I woke up feeling sick. I think I haven't had a cold this bad in well, years. I'm just going to go blow money on OJ and antihistamines until I can see through lead or run a marathon.
On the way home from class earlier I ran into Luke who was already sitting in front of his house double fisting coffee and a Mickeys. This is pretty usual for Luke since he spends his days doing nothing but trying to become less and less appealing, but this morning has taken the cake. Apparently he had gotten into a fight last night/early morning with some hippie kid named Sloane. I'm not sure who won, but Luke's wrist looks broken. He doesn't want to go to the hospital (lack of insurance) so he's got a towel wrapped around it and resting in his lap. It's really purple and bruised. I should've forced him to go, but I mean, it's Luke and there's not much you could do. Then we talked about beating people until their unconscious, and then making them wake up in odd situations. Like, beating up that hippie guy until he passes out, then go put him in a house with a wife and a kid, a minivan. He'd be like "whoa, they beat me into suburbia."
We also tried the situation where the guy would wake up as a fry cook at Denny's and an Eskimo on a hunting trip.
Plus: I'm back on myspace. The pressure was too much and I broke.
Rachidian
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