, this post is a lot longer than I thought it was going to be so I'm going to go. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen adieu. Holy shit did I spell that properly? Woot, I wrock. What the fuck is wrock. I don't know, good night.