Doyle (am_i_done) wrote in paragraffiti, @ 2008-05-27 02:02:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | cordelia chase, doyle |
This was funny. I was laughin’ up my intestines a few minutes ago.
This real nice lady tells me to sit in front of her laptop just because I wasn’t about to go believin’ her about every insane thing that was spillin’ from her trap. All these nutjob things like its 2005 now and all these new flavors of Doritos are just insane and the ice cream place down the road has pomegranate frozen yogurt now. What the hell. Since when do they have frozen yogurt down there? That’s… not right at all.
So I’m sittin’ here looking at the date and I think I might be sick in the brain or in Hell, the sort that wants to drive me up the wall as a form of torture. I was lookin’ forward to goin’ to a nice meadow when I kicked the bucket, a nice meadow with flowers and a bar with lots of drinks and pretty women. LA 2005? That’s not a good afterlife, yeah? Did I do something wrong? Didn’t I burn up good enough? Wasn’t impressive enough, huh?
You guys aren’t all dead, right? Hey Cordelia? Cordelia? Cordelia? Cordelia? I’d type it again but if you read these things, I don’t wanna annoy you into not answering me. I’d put Angel’s name in there but can he even use a computer?
This lady’s house smells like cat pee.
I’m babbling now. I’ll be quiet and drink my whiskey. I never write this much. Type. I’m typing.