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album (music), woody harrelson, robert b. weide, pauline lynch, confess, hip hop, fazed, wake, songs, pachanga, james gandolfini, suzanne shepherd, net comedy, matt dillon, carlito, donna holgate, myboyfriend is a twat, audio, eminemlyrics,
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The phone was in but didn't turn off or give a dial tone. The back damascus was stuck, so I threw it again at a convenient wall, like little bits of glass. The phone, now unsalvageable was piecemealed back together and hung up. I decided to drain some off the alcohol we had in the house, this blue stuff that smells like the bike chain cleaner, some cheap gin - I hid all the shot glasses under the dogs damascus bed and slashed the blow up cooler. I got out and headed to campus. I looked the door twice and kept damascus myself from losing it as I made my way to the Art Building's computer building to read. I got from the library (somehow my card worked... I think the librarian made my card work) and got some weird ass book on McLuhan - a self appointed expert on mass media.
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