anti-gravity.

its a little sad. but its only a matter of time. time heals everything isnt it? of course you wouldnt know what im talking about. heh. well, dont need to anyways. in no way that would that let me down. and dearly girlfriends' impromptu generosity made way to a trans-fat party. a fortnight after i declared war against bad bones and age deficiency. cola seemed heaven-sent. french fry a four, in between a palm's lean fingers, and the other, clickety clacking on the keyboard of mine. merci, God. hours after dawn-- after months of procrastinating-- jammed the pint-sized drive into the theather system (hell yeah) and pulled out 'Lucas Scott' sitting on top of 'Joey Tribbiani'. the twisted betrayal tops Mark Burnett's twisted ways of directing. thing is, my heart sank. i am known for my evasive emotions. emotional outbursts bring me no good, or so allegedly. it glassed my eyes, with every bit of poignancy. okay. im being dramatic here am i? hell yeah i am. scrap that now. i forgot how that particular book left me in emotional disarray a year back, and to watch it unfold with actors caged in solidity-- and from a superb Marc Foster, I received nothing less. id better stop.
before that! a new quest is found : ili, lets kick some serious ass for the next four sems. cause we're rocking the plane in 2 years time babe. smack ass! anbreen, you too. jum! and ouh. i was frowning a minute ago for some reasons. and now he plastered a smile back on me. merry.