"Sorry, you got the wrong number."

A hooker took my phone. Seriously.

Anyway, so like...last week? Counts, Mindy, Ron, Sam, Antonio, Michael and I and that girl who's name I always forget are at Molotov's; and then Mary, Ben and Erin show up. Sweet. OH! Yeah, and there were mustaches involved.

Anyway, next thing you know there's this british kid making me melt with his fucking accent and lots and lots of PBR. And Whiskey. And then...wait...WHERE'D MY GHETTRO GO?

Fuck. So then I'm calling it with my Cinguloser, and nothing. Nothing.

Then, whenever my friends called me for the next week, there's some crack ho all like: "What? Who's Miranda? You've got the wrong number."

Fucking bitch.

Anyway, so I finally had time to go get my phone replaced, and all these fucking John's keep calling me all like: "Where's Gabby? Is she working tonight?" and all kinds of other assorted bullshit.

Anyway, point being, I finally got Nicholas Mathisen over to my house. Sweet.


1 comment:

~PhoenixRising said...

I hate it when crack hos gank my phone... ;)
Though now I'm all paranoid now that I know you track how many times people visit your blog. I'm going to have to cur down on my visitations....