Blackstar...



After I climbed on the roof and tried to grab the cat that was sitting on top of my chimney, I went and joined two female friends and one girlfriend at a restaurant. Of course they were haunted parasitically by boys. Of course the cockroaches scurried when the Kev light came on. Of course we got the hell out of there after that. They all told me creepy stories about guys hitting on them. This is after about...three hours. Why do girls tell you stories about how uncomfortable they were? When you ask them why-didn't-they-just-say-this? and why-didn't-you-just-do-this? they giggle and say that they didn't want to be mean. Hmmm...makes no sense. I could go on a tangent here, but I won't. I don't like to generalize and I don't like to write too much about even-stupider-stuff than the usual drivel that I vomit out, but...doi, duh, blah, foo, poo...c'mon. Enough said.