Shock Shock Horror Horror.

Was standing on my bed winding Halloween lights around the window sill and sticking glittery glow-in-the-dark sheep and stars on the wall the other night (incompetently, I might add). Turned around and took a few steps back to reach for my booze. Felt a breeze and looked up. Oh yeah, the ceiling fan.

That's just how I want things to end. I want the landlord to find me decapitated in the bedroom when she comes to find out why she never got her rent check. Severed head in a pool of Mike's Hard Lemonade. That wouldn't be till sometime in September either, so it would be pretty gnar by then.

Now I can't stop thinking about my near death experience and I wake up with plastic sheep stuck in my hair more often than I would like.