Last stop: Kingston

Yes, that's right. After two disgusting cleaning days, I'm kind of moved into my new place in Kingston. I would go further into detail, but I'm at Lauren's using her computer. SO what I'm going to do instead is do a really compact re-cap of the past couple of days.

Blue Rodeo:
Scott had a wicked-ass time, and I was SO incredibly to make him that way. He was even singing along, which put the biggest smile on my face. Also, so many old people smoke up. I was sitting beside this one 50-year old couple, and they kept smoking and smoking and smoking through out the show. Crazy, I know.

Send Off:
I had one of the best nights of the summer, thanks to my good friends. Everyone who was there was on their best behaviour (including Veronica and Danielle) and they made a great night to end the summer back in good ol' Mississauga. Even after failing to get a Kareoke (?) bar that never existed.

(As I type this I'm smoking up with "A"wesome Lauren and Cindy, so mind this post.)

After the night Scott and I smoked up with my brother. Following this Scott and become really, really horny, and fucked like rabbits. Err...I'm high.

The Move Out:
It was a puzzle to pack all of my shit into the truck, but somehow Don did it. Dropped Scott off at Peterborough, and did a lot of cleaning of the new house. It was so gross. Eric was so nice to come over and help with us. We then all went out to East Side Mario's. Good food. Then I crashed at Eric's after smoking up and walking along the lake--and consuming a full litre of Gellato. I never had Gellato, but A%P now carries it, and Eric coaxed me into sharing it. Yeah. Haha, funny thing: My parents /love/ him.

More Cleanging
Finished cleaning my house. And my parents are awesome. They payed for a duvet cover, duvet, sheet and more bed stuff. And some groceries. I was so surprised how much they spent for me...and all of the free restaurant trips. and all their cleaning that they did, and heavy lifting. it was so awesome; it really meant a lot to me.

They eventually left after the cleaning and some of the organising was done. I still have so much to do. Anyways, after I cooked meghan dinner, and it took forever for the chicken to cok. we kept having to throw the stuff ack in the oven.

After Eric Lauren and Cindy came over, and we christened my room with pot. we then went to lauren's and had more. well, still going actually. I'm really tired and i'm possibly crashing here. yeah, shut up. i'm not scared of my other house...

PS -I won't have th enet for at least a week. i'm just using laurne'ts computer.

You're Too Cool

Let's play a game! The titles for the majority of my posts--if not all--come from song titles or song lyrics. See if you can name who sings these songs. Okay. Go.

Had a fun time at Aldelphia's with some good friends. Made plans to do a pub crawl through Port Credit on Friday night--the first and last pub crawl of this summer. I'm looking forward to it, as should all of you...you will get to hear about it and all.

Apparently my cousin is going to the Blue Rodeo concert tomorrow, and my mom is absolutely paranoid that she will see Scott and I together doing something other than standing close to one another (you know, holding hands or kissing--something scandalous like that). My mom fears that my cousin will then tell my aunt, who is one of the biggest gossipers in my family.

Kingston is approaching quickly. It's going to be sad not seeing everyone for copious amounts of time. I think the fact that I'm actually never coming home for a length of time as long as the summer again is kind of hitting me. I mean, I'm going to miss certain peeps. Yes, I said 'peeps'. The point is that despite my readiness for moving off, I'm still going to miss the times spent with the people I <3 dearly back in good old M to the I to the--ah, fuck it--ssissauga.

OH! You wanna hear (read?) something cool? Well, apparently anyone with someone in their ancient family tree who survived the black plague (y'know, that vicious disease that wiped out a lot of people a long time ago) is immune to the HIV/AIDS virus. This one guy from San Francisco was living it up in the gay community (having unprotected sex with HIV-positive partners) and did not contract the virus, unlike so many of his friends who all passed away. Curious over why this was, he whored himself out to research, and this one doctor took him in. After much research and blah, blah, blah, it turned out that this thing he had in his blood, I think it was called delta-32, protected him from the virus. Apparently only about 3-million people carry this delta-32 in all of North America and Europe, so, obviously, it's hard to find other people who are immune to HIV/AIDS.

They took this one step further and dug up mass burial sites in Europe, where all of the black plague victims would be currently residing. After much DNA testing, all of these bodies didn't have the delta-32, providing more evidence in favour of this AIDS immunity. Crazy, no? Too bad AIDS is indeed a virus, and will only mutate itself out of our grasp to cure it yet again.

Food goes in here

I'm able to see Scott in less than 12 hours. I'm able to kiss and hug Scott in less than 12 hours. Jesus tap-dancing Christ it's been a long 3-weeks since I've seen him last.

Life is but a memory

I just finished going through all of my pictures which caused a flood of memories from high school to invade my head. (I'm packing, I swear). There were so many good times and so many good friends. Too bad a lot of them turned out to be dirty cunts who I would never want to associate myself with--it's a shame, really. Oh well, c'est la vie, as they say.

But man. Those were some damn good times. Especially 3AL and 4AL, the exchange trip to England, birthdays, cafeteria lunches, and random late nights in someone's basement. Change, they say, is one of your greatest friends and worst enemies, all rolled into one nice, neat little package.

God...so much shit to organise and pack. Ugh.

Cellular Modular Interactive-odular

I now have a banana cell phone for Kingston! After much research, I went with Telus as they offered what I wanted for a really good price. The deal I went with gives me 100 day time minutes, as well as unlimited local calling during the evenings and weekends. I spend 5 extra bucks to get the extended hours, so the unlimited calling starts at 6pm instead of 8 or 9 pm. It also comes with voicemail, caller ID and call waiting. Go me. The deal is nice, considering I'm using this as my home phone. One of the greatest things about my plan, too, is that the local calling can be altered depending wherever I am. For example, if I'm in Toronto, and I make a call to a Toronto-based number, the call is considered local. It's great I tells ya.

When I wasn't engrossed with my cell phone, I was having dinner with Katlynd (who took my cell phone's virginity--when we were 2-inches from each other in the back seat of the car), Patricia and Jason. After this they all wanted to do their separate biddings, so I ended up home with Claire and we watched City of God. Man, that is a well done movie. I thought the cinematography was superbly looked after. I highly recommend it.

And now to go back to fiddle with my fancy-shmancy cell phone. *cool*

It's in his kiss

There's nothing like being drunk in the afternoon after having a delicious lunch. My neighbor, Albert, invited my mom and myself over for lunch, and what a splendid lunch it was. He made sure our wine glasses were never empty--which is always a plus in my books. I'm not a fan of white wine--this may be because I have failed to find a white wine to my liking--but the wine Albert presented was perfect.

Yeah. So here I am, sitting here with a small percentage of alcohol flowing through my veins. Albert is, like, the perfect guy for anyone. I might be just saying this because I'm tipsy, but a man who can cook is a godsend.

Seemingly stuffed, I shall lay down to sleep.

Fucksticks

Ugh. I'm back in a bad mood. I was floating on cloud 9 after getting myself out of another funk mood, and then *poof*--bad mood. Well, actually, the *poof* was more like things I was thinking about. Yeah.

I had such a shitty night at the concert tonight. People are fuckwits. I hate them. So much. And the stand-lead was kind of bitchy. She's super nice; but bitchy tonight. At the end of the night I find out that my till is short over $100. A lot of investigations go on, and I ended up missing the fucking train.

Get this. For a long time I thought I was stranded at Ontario Place--I thought I had missed the last train going to PC or even Toronto. I give my folks a ring, and they said that they wont' pick me up. Frustrated, I get lost at the Ex. Getting lost at the Ex, especially at night, is not cool. From the corner of my ear I hear a train. I run to the sound to find a train going to Toronto. Excellent, I thought! When I arrive at Toronto I could take the street car back to Longbranch, and home is just a 50-minute trek away from there!

Once I reached Union Station I found a train heading back home at 12:44am. Lucky me. So, long story short, I get home.

I smoked a joint on the way home to relax--stressful night. Now you know why this entry doesn't make sense.

END COMMUNICATION!

Inspired by Caron...

Four days until I can see Scott...and Blue Rodeo.
Six days until I move up to Kingston.
Nine or ten days until Naked Weekend.



God damn Ex. I hate walking through it alone; it's a pretty sketchy environment late at night. Like, to the max. For some reason all the weirdos and fuck-ups and hicks all congregate in this red-neck friendly area where ridiculously fat children (and adults, for that matter) run around causing huge delays to get to and from work. These characters also wear tight-fitting clothing and have really thick glasses. I'm sure it'd be better if you were with friends; that way you could make fun of everyone who disgusts you.

It tastes like burning

There's a new Petro Canada going in on Hurontario. The funny thing is that there's a fourth window to place an extra digit for the price.

Work wasn't bad. Some obviously drunk gay dude tipped me $7 for beer. He ended up standing over to the side between Deep Purple songs to talk to me. Flattering, really.

Katlynd is giving up pot on Sunday, so after work we honoured that--with weed.

I hate the stupid CNE. It's tacking on another 15-minutes to the other 20-minutes it takes already to get from the train station to Molson Amphitheater. This is only added to the 20-minute train ride, and the 20- to 25-minutues to walk from my house to the PC station. Fun times I swear. But tomrrow I'm buying 5 chocolate bars for only $3. Huzzah.

And now I sleep.

Sarah McLacklan part Deux

At the last minute I decided to volunteer whore myself out to the Molson Amphitheater for the second Sarah McLachlan show. I was lucky to be put on a bar-esque place which only dealt with booze and pizza; this provided better tips. After the show a bunch of us wanted to check out the beer tent that the Ex has, and waited for our train which turned out to be a fucking bajillion hours late. No, wait, it was 20 minutes late. But whatever--same thing.

Heh, I would try to make this sound more interesting by adding a metaphor or simile, but I'm really tired and I have a bit of a headache.

I have so much packing to do. My room is in the exact same state as when I dumped everything from Kingston into the middle of the floor when I first came home for the summer. It's going to be fun. But it's now exactly one week before I'll be in Kingston. Can't. Fucking. Wait. (Yes, the extra periods are necessary).

Not much else to say. Scott really enjoyed the risqué pictures I took of myself. Trainspotting is continuing to prove itself to be really good book. The end.

Attention all Tip Thieves!

Fuck you! You don't go around stealing tips! That's the lowest of the low and your mother wouldn't be proud of a filthy cunt like yourself! The next time you even think of stealing tips, ram that fist up into your crotch and then play in traffic.

Bastards.

I have no one to talk to right now so I'm just going to ramble incessantly to myself.

Question: Why is it necessary to state the population of a city/town/whatever when entering its borders? Why have that bit of superfluous information on the "Welcome to" or "Now Entering" signs? Why?! I don't really care how many people live in a city when I enter it. Why should anybody else?

She likes to sit in silence

I've kept my self occupied these past couple of days. Monday I mixed some of my favourite things together: pot and video games. Erik and I would have beaten Mario 3 if the Nintendo didn't crap out on me. Claire and Julia joined us sometime after. We smoked some more and went to Adelphia's, where we ate and watched synchronised diving, which is by far one of the coolest events; anything which involves sexy looking guys in nothing but a Speedo is considered to be a cool, nay, sexy-cool event. But I digress. Following the stuffing of our faces at the restaurant, we went back to my house where Claire became a little huffy over video games--and then tried to hog playing Tetris. It was amusing to say the least.

The next day Dan picked me up and we headed of to Toronto where much wondering took place as we had no idea what to do. I invested in a new tongue stud, which feels incredibly different…I didn't realise how heavy the steel tongue stud was. Also, Dan was nice enough to treat me to lunch--very appreciated on this end.

Following this was a dinner at my grandmother's, which was then followed by a trip to Hamilton to visit Duncan. We did a small pub-crawl, where somewhat heated discussions took place at each pub. I set things straight, and Duncan didn't like the fact that I was right on more than one issue--or that I made any kind of logical sense.

That night I was getting ready to sleep on his floor. Picture this: a wooden floor with three couch cushions resting lazily together. This is what I slept on. Duncan invited me to sleep in his bed, where the reasoning behind this offer could be one of two things: to pretend to be two lovers sleeping in close proximity of each other; or he was being nice because the floor was pretty uncomfortable. Seeing as I could sleep standing on my head, I put the floor in its place and fell asleep on it. Duncan also told me that he loved me before drifting off into a somewhat sombre, drunk-induced sleep. This put me in a cave where I had to carefully tip-toe out of. I treated the "I love you" as something someone would say to a really good friend--and I think it was the right way to go about it.

The next morning I awoke with a hammer doing its thing in my head. Nothing two Advils couldn't fix though. Anyways. Kicked it around his room before heading back home. On my walk home from the train station I noticed the following: trees turning colour; and a dog that walked an inch from the ground. THe former scared me--I'm still waiting for fucking summer--and the latter amused me.

On the way home I came up with some sort of story idea--I promised Duncan that I would join him in his quest to write a 50 thousand word story for that thingymado in November, and coming up with an idea seemed like a good place to start.

On another note, I've been smoking too much pot lately. I'm up to once or even twice a day. It's not that I smoke a lot; the amount smoked each time is pretty small. But still. I blame the extreme boredom I've been drowning in.

I've found the lack of sex has made me eat and masturbate more frequently--sometimes I'm touching myself three-times a day. True story. Probably too much information, but I don't care.

And now I'm just rambling so I'll just cut this entry he-

Verbal Masturbation: I like to touch myself

I cannot accurately tell you the exact date my dad passed away. All I remember is it happened in the 10th grade. I received a phone call sometime after school, and a young-sounding police officer asked for a James Rollo. After I told them that I was, in fact, James Rollo, the cop on the other end of the line threw a ton of bricks at me. Oddly enough the bricks had no weight. If anything, all they did was slightly skin away at the fact my father was no longer with me. Dumbfounded, I handed the phone over to my mom with out saying a word.

I sat down at the kitchen table while my mom got the details of what happened. Apparently the cause of death was a sudden heart attack. He was found in his favourite chair in his basement apartment. He didn't suffer.

My mom hugged me and told me it was okay to cry. No tears found there way into my eyes, though. Not then. Not yet. I just remember going to bed that night and having a struggle with the bricks that were still hovering over me… I even went to school the next day and didn't tell anyone.

My dad was as much a ghost now as when he was alive. I mean, after my parents divorced, I saw my dad every weekend. Then it became every other weekend. Then it was once a month. My mom would always say that he does love us (my brothers and I); he just didn't know how to show it. Sometimes when our father would take us out, the out usually consisted of going to a mall and hanging out there. The odd time he'd take us miniature golfing--and that was a gift sent from the heavens.

As I grew older more and more bricks were thrown my way. One of the reasons why my parents separated, I found out, was because my father was an alcoholic. This isn't something a son should know about his father. Regardless of this I still had oceans of respect for my father. He didn't really know how to show us he loved us, no, but it was the small things he did that sang the melodies. Every time my dad and I spoke on the phone, there would always be a pseudo-argument about who had to hang up first when we had to part ways on the phone lines. Usually we had a system: we took turns hanging up first. But, usually because of me and my hate for hanging up on him, I would protest and he would end up having to do the honours. Sometimes he'd pretend to hang up just so he didn't have to hang up on me, but I always caught this and there would be a long silence on the phone--neither of us saying anything, neither of us wanting to shut each other out for the remainder of the night.

What really kicks my nuts, though, is the fact that I haven't visited his grave since the day he was buried. I still don't think I've cried over the fact that he's gone. I had one cry with Patricia, who wrote me a wonderful letter, and that was about it. I fear that if I paid my respects to his grave, all the years I haven't cried will come out like Niagara Falls.

* * *

When I was young, I loved visiting family and friends of the family. I didn't know wrong could exist in a family and I thought everyone was perfect at the peak of my naivety. The visits would always seem too short and I would always ache to go back.

This is kind of how I felt today visiting my parents at the camp ground with my grandmother and Sheryl. It was nice to say the least.

In other news I'm growing more frustrated at things. Got to nip them in the bud, as some would say.

Also. Twelve days until I'm in Kingston.

I am the key to the lock in your house...

I should totally be in Peterborough right now kickin' it with Scott. Instead I'm just sitting around being bored out of my skull. Oh, and I'm updating.

God, that was fun.

But you know what isn't? Not being able to see your boyfriend for three weeks. (And not having sex for four weeks).

Fuck

I'm not able to see my boyfriend until the 26th. I can't even begin to describe what a blackhole of suck this is.

My brother is going to die.

I come home not only to find pot-ash all over my bed, but also to find the batteries in my mouse replaced with dead ones (I could tell by the brand of the batteries that my brother used). He denies everything of course. The day can't come soon enough where I can steal everything in his room and run away to Kingston.

This is what you'll get

I've never taken a bus high before, but I guess there's a first time for everything. Mind you I wasn't supposed to be high on the bus; it just sort of happened that way. How did this happen? Sit down and let me tell you a tale! Well, not so much an exciting tale as a long-winded story. *Ahem* Lauren, Allan and I made paid a visit to Toronto's first Cannabis Cafe in Kensington Market. Needless to say we got really high really fast, and lost track of time. The bus I had to catch was at 6 P.M., and we left the pot-palace at 5:40P.M. Yeah, we were rushed. We wouldn't have been rushed though if Cindy and her friends cooperated. Anyways, I made it onto my bus with 3-minutes to spare, or 3-minutes to come down from the high--which wasn't happening. Fun bus trip to the moon that was!

Oh, and everybody has to read Breakfast of Champions. Now. By far the greatest piece of literature I've read in a long time. I couldn't put it down and ended up finishing it a day. I loved it. To death.

Crushed

My favourite shirt in the whole wide world is officially ruined.

Rockstar Crush

Muse. One of the greatest performances I have ever seen. Period. End of book. End of trilogy. I extended my 15-minute break to 45- to 50-minutes just so I could experience every last miniscule note created by the band. Muse bent you over and fucked you explosively in the ass with their powerful music and left you begging for more. Crude analogy, yes, but it’s the best I can do. The songs they preformed consisted of Hysteria, Butterflies and Hurricanes and Stockholm Syndrome. Wow. Just…wow. I want more. They blew the audience, and me, away.

I first heard Mogwai during Curiosa, and I liked. A lot. Interpol also put on a great performance, along with The Rapture. The Cure, on the other hand, were somewhat disappointing. I don’t know how to explain it, but they just were. Methinks it was due to me not knowing what to expect. Oh well. The Cure played Numb, which was one of my favourite Cure songs, so that much was satisfying.

So, what did we learn? Muse stole the show.

WTF

Did you know Chapter's now carries manga?! I was so surprised when I found a table which had all sorts of the graphical novels. I was happy, too. Too bad I already bought some books before I found the sacred sanctuary, otherwise I would have totally purchased some. Yes, totally! Chapter's even carries some manga of the homo-erotic genre like Gravitation.

Man, crazy times at Chapter's let me tell you.

Let me give you everything you need

I can't believe how much walking took place in Toronto. Luckily I was with some good company, so it was well worth it. We went from Spadina to Church and everywhere in between. A lot of time was spent in book stores, where I ended up buying Trainspotting by Irving Welsh and Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. Remember how your parent’s would threaten to take away dessert if you didn’t finish the horrid, horrid vegetables on your plate when you were five? And how you reluctantly swallowed every remaining morsel of grossness that would make you dry-heave because you knew the deliciousness of whatever the dessert was would make up for it? And because, well, you wanted anything brimming with sugar so fucking badly? This is how badly I want to read the books I purchased…mind you I don’t have to eat anything that turns my face green before I start. I would read them now, but, alas, they're in queue; I have way too many other good books to finish...I <3 books...Anyways, some good food was also consumed--I had some sort of Thai food which was electrically exquisite.

After the huge excursion down town I ran to catch a train to the Molson Amphitheatre to make sure I made it to work on time. The Doors were was playing and I was very, very, very pessimistic with the absence of Jim Morrison and, well, the absence of everyone but one remaining member. Long story short, the concert blew. Tips, on the other hand, did not; they were quite plentiful. And I guess that's what it all boils down to.

And, finally, I’ve come to a conclusion. I want a piece of work I’ve created to be published at some point in my lifetime. This was brought about by Hollie, so blame her.

I am so smrt

I beat this mother fucker! Now to beat tontie...

Funny Story

Let me set the stage: I just finished smoking a small joint I rolled myself, and I had put Trainspotting on (I had just finished Porno and it made me want to watch the movie again). The volume was pretty loud, and I was pretty buzzed--in short I was having a good time.

All of a sudden I hear the door burst open. Next I hear "We're home". My blood ran cold. Was I hallucinating? Oh, please, for the love of god let me be hearing things. I start to sneak around the corner and my mother appears. I nearly jump out of my skin and my heart shoots to the back of my throat. My mom greets me and then sniffs the air...I was caught.

They were surprisingly cool about everything. I ended up talking to Hollie, and I asked her for coffee so I could just get out of my house while my parents were home. Fun times, really.

The next thing I know we're playing Frisbee with other friends, and ended smoking a small joint. I didn't have much; I had already smoked today. And, yeah, came home and that was my day.

Marijuana Marathon

Oh, god. I've eaten way too much raw cookie dough. My stomach is very close to splitting open and sharing my innards with the world. Most of the world will be all "Holy shit! That's a lot of cookie dough!" and the rest just won't care...I totally forgot the fact cookie dough expands in the oven. I'll just leave it at that.

Anyways, had a few friends over. Marc was very anxious to smoke. Played video games and watched Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas. I love that movie, and it's even better when you're high. I mean, things just sort of click, like it was the pot that put some bridges between scenes. Everyone then left except for Eric. We continued to smoke and played NHL Hits 2002. It was a very close fuckin' game, but I came out victorious. He, not so much, obviously. Battered and bruised is more like it.

And now i'm falling asleep. I just wish this stomach ach would kindly disappear.

Last Minute

Who knew three people watching someone play NHL Hits 2002 could be fun? Certainly not I.

Anyways, threw a last minute party. 'Twas fun. Veronica played the aforementioned video game the entire time--right up until 5 in the morning. The rest of us watched. And drank. And now I have several friends sleeping it off around the house.

Edit: Everyone has just left. But before this, Veronica went back to playing the game, again, all morning while the rest of us watched...again. Though she was nice enough to let some of us play...but wasn't happy when I played with Philadelphia and kicked her ass 16 - 0. This might be because she was Toronto, and she hates Philadelphia with such flying passion. True story. I like stories.

Pissed Off.

My brother. When he's not raiding my room, he's making the kind of mess in the house like a pig would do; leaves dirty dishes and empty beer bottles everywhere, fails to wipe anything he spills up, leaves his shit everywhere, and then he flees to his friend's cottage leaving me to clean his mess up. Actually, I'm probably giving pigs a bad name.

It's really the ravaging of my room that irks me; the mess I can deal with. My room is my sanctuary, a safe-haven away from all of my family, if you will--and I don't need it to be violated by anyone such as himself. So, in short, I’m going to retaliate by raping the fuck out of his room taking whatever I see fit. And then I’m going to piss on whatever remains…no I wouldn’t actually do that. Or would I? No. Stop looking at me like that! I'm still going to pee in the toilet!

Crazy, I know

Oh FUCK OFF!! I had a huge journal entry all ready to go and it disappeared after a fucking error message. I’m beyond pissed. Just, fuck. Well, here’s a much shorter (and lamer) recap of this weekend’s events.

1) Forgot Scott’s gift at home. I’m retarded, I know.
2) Scott told me some splendid news: We had the house to ourselves on Saturday before he had to go to work. Sexy results ensued.
3) Helped out at the Festival of Lights. Leah was in a cheerful mood, which was pleasant. After this we went a party. Highlights: Sonny, upon noticing my “Anarchy <3’s You” shirt, states that she’s anarchy because she loves me. Sonny rules. Speaking of people who rule, Gabe does as well. Hardcore. He’s coming down along for Scott next weekend.
4) Spilled the beans on Scott’s painting while we snuggled that night.
5) Snuck into his bed that morning where we snuggled. Then more really, really, really hott³ sex commenced. Two positions in one go. We at one point want to reach three, but, y’know.
6) More snuggling.
7) I avenged Scott’s discomfort by killing the bee that pseudo-stung him in the eye by killing it with the letter ‘L’.
8) Waited about three hours in the waiting room while Scott stood in line to get his eye looked at. Turned out everything was fine; his eye felt better and he left with out seeing a nurse. He had to sign a waiver form before leaving ‘cuz, apparently, he could have gone blind.
9) Saw the Village with Gabe and Ian. Twist was pretty lame. It was a mediocre movie in general.
10) Scott was tired when we returned home so he left me to my own devices. I read some Discovery magazines and read more of Porno.
11) Had a sexy shower with Scott.
12) Rented Six Feet Under, a show I’m now addicted too.
13) Scott’s mom took us out to dinner.
14) Rented Pumpkinhead. Don’t waste your vision.
15) More snuggling took place.
16) Dropped me off at the bus terminal the next morning.
17) Had a lot of time to kill before for my train, so I stopped off at Second Cup and read for over an hour. I really love Porno.
18) I’m home.

I swear to you I had a better account of events before my computer decided to fuck me in the ear.

Anyways.

I love it when Scott’s breath dances on my bare skin when we’re snuggling. I love it how my skin tingles when he’s pressed up against me, like two different puzzle pieces interlocking. I love it how he makes sure I’m okay and comfortable every step of the way when we’re having sex. I love it how when I sneak into bed with him his arms naturally wrap around me like he knew I was coming all along. I love it when his lips are eager to caress mine, and how they don’t want to stop. I love it when our tongues touch. I love the look in his eyes when we’re making love. I love the way he makes me laugh and the way he makes my heart race. I love everything about him. I’m drowning in this so called love, and it feels oh-so-good.

I can’t wait ‘til he comes down next weekend. We have some movies to watch and some sex to have.

One more month until I’m in Kingston. The nails that summer has been digging into the road are slowly wearing down, and this summer is finally starting to pick up speed. The fact that my parents are gone for three weeks helps. A lot.

I’m tired. But I’m off to read. Then sleep. Maybe.