Clair, yet again, burns me. It’s either hard-to-get or she actually hates my guts. Note the scruff on my chin. It’s Markee’s birthday so I’m not shaving for a week because she is having a “Beatnik-themed” party. I need to go buy some cigarettes and a barrett–what kind fellas? Rasberry.

I may only put up with this, like, 3 or 4 more times! Pretty girls make me weak in the knees.

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