Hollister Can Keep the Bathing Suit they Owe me.

So.... I was in Hollister today with the intention of embarrassing Mary Allen. Unfortunately, the plan quickly fizzled and our group was stuck walking around. During this walkabout, I found this jacket I liked and was modeling it for Sarah, Heather, Caroline, and Jonathan. While this was goings on, some store official walked past me and told me I was stretching the jacket thus rendering it unsellable. Instead of the "Fuck you, cock munch" that he deserved, I told him okay and then put the jacket up. Anyway, the moral of the story is that Hollister has little to no skill in handling it's customers. I had been contemplating buying a shirt that was a exceptionally kick-ass shade of blue, but you know what, fuck that. And you guys can keep the bathing suit you owe me. And Abercrombie, you guys can keep those pants I lent you. Fuck all you guys, I'm going home, stop calling me, and tell you sister to stop making passes at me. Oh, and your mom says "Hi". Through a mouthful of cock, bitch.
Specifically my cock.

So, I'm in this band, right? We call ourselves Jeffre's Tambourine. We sound like nothing you have heard before. In the absence of an actual god, we are a suitable substitute... on a bad day. Like when we get splashed with mud and find out our boyfriend is dating his ex. And we just found out we were pregnant. Even then, we are still an unprecedented level of raw.

I got this pretty cool book the other day called "Subway Art". I enjoy it.

And I'm kinda dissapointed with Mr. Bell at the moment.