[ the lady lamb ]

Subject:	[01] Most wanted. (It's not me I'm talking about.)
Time:	1:07 pm.
Mood:	creative.
Music:	Freak Me Out x Wheezer.

The Wii seems to have significantly greater amounts of promise than I originally gave it credit for (though I still find the name inordinatly funny)--I've got to say that greatestjournal officially loses as any originality goes but OH DEAR GOD THE AMOUNT OF ICON SPACE I'M DYING. ~~Check the Itachi icons THEY SPARKLE. (Tekla, you're a goddess.)~~ I'm logged in for the third time and I've already used 40 of my 2000 available icon spaces. This kicks ass. (Like my hair. Seriously. I like it more every second of the day.)

We're playing Need For Speed: Most Wanted which I like way too much because BY GOD THE CARS ARE SO PRETTY HEAR THAT BABY ENGINE PURRRRR. (I would totally street race if I were to ever learn to drive. Oooooohhhh, gimme a Ferrari baby, LET'S BURN SOME GODDAMN RUBBERRRRR. I have a car fetish, lemme alone.) I don't have much to do except sit here and giggle about the fact that the cops can't catch us, so I'm fretting about Morgan. I've been trying not to but my throat's all tight and my stomach's bothering me and I've got this monster headache because I worry that she's calling and I'm not picking up, and I could just-

Ugh. Goddamn you cheap cell phone.

Morgan, I've got internet today so hit me up with comments if you're around.

I'm really seriously very worried about you. It'd ease my mind just to hear...anything. Even if you're pissed. Anything is better than nothing. /.__.\

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Subject:	[00] Test.
Time:	12:05 am.
Mood:	tired.
Music:	Erynn Smith x The Matches.

Test.

Test.

Test.

Test.

Test.

Layout = crap but OMIGOD ICONS YAY.

Morgan, I hope you're okay. I'm really worried about you.

...myhairlooksprettyfrigginawesome.

HAYLEY IS WHEEEEE SAY HI EVERYONE.

(This isn't a real entry. Promise.)

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