Smoking in the girls room.
Wow. I can hardly type right now. My lungs just took a blast back to 1994.
I made this new rule of "no smoking in the apartment" to try and help me cut down, maybe even quit, and so my cat doesn't have to breathe all my disgusting Camel chemicals, because she can't say, "hey fucker, my cute, tiny little lungs never asked for this shit!"
And so, since I'm far too lazy to actually walk outside, I've been smoking in the bathroom, which is unattatched to my actual apartment, so it doesn't really feel like cheating.
And since I've been smoking much less, cuz like I said, I'm too slothful to really get up and do something, that when I do go into the bathroom with my dictionary and lighter, and ciggarettes, it feels like sophmore in high school after lunch, going into the handicapped stall of the girls room with like 4 other people and smoking a Kool as fast as I could so i could get my fix, and still not be too late for my Criminal Justice class with David Brent as clueless teacher. What a rush. Like standing up too fast after eating nothing but Razzles all day long. Super cool.
I fell like i'm going to get caught and have to attend Saturday school in my own home.
But without the #2 pencils, Child Developement worksheet, and the stoner ski team prattling on about black diamonds, and how being drunk is so fucking sweet.
Any of you bitches wanna come over and make me tea, and pet my hair while we watch we Code 46?
I made this new rule of "no smoking in the apartment" to try and help me cut down, maybe even quit, and so my cat doesn't have to breathe all my disgusting Camel chemicals, because she can't say, "hey fucker, my cute, tiny little lungs never asked for this shit!"
And so, since I'm far too lazy to actually walk outside, I've been smoking in the bathroom, which is unattatched to my actual apartment, so it doesn't really feel like cheating.
And since I've been smoking much less, cuz like I said, I'm too slothful to really get up and do something, that when I do go into the bathroom with my dictionary and lighter, and ciggarettes, it feels like sophmore in high school after lunch, going into the handicapped stall of the girls room with like 4 other people and smoking a Kool as fast as I could so i could get my fix, and still not be too late for my Criminal Justice class with David Brent as clueless teacher. What a rush. Like standing up too fast after eating nothing but Razzles all day long. Super cool.
I fell like i'm going to get caught and have to attend Saturday school in my own home.
But without the #2 pencils, Child Developement worksheet, and the stoner ski team prattling on about black diamonds, and how being drunk is so fucking sweet.
Any of you bitches wanna come over and make me tea, and pet my hair while we watch we Code 46?
posted by maria | 2:37 PM
4 Comments:
Criminal Justice? What are you going to be?
Smoking pot and skiing. That sounds like a great mix.
no no no brotha...i took that class like, 10 yrs ago.
hey look at me leavin a comment in maria's journal, i'm on top of the world!
black diamonds are wicked cool and being drunk is super great!
i'd watch code 46 with you, if i knew what it was.
i'd also pet that hair and tea it up and shit.
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