In which I have the urge to say F*** a lot.

God damn the bastard who stole my f-ing sweater tonight.
I also almost got in a fight with a man in uniform (not like, police, but like Royal Military College), but then he saw my biceps and backed the f*** off.
Damn straight mother f***er.
I'm so over this bar scene. Bring on the tequila and the geckos, baby (and by that I mean YOU, that's right... I shall provide the former of course, duty free).
7 days