Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Something catchy here

My wick is spent. The remaining wax is in poor fashion. We won't even discuss the possibility for flame.

It's 5:30 p.m., and I'm shamelessly going to bed. 

I may get up before morning, and I may not. I don't care as long as I don't start puking between points (a) and (b).

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