rachel's brother. post.

After an hour and a half of screaming at the top of my lungs on the way from san jose, i've made it to the big city.
what is wrong with this place?

The first person i met other than the crazy roommates and pseudo-roommates was the neighbor, brad. or bret. or bearded nut. The point is he apparently has several women in hanging cages in his house which was blasting rap music for the last million years. This, of course, was only a fantasy meant to entice me into going over to his house to "party".

Before this, i've spent my time getting better acquainted with the couch that will be my bed. It's nice and comfy, so i guess everything will be alright. all i really need is a nice comfy couch and some mind-numbing ninja warz.

My arms hurt. Ice doesn't help.

wait.

fudge helps. Too bad i'm not motivated enough to get any, and rachel is the worst sister in the world for not getting me any. go get me some fudge. please? dammit.
Currently, we are discussing the subject of virtual arms. How else would you play a bass and a guitar at the same time?
They're stealing my couch. what will i do without it? there's a mattress. Its not the same.
I wonder how brian is doing in his crazy house with crazy ladies......probably nothing.