oh, instincts are misleading.

"Well, hell's belles," as my father would say. If I weren't fucking wasted right now, I wouldn't be typing this. Rusty texted me at around 9 p.m. By the time I answered him, it was nearly ten, and he ended up calling me at around eleven. We ended up getting drunk on the line with each other. I smoked my last cigarette at around ten thirty. Oh, I had to smoke some icky, but at least I got to talk to my nig for about 2 hours. We decided that if I don't get the internship, we're going on a road trip to Seattle to see Billie. I need to get out of Philly for a while, and he needs to get away from 'Bama for a while. I think we need to revive the roadtrip...we haven't done it in almost two years.
I think I just talked to Alison online too. I saw that her away message was not there, but she got to me before I got to her. She said, "nice pony." Alison, if you're reading this: I was/am drunk, but I tried to play it off as well as I could...you understand...and I really did promise Felicia I'd drive her for cash. I should sleep if I'm going to be driving tomorrow. "Whateva. Whateva, I do what I want. Ta dow, ta dow...how ya like me now?" -Cartman.
Fuck, I still need cigarettes...I'd kill for one. Too bad there's been a bunch of robberies and thefts, and a rape in Society Hill...and good thing they passed out flyers...cause if they didn't, I'd probably walk to Wawa in my junked up state. Oh, well, in the morning I'll get my fix...though it won't be the same.