things

I'm Trash

So. I was talking to one of my peoples today about mah Bulletproof Boyscoutz and all that shit, and she started randomly interrogating me on things. Ya know, who's your bias, this, that, which one would you frickle frackle with (wow nice choice of language Emma you're so smart and witty and intelligent. Shut up Emma you're so clingy.) And it somehow morphed into basic shit (more basic than basic white hoes) such as "favorite color" and all them ass wipe topics no one really gives a shit about. So then she goes, "do you have a lucky number." And I'm all like "bitch yeah I do" and she's all like "bitch what the hell is it" and I'm all like "bitch it's 29" and she's like "bish whet" and I'm all like "bro it's Bangtan's lucky numbers all added together duh."

She hung up for a second or five or 240 (4Minute dude), sent me a picture of a trash can, told me to throw myself in it and then proceeded to call me back as if nothing ever happened.

My family sucks but, damn. My friends kick ass.

At least they would.

If I have any.

But I don't.

So.

Oops.

LololololOLIVES ABCDEFG HAKUNA MATATA PARDON EXCUSE ME OH MAN HOLY SHIT (DAMN EMMA DEM BANGTAN REFERENCEZ BITCH YO ON A ROLL) the only reason I'm updating this Book of Trash is because I need to edit (more like completely f*cking rewrite) Broken and Converse Kisses (cuz dem bitches be jamless and jelly af. Although that's kind of impossible. I mean, you can't be jelly if ya don't got jams), but I really wanna publish the sequel soon so I have to get my ass working on that shit. Not like I've got anything else to do with my life anyway. :p

I have a really sad existence.

Here instead of an actual update have this. Don't ask what it is, because I don't know. But feel free to re-gift it.

To the garbage can.

Damn I'm so nice to myself :3