I live in Denver, Colorado and drink too much. The End.
I live in Denver, Colorado and drink too much. 
Okay. Screw Bill (oh wait, Sookie already has).
I desperately want Sookie and Eric to fuck. After that scene in the episode before last… mmm.
I am currently abstaining from sex until I can find a tall, attractive Swede like Alexander Skarsgard. *cough* That might be a while, I fear.
Eric: So uh… You’ve fucked pretty much everyone else on the show so far… When’s it gonna be my turn huh pretty boy?
Jason: Uh… Oh! Is that Sookie calling me? I think it is. Sorry Eric I’ll have to get back to you on that one… >__>
Also, should I be intensely bothered that my ex looks like a blonde replica of Bill Compton? It’s been five years, and now I’m tempted to call him…
Oh, the fucked up things that go through my head…
high-res photo*insert dreamy sigh here*
DAMN I love True Blood - worst acting EVER, best television show EVER.
I used to be young once. I still am young, but I certainly don’t feel that way when I look back at old photos.I hear you, but I bet you are just as sexy!
I wish. :-( Since then I’ve already started to grey and my hips keep expanding! Argggh, I hate being a woman. It’s all down-hill once you pass 20.
I used to be young once. I still am young, but I certainly don’t feel that way when I look back at old photos.
Dead poets are never at a loss of words, or so I was told by a former shadow of myself. Dead poets are all the same, I mumbled, looking down into my half-empty pint of Strongbow Cider. Dead poets are nothing but hopeless drunkards- lost souls always bitching about social maladies in the dark corners of smokey, old-man pubs. Or this is the conclusion I came across as I closely examined myself and saw my once young glory slip into the blackened grips of a miserable adulthood. I had become nothing but a dead poet. I had become nothing but a wretch of a writer. I had become nothing but nothing, and all I had left to stand on was my half pint and half a pouch of Golden Virginia rolling tobacco.
Dead poets are never at a loss of words - only a loss of themselves.
You seduced the seasons
As well as my reason
The reasoning that kept me bound to belief
That nothing beat Life, not even love.
