you've got this weird hold on me and it's fuckin me up.
hardwood floor nights and too much to drink was never what i was looking for, and it's not what i'm looking for now, but sometimes it plays in my mind for no reason.

you: "i've been busy in the county all week, but when i started drinking i couldn't help but talk to you."
me: "i've been busy not wanting you all week, but when i'm sitting around sometimes i can't help but talk to you."

this is crucially silly because honestly i'm just dwelling on all of my options:)


life update: went to the beach this weekend and parachuted.
1. buckroe: pabbi is fucking stoked, we're all fucking stoked, and then the park ranger informs us on their dog policy. FUCK. At this point we are at a loss for how to fix such a problem.

finallyyyy,
2. first landing: fun for about 2 hours, but only because of the weather. The wind was pelting all of us, the sun rarely came out from behind the clouds, and pabbi was miserable, so we left. We brainstormed and finally decided we'd head back home and try to go to the Randolf pool.

closed.

unsuccessful weekend camping trip #2. good thing i don't give a fuck and can always have fun:)