My grandparents just left. They've been here from Wednesday until about 9AM today. Thanksgiving was...interesting.
I hate the food.
I'm a vegetarian, so nothing was edible, really. I ended up eating mashed potatoes and stuffing, since those were meat free.
Now I must type something in the vicinity of 50 pages this week, 35 of which are journals, 10 is a paper, and another 5 is the English paper I haven't finished yet.
Crap.
I'm going to die.
That's why I'm sipping 151 and Coke.
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Written Vicodin
If words were as refreshing as dew in the morning,
If words could erase the pain,
If words were as calming as hot tea and weed,
I'd be God.
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(Shitty cell pics will have to do, for now)
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