Yeah, and I don't even have a boyfriend. Amber doesn't know how to save the vowels.
And I wrote Joe on my pants with a big heart. Fall Out Boy is a Gang. They shoot people and smoke weed. Or at least Joe does. I found my magical sock.
Speaking of magical, I have to write a fantasy story. I'll post it later.
I was talking to my shoes earlier. They were all like, "your feet stink, woman." and I'm all like, "shut up!! I own you!!" and they were all like, "your crazy if you talk to your shoes." so then I stared at the florecent light for ten minutes. It was damaging. So is this...
And...uh.
Omg, look!! Ryan Ross!!! (but not really, stop reading my journal...)
Joe Trohman is 5'10, the tallest member of FOB.
Chuck Palahniuk is one great author...chhhuuu...yeah.
I still need to go to the library.
Me? I'd be very careful who I talked to about this. It sounds like someone dangerous wrote it... someone who might snap at any moment, stalking from office to office with an Armalite AR-10 Carbine-gas semiautomatic, bitterly pumping round after round into colleagues and co-workers. Might be someone you've known for
years... somebody very close to you. Or, maybe you shouldn't be bringing me every little piece of trash you pick up.
Advertisements have them chasing cars and clothes, working jobs they hate so they can buy s**t they don't need. We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives. We were raised by television to believe that we'd be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're learning that fact.
And we're very, very pissed-off.
http://www.hundland.com/scripts/Fight-Club_third.htm
