the worst.

Dear marc,
I’m sitting at a bus stop listening to a cover of ‘forever young’ and getting SENTIMENTAL. I had to leave the bar because I’m tired/old/drunk/hungry/OLD, which is the saddest thing I’ve ever admitted in public.

help a bitch, srsly. 

And of course the bus is 20 minutes late. I WANT TO EAT THE CHOCOLATE MY MOM SENT ME. Happy easter, you cunt.

drunken plea/mardi gras/i’m SO SORRY

dear marc,

i’m so sorry that i’ve been the WORST pen pal (actually, YOU are the worst pen pal because you NEVER WRITE ME BACK. but who’s counting?), but i’ve been busy MOVING BACK INTO MY PARENTS’ HOUSE FOR TWO WEEKS BEFORE I MOVE TO SEATTLE, and going to mardi gras in st. louis, which, if you didn’t know, is the second largest mardi gras celebration IN THE WORLD.  don’t worry, i thought about you the entire time i was there.  everywhere i went i had people sign this petition:

i’m sorry, i lied; i totally MEANT to have people sign that petition but i was too busy drinking keg beer and screaming things like, ‘YOU’RE A FAGGOT,’ ‘that’s FAGGOTRONICS,’ and ‘WHO MADE YOU QUEEN OF THE PORT-O-POTTIES? NOT US, AND WE’RE FIFTY PERFECT OF THE VOTE.’ i’m such a stinker! oh, and i was wearing this little bit-o-memories the whole time:

cute!

anyway, i hope you’re doing well. i’m tits-deep in SHIT at my parents’ place because i don’t throw anything away? ever? HOARDER. report me, it’s fine.  i miss you!

xox

drunken plea of the (last) week

an english translation, in case you don’t speak sad, drunk homo (but why wouldn’t you, marc? we’ve all been there.):

Dear Marc,

I just told someone who is diabetic that they’re bulimic.  I’m sorry.

It’s so late and people are talking about babies and this pen is wet and THIS PEN IS SOAKING WET and oh my Ghod, it’s so hot in here and I just want my pizza but i swear Katie is hoarding it. Marc, I love my friends but I have to get out of here.

It’s so hot. We went to a party and I was the only one dressed as a boy. Marc, hire me so I can go to parties where I’m the pretty one. Hire me so if I’m not the pretty one, at least I’m the funny one; or at least the original one. There’s pizza here now. The second piece isn’t as big as the first, which is disappointing.

I love you,

Matt