I have bad ideas on sad days

BAD IDEA NUMBER ONE

So first, let me recab you on recent events.

My secret admirer note that I wrote about last time was not very secret.

He thanked me for the note.

According to a witness, my response was precisely "Errggeehaa".

The poor boy fled up eleven flights of stairs to avoid me.

THEN

I pondered my response and decided there are no more fucks to give.

I delivered the note pictured above under this poor boy's door,

along with:

crayons,

a coloring sheet,

and a magazine rip-out of a lady next to donkeys and/or donkies.

Response to this note is still unknown.

In other news:

I was conviced to play Puck in Scene One of A Midsummer's Dream.

I am really hoping I will be able to post the video of this later.

AND

I killed 8 balloons with my teeth and scissors,

have no fucks left to give,

painted my face and body in appreciation of Death Cab for Cutie,

turned a pipette that I broke and melted into a cool shape into my new tea filter,

played with the highway cones,

ate tea on accident,

and created videos and photo documentation.

These will arrive soon.

AFTERMATH

Moral of the story: