December 6, 2005

My forearm hurts.

Fingers crossed, everyone. I play footsie with the boy in class this afternoon.

If all goes well, I'll probably be too busy to write a decent post for tomorrow.

If all goes to pot, well, I'll probably be too busy with the petit mort (see sample, second row far right) to write a decent post for tomorrow, too.

I mean, it's not like I played footsie with a boy yesterday, but this post isn't exactly my best.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.