A series of texts from me to my friend. Her responses are in italic:
- I’ve got Lindsay Lohan standing next to me.
OK, it’s actually a girl that looks just like her. Only not so… used up.
- Oh, and not as much up top. That’s not a bad thing, though.
- bad for whom? =)
- I have no idea how to answer that.
- I keep trying to get a picture but it’s too obvious.
She’s got green eyes, too. Damn.
- She’s getting on my bus. She lives in my neighborhood?
See, this is why I don’t believe in a loving god. Cary’s drunken gods seem more likely.
- HOLY FUCK. SHE’S READING ALBERT CAMUS.
IN THE ORIGINAL FRENCH.
- The pages are covered in notes! SHE WRITES IN HER BOOKS.
I’m in love. And still… paralyzed.
- Oh, I completely forgot to mention the iPod. I’m dying to know what she’s listening to.
- I lost you, didn’t I? 🙁
- if you tell me you she got off (or you did) without saying anything to her, I’m going to kick your butt!
- You’re going to have to kick my butt, then.
She EVEN GOT OUT AT MY STOP.
- Stop that shit. =)
- I KNOW!
I’m laughing at myself so hard right now.
- I’m not so much with the laughing and more with the butt-kicking.
…does that tell enough of the story?