RARGH.

AGH! Pick up the phone, mom!! I finally got the balls to call her about my tattoos, and somebody (*cough* Doug) is on the fucking internet!! Cajones don't grow on trees, damnit!

Plan of Attack: "Hi mom! Thanks for the package, yeah I got it today. Cute pants! Yeah, I think they'll fit fine. Cute pink flip flops, too. You're so great. Haha, a $7 dollar state tax refund... yeah, big reward, definitely will pad my pockets, har har. How's JD? How's the play? Will you be glad when it's over? Yeah, Vegas, I can't wait! Work? Doug? Grandma and Grandpa? Oh, school is great... yeah, yeah. Um, so there was something I wanted to bring up to you. You know how me and Dad went to that convention a while back? Well, I've been thinking of some designs I like and drawing some stuff up and doing some research... and I've been talking to Dad about all of it and I think that I'm going to be getting two little pink and black swallows tattooed on my chest. (insert lots of defensive argument here). Oh yeah? I'm ex-communicated, huh? Well, nice having you for a mom. See ya. Peace."

Okay, here I go again... ::dials::

oh?

Quizzes bother people, I know.

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