(no subject)
Oct. 31st, 2001 07:44 pmI remember Halloween of 1988, when I drank a pint of Bacardi Gold while escorting my young cousin on a trick-or-treating excursion. Then I went to my Dad's and ate Tacos. I was happy as hell, Jack.
But now I am listening to what sounds like rehashed Fat Boys through the ceiling and wondering why I don't tell somebody to fuck off.
But now I am listening to what sounds like rehashed Fat Boys through the ceiling and wondering why I don't tell somebody to fuck off.