//h.ere//cal state fullofsh*t--err, fullerton
//moo.d//feeling sexy
//after.thoughts//who's there to comfort me?

//three_and_1/2
that's the magic number, because, as you see: i'm running on 3.5 hours of sleep.

why?

claymation and the sarcastic genius of a gigantic irishman named conan o'brien.

seeing clips of jackass the movie in claymation made it that much more enjoyable.

//f.lirty_mc.dirty
i question the idea of whether i'm ever really flirting, because i usually play it hella safe in that area...sometimes i wonder if i come on too cautiously, and come off as sterile. maybe i need to put some nuts into my flirting...

also, i can never tell if a girl is flirting with me, or just talking to me.

if i had an ego, i'd say girls flirt with me.

since my ego has been damaged (a walking open wound, a trophy display of bruises), i can never tell if they just think i'm gay or something...

i say that because my sexuality was misconstrued a lot during four years of high school...in those four years i'd never gotten high...and there was no cool at canyon high school.

but, yeah...i'd love to honestly say that flirting around is working out for me...but...um...whatever. i'm an ass.

and a dweeb.

but a loveable dweeb.

and apparently emo.
with a pinch of hiphop.
two scoops of soul.
a pint of pop.
two teaspoons of punk.
a table spoon of dance.
mixed into a batter to be baked for 45 minutes at 450 degrees fahrenheit.

if everything could ever feel this real forever
if anything could ever be this good again
the only thing i'll ever ask of you
you've got to promise not to stop when i say when
--foo fighters : everlong