exactly three weeks

til i fly home. oh, shit.

a note about the last entry: it's a ratio, yall. it's a countdown (or as em so brilliantly termed it, a "cuntdown". speaking of, let's plan a cuntual for the next time we're all in santa, no?). it's like the twelve days of christmas in reverse: 10 things to know about you, 9 whatevers, so we have to read less as we go on, so by the end we only have to read about one person you're thinking about. neat, huh?

i wrote a poem about a dead baby and e-mailed it to mana. for some reason, i think this is hilarious and i know the sick people i associate with will think that too. and no, jeana, you can't read it.

random quotes!
It’s worse than a one-testicle moment because I care about these people. - ylime

In a perfect world, we'd end up together. Or at least sleep with each other. - carre, aka TWIL