You don’t have a bird brain.
That’s a very mean thing to say about yourself. I’d say you have a lovely brain, scattered, full of me, this, that…
I was at my end: the attempt I made to jump in the canal: didn’t work out. A three foot plummet, I ended up soggy next to a bike tire, a city worker had to help me out.
Did I cry on his shoulder? You decide.
What else can I do? I don’t know if you live in the state, if you’re in the police academy, maybe you’re an astronaut now, who knows.
Do you wanna drink some soda pop with me or no?
I’m going to be serious here, and really clear: about a year ago I saw your feet and told you they were the nicest feet I had seen in two years. Honestly, a pretty retarded thing to say, I had coffee on my breath and on my pants, the backyard camping voyage did not execute, you walked in on my roommate working out on a big purple ball. All sounds kind of funny now, doesn’t it?
You have the number to my payphone, use it.
