So I was just playing with my cat a few minutes ago when suddenly I heard fire alarms downstairs.
Sounds like Fatty McLardass is failing to properly use her oven/stove for the 500th time this year. How fucking hard is it to watch your food? She seems like she'd be really good at that kind of thing. Not only is she stupid, but she's loud as hell and I can smell her cigarettes in my bathroom. I wish she'd just move out (and take her ugly-ass boyfriend with her).
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You and I,
We were born to die.
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