So that's what I'm doing. Listening to my bb, Tyler. The party isn't over; we can still dance.
Today is weird as shit okay. My brain is all 'where's the party? Oh wait, I hate everything.' My eyes are all 'oh, you want me to stay open and shit? Hmm.' My mouth is dead and like, 'Don't make me speak out loud, insolent adults.' I'm gonna rock this hood look all day. Translation: my winter jacket and hooded portion of such is going to remain in the 'on' position all day. My fluffy hair will be kempt within its boundaries, its shelter, if you will. And I know you will. Cuz you my boo, boo.
God, go home. You're clearly super drunk on ridiculousness. Or just drink another cup of coffee. That might be sexy. Also, well done on finishing season one of Friday Night Lights. In three days of viewing. You're not über impressive at a whole lot of things, but damn girl. You can binge watch television like a professional. Remember Chingy. He was a rapper. Dope.
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