I think something truly magical happens when you put two genuinely disgusting people together. All my life I thought that no one could rival the massive piles of used kleenexes (Kleeni) which I like to leave like joyful heaps of Easter joy wherever I go. My parents and friends stood by in amazement, witnessing this unparalleled feat of natural habitat distruction at the will of my unruly sinuses. This is before Tim and I started dating mid-allergy season last year... and now as DC blooms, I realize that this love of ours comes partially from the fact that no one else on earth could sympathize with two such lovely balls of phlegm as we two.
We could fuel Beijing on the heat produced by our burning kleeni. There's nothing hotter, really.
On another note- I find it ironic that I flew all the way across the ocean to see an art exhibit of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the most influential painter/lithographer of the absinthe-crazed Parisian district of Montmartre on the cusp of the 19th & 20th centuries (shwooooooo). If that sentence was entirely too educational, try this on for size: I don't care who the pope is. He doesn't look nearly as lovable on a stamp as the last one did.
My two best friends just turned 22 this week*, meaning I'm next. Kacie may be fat but I'm O.L.D. (and wiser by not much)
*Happy Birthday guys.
Y'all are gross. I knew I liked you for a reason.
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