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Day Twenty-One

Haven’t been out of the house since Crack-Fest 2014. It was a one-day thing buy my mind is still reeling. I mean, man, I could get a lot of shit done smoking crack. I didn’t get a lot of things done but still, it’s the crack-thought that counts, right?

It made me wonder why stepping on a crack is such a big deal for your mother’s back. What is the correlation between stepping on cracks and my mother’s spinal column? Instead of “step on a crack and break your mother’s back” it should be “knock your mother’s picture over and break your mother’s back”. That makes much more sense to me. I knock my mother’s picture over at least twice a day— sometimes on accident— and nothing bad ever happens to her. Then again, bad things don’t happen to people who are already dead.

Katy and I got in a fight over Skype yesterday. It wasn’t much of a fight, though, since I’m the only one thinking we got in a fight in the first place. She told me she went on a “kinda date” with some guy. The girl said she didn’t even know it was a date until the guy went in for a kiss.

“He doesn’t even speak English, Charlie; don’t worry,” she told me. So I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t worry so well that my internet accidentally turned itself off by itself and we never finished the conversation. That’s how we do passive aggression around here.

So what if he doesn’t even speak English? I consider that cheating. It is cheating so far as I’m concerned. Who the fuck goes on a date with another person when you’re already dating Charlie Brown? Not the future Katy Brown, that’s who.

Morgan’s throwing a party tonight. Going to go to that and see what’s up. Burn off some steam and try to forget all of this. I’m out of weed again too, so maybe somebody can smoke me out while I’m there.

Ugh. Carl is texting me. And Todd called again.

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