I have 19066 days left on this earth before I am mercifully swallowed by death, according to a reputable source. The method? FRINAN kills me for correcting his grammar one too many times? Rocking out a little too hard to "Welcome to the Jungle" and driving my car into a tree? No: cancer. How lame is that? And how predictable!
If you're still around in February 2059, when I die, I want you to remember this for my funeral: do whatever you want. I'll be dead. Why would I give a damn?
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
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