Anyway, as I have been nicely ejected from his apartment (I understand, I mean, I need to write a paper and he needs to study, but still), and my plans cut drastically short (as my nerves have, too. Although that is only one piece of the sour fucking pie that has been today), Ruth my dear, if you get this, would you still like to debate philosophy? I have three dollars to my name that are begging to be spent on a starbucks coffee to sit outside watching people and debating Jesus. Well, at least for a little while. My cell is 541-206-4502. There, world, call me and debate religion. Or just love me.
My nerves today are not my forte. I woke up this morning after only four hours of sleep and my fucking boykitten had peed in little puddles all over my bed. More like sprayed it. Five times. Welcome to fucking monday, mate.
Watched trainspotting. Thought of a certain someone. you know who you are.
The end. Must resist temptation to update 80 gajillion more times today. Um, well, we'll see about that.