MY GIRLFRIEND'S BACK AND SHE'S GONNA KICK YOUR ASS

HEY LA HEY LA MY GIRLFRIEND'S BACK

I'm determined to rework the lyrics of the "My boyfriend's back" song so that I can sing it with the lesbian punk band that I'll never have. I intend to have it done before Bridget comes home for good. (Megan's convinced it will happen and that's good enough for me.)

She's coming home tomorrow for Thanksgiving. I still don't know if I'm going to get to see her tomorrow night or not but I'm putting the fate of my entire weekend on whether or not I do. If I spend tomorrow night alone, Thanksgiving weekend is bound to be four days from hell. If I have a girl at my will, everything will be absolutely fucking fine.

Goddamnit, I miss her.

I'm going to declare a second major in philosophy just for the hell of it. Otherwise, I'll be done with school in three and half years and that means someone has to grow the fuck up and we're not all about that 'round here. So I'm going to buy myself some time.

As I'm writing this, I'm wearing nothing but a towel and I smell very nice. Bob Dylan in the background. Feel free to fantasize.

Or not.

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