overocea: (i'm an unbutterflie girl)
[personal profile] overocea
so i'm wondering what the fuck is up with drycleaners lovingly caressing muculent looking stains? it's not like it could possibly be anything anyone would want to touch.

me: *dumps a pile of disgusting clothes on the bench*
little old drycleaner lady: *goes through them till she finds the most disgusting article of the lot* oh, look, stains! what happened here, then? *picks at an encrusted glob of goop*
me: ... hello? THAT'S VOMIT.
little old drycleaner lady: *yanks hand away in horror* oh! okay then. well, what about this? this isn't vomit! *pick pick pick*
me: um, yeah. THAT'S SEMEN.

meanwhile, a mystery someone just ordered me a paid-for surprise pizza, yay! MUAH!

no doubt to enforce a break during mad-essay writing. ahh. well i've just started (thus the livejournaling...). it was due yesterday, but Sarah & Hawkins stopped to visit on their way to the snow, and ended up distracting me for two whole days. and last night i'd the worst hayfever evar. I went miserably to bed at 8:pm, forestalling all my plans of intoxicated wonder :<

SHE FLOATED ON AIR LIKE THE CREST OF A WAVE

oh, essay, yes yes. i'm not sleeping till it's done.
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