And the Worst Thing is That He Can’t Stop Talking About the Fuckin’ Beatles

There’s a guy from Liverpool in our apartment at the moment whom we haven’t seen in six years. (Yeah, we’re just as mystified as you are.) Between this and the planned Memorial Day debauchery, what this means is few, if any, updates until June 1.

2 Comments

  1. Hey now … and what, pray tell, is the matter with that? Send him my way – I’ll tell him about the TWO times I met Paul McCartney.

    Remember: and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. Dude.

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