I wish the homeless couldn't swim

Julian is the worst gangster. Ever. His drive by skills are top notch(he managed to hit ian's car with some biscuits from the passenger seat of euch's). BUT, when we found one of the biscuits:



lodged in the rear wiper, he picked it up and ate it. eww. Gangsta fail.

There was a dead lizard in my room. It was so sad. Up to the point where I had to drop it into the toilet. The dead body was just hanging on there. Dangling by one of it's legs(or hands, I dunno).






The thing about my brain is that it only works when there's an incentive. The son of a bitch just sits in my head and comes up with excuses to not blog or not study or not write or not be witty or not be sociable, leaving my body on autopilot. This can be very troublesome.

People operate on the inside but cannot observe anything other than what's on the outside. Even if i'm cracking the funniest joke in my mind, i'm just a quiet guy sitting there to everyone else.

It sucks. It makes me look antisocial whenever i'm just shy. Or disgusted when i'm just not being brave. Or boring when i'm just plain bored. I blame my inability to conquer my deep seeded belief that nothing worth doing needs to be done until last minute. In other words, i'm lazy, but I'll always be able to come up with an excuse that makes me look unlazy, and you won't even know it.

I was going somewhere with this.

Nevermind, I'll post something worth saying when I remember what it was that I was gonna say