Eat a bag of dicks! Fuck you, Justin. I thought I would never have to talk to you again when you and Dara packed up and left, after you were in my aparment for a good two weeks, messing it up, messing up my quality of life. And so you forgot your stupid Buzzcocks CD here along with some naked pictures of yourself tucked behind Dara's mattress. And yeah, maybe over a month ago, I told Dara I would mail the stupid CD to you.

But still, calling me while I am listening to Julie Ruin's "Apt. #5" over and over again at full blast in unacceptable. Especially when I don't recognize the number, except that it is a Tampa number and think that it is someone I want to talk to, but then it is you. And ugh, just download the stupid tracks. Or better yet, eat a bag of fucking dicks.

Back to pulsating to this song, this song played loud. Louder still.