Chi compri i pantaloni?

Yeah, Rosetta Stone is what I’ve been doing for the last few hours.

So, who buys the pants? God, I wish I knew how to say “bug-eyed” and “awkward” in Italian.

FFFfffffff

So, uh, my week has been kind of lousy thus far.

Imagine, if you will, I’m cruising along in an awesome car…

Then, out of nowhere, a herd of odds decided to stampede across the road right before I could make a left turn into the parking lot of Happiness Hotel.

One of them stuck its head in through the window and smacked me across the face. Another opened up the hood and destroyed the gasket valves, and through the windshield I saw two of them making off with my Tuesday night.

I got out of the car and chased them down until I got it back, but I slipped on some black ice and broke all of my fingers, and when I returned my car was on bricks, and my self-respect scented air freshener was shredded up in the passenger seat.

My friend was screaming and crying inside the trunk, and I couldn’t open it because not only were my fingers broken, they had fallen off two seconds ago and I was standing on them. I didn’t know what else to do, so I bit my lip in the same spot four times.