things i shouldn't laugh at at 20 years old:

that armpit-fart noise you get when you're both all sweatied up during sex; wheely-chairing across the lab because i can't be arsed to get up and walk; the lives of the local overprivileged emo children; the horrified facial contortions of the Jehovah's Witnesses i wave at when i see them coming out of their Kingdom Hall every so often on my way to work; toddlers' mothers whoe frantic attempts to silence their children as said wormbabies point at my junkie ass (asking loudly why that man has things drawn on his face like Captain Jack) are utterly useless; the fact that my flatmates bought my pet gimp a dog bed that says "good boy" and has pictures of happy bone-clutching yellow labradors on.

i'll be 21 in nine days. doesn't seem like it's gonna bring much maturity with it, no?


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[pls no ask about the vodka. debate is always welcome. remember, Tramadol fucks you up]