last night the new roommate and her friends were watching blue velvet. i got about halfway through it before i crashed, curled up in a ball on our dirty-ass carpet. when i awoke an hour later, i thought i'd been awake for the whole movie, but i'd just been dreaming. i guess david lynch is like one big lucid dream anyway.
i spent the rest of the night super creeped out and topped off the fabulous evening with a knock-down, drag-out fight with aaron at 2am regarding the fucking dog who spilled soda all over the bed.
i was told today (by someone who just overdosed on methadone) that i have bad taste in men. could life get any better?