Roach flambe!

No real post tonight, kiddos. Just missing someone far away. I know, I know. Way too emo for such a kick-ass guy as myself. Well, if you knew this hellraiser, you'd miss her as much as I do. Basically, anytime I think of someone using a lighter in conjunction with some Raid as a method of controlling the roach problem (and maybe fucking up some marshmallow peeps, too), I'll think of her - her hideous laugh, stringy hair, and sneering contempt for anything that didn't involve early 90's television. I heard some news today that might end with me being back in Atlanta, but I don't want to let the cat out of the bag too early. After all the broken promises and all the false starts (and the skinned knees and sutured hearts, for all the Dr. Dan Yemin fans out there), I don't want to get hopes up again, if they'll still even get up. Sometimes I think the best way to go through life is to make no promises.

I'd sell my big toe to be curled up on a couch, watching some shitty VHS, and drinking Mad Dog 20/20 with her right now. I know I'm being a total fag right now. She'd be the first one to point it out.

Goddammit, Smithwick's will be the death of me.

PS - Ignore the hippie beard. I've since shaved. And this is the only time you will ever see me smile.

http://www.mysharefile.com/v/1950536/Neil_Young_Harvest_Moon.mp3.html