Can It Be A Really, Really Big Taco?

Greetings and Salutations,
There's an orange post-it note on the door that says "I.O.U. one taco." I love it here. So, Milk's brother, let's call him Butter, the infamous post-it note leaver, sent Milk a text message today that read "Dude I just took a nap on the couch in the student center and woke up with really obvious morning wood during the lunch rush."
We've been watching a documentary tonight from Netflix, 7 Up. I keep calling it Heads Up Seven Up. I totally cheated at that game my entire career as a fourth grader. VERY EASY TO DO. Just place folded arms forward on desk, position head conspicuously off the desk, focus on the floor, spot the shoes of your attacker, and call out spotted shoe attacker when the game's over. I killed. I completely forgot where I was headed with this. Right, the documentary. They took a bunch of British kids when they were seven and have been checking up on them every seven years. This is just the first edition, so it's age seven and fourteen. Anyway, their aim was to finish the entire documentary in 2000, with all of the kids being in their late forties.
We're heading back to Milk's family's house tomorrow night. A very small town: Munford. It sounds welcoming, doesn't it? Then Sunday we visit my family in good old Hokes Bluff. Eh... At least Doctor Who comes on tomorrow night.


Sincerely.

The Horror!

Donner Party, Party of Four.

Greetings and Salutations,
It is now 5:35am. I'm doing good, considering I died thirty minutes ago. I'm so tired. Should I go ask for scrabble zombie again?
I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday, we will call her Minx, about boyfriend things. I told her he lets me shave him some. Minx was surprisingly blown away by this, coming from a woman who knows and understands just about everything in the known universe. She said that's a major trust issue with most guys. I suppose it's just hard to donate your facial flesh to a razor happy crazy person. I take comfort in the fact that Milk could possibly be terrified under my hand when this happens; therefore he's trusting me fully. That's brilliant.
5:41am. Growing weak. Needing to feed. Samuel looks weaker. I wonder how he would taste over Jane.
We recently and finally got curtains in our room. Brown shiny curtains. Don't get the wrong impression when I say shiny. They are probably part of the reason my sleeping pattern has been screwed up. I close the curtains and ta-da! It's nighttime at 3pm. And then I sleep for four hours. Very, very wrong.
5:44am. Jane was greasier than I predicted. I washed her down with some Samuel though.
Yeah, I'm going to go see what Milk's up to.
5:45am. I'm being eaten by Blake. I did not see this coming at all.

Sincerely.

Everlasting Blunder

The world is made of ifs and buts
A gentle mold of regrets and woes
For thy creator’s hands are one to fold
His worn tools to build His fool


Coveting such imperfection, always room for fault
Why then is He to fear, why no answers still?
Subject your being, subject your mentality
For I am only mortal, keen minds still gamble to fall


When and how, when and how will it be?
Time takes time, just a confusion of plea
Perhaps thou shalt not question, not even a wonder
Perhaps thou shalt live in everlasting blunder

Turning Brown With Hate

Green Apple, green apple

Shouldn’t you be ripe?

You’ve sat here for days

Only waiting to thrive

Green Apple, green apple

Won’t you let me bite?

You haven’t grown at all

Hardly living your life

Green Apple, green apple

Aren’t you afraid of fate?

Splinters

Sometimes I picture myself a painting

Sensibly

Just the frame

Something to hold the idea in its place

A prison cell

So I think

Somehow it all works out in the canvas

For the artist

And the oil

Somewhere I’m knocking myself off the wall

Shed that color

Be myself

Someone wants to be ideal standing alone

And the rub is

I cannot

Giant Eucalyptus Monsters

Greetings and Salutations,
I've been going through bouts of insomnia that have severely tortured my poor boyfriend, we shall call him Milk, up a wall and a half. Every night it's the same pattern: go to sleep around 10:00pm, wake up at 10:15pm, stay up with Milk till he gets sleepy, get desperate and ask him to play scrabble and/or watch a random zombie movie, him give up on me and snore, sit on the computer for four hours, crawl back into bed at 3:35am, wake Milk up, ask him to play scrabble and/or watch a random zombie movie, cuddle, try to wake him up in other ways extending from the use of cuddling, him give up on me and snore, get back on the computer, be attacked by giant apocalyptic monsters (see, by this point you have completely given up interest of my sleep pattern (I wouldn't even call it a "sleep" pattern) is it okay to have multiple parenthesis within parenthesis?) and question marks?) you are a sad, sad human being).
So we recently celebrated a sappy anniversary thing where we went out for sushi, Ninja Warrior, and later Doctor Who. Also, Milk got me an mp3 player, the Zen Stone. It is a very rad creature. I call it my rock. I'm listening to it now. To Dave Matthews. My brother's a huge Dave fan. My brother's also a huge hippie, that does actually take showers. He's working for an environmental agency right now where he's on call basically all the time for busted meth labs (I typed busted meth laps and giggled a bit). His crew actually goes to these labs and cleans up any environmental hazard (which is pretty much everything in a meth lab). I find that pretty amazing. Daniel's a good big brother.
It is now 5:04am, tired, ready to give up on my plan to defeat insomnia (to stay up the entire night, get an early start, go to school, look for a new job, keep myself awake all day, and finally crash early in the night and hopefully sleep thoroughly). Must...Stay...Awake...
Ooh, Elton John's Your Song came on. Pretty.

Sincerely.