2003-02-27

jordan sits across the room and stares at me a while before saying "you look like marylin monroe", which makes me laugh a lot, because that makes no logical sense. i know he's talking about the new chunk of titanium through my face, but i haven't got blonde hair or a white dress, and i doubt ms monroe ever had an obnoxious facial peircing.

ryan makes buscuits and serves them out to everyone while we discuss dumpstering vegetables and miscommunication problems. when its all over some of the boys wrestle each other, and nicklee yells "get a belt, son, crack kills!" before i leave i feel their palms on my back, goodbyes getting mottled and distorted through my hair. the ride home doesn't seem as lonely this night.

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