Stough is tough.

The magnetic poetry on our closet door reads: "We test sleeping in doubt. The room is made of chill."

There are two celebrities that I dislike above all others: Pete Wentz and Hayden Panettiere. I originally went into more detail on this, but nehhh. Oh lord, somehow that reminds me that I had the most frightening dream last night, involving, like, an unruly unicorn, and this guy I used to know. WTF, man? That doesn't have anything to do with Titanic, or Pommes Frittes and lemonade. Or deep-fried peanut butter & jelly at the automat.

What does one write in a blag, anyway? I feel like I'm starting to sound like Creed Bratton.

The word of the week is ridiculous. And by that I mean, ridiculous is the word, and not that the word has the quality of being ridiculous. I'm saying some ridiculous things, I think. I act ridiculously sometimes, also. Don't we all? Ridiculous people are SO off my buddy list. Stuff is tuff, let's all drink vitamin water and draw pretty pictures of butterflies. I was not meant to sound like an idiot right there either. Oh well!