So the thing is–it just used be, okay so what did I do last night? Now, it’s the oh shit, did I post something–
‘all I remember is a phone call/
hey ya’ll why is my bed
not in my room
how did my face
get black and blue?’
-musta had a good time
Yea, well. At least I remember the breathers, like sitting in the doorway, listening to Blondie when the Portland PD passed by, a few times. I mean you couldn’t tell my bra was in my pocket, could ya?