It is 330 am and I can’t sleep, mostly because I’d spent most of the day in some sort of an extended snooze.
Which explains why I am Whatsapp-ing Angie nonsense while clicking around on YouTube.
[On Knowing John Lennon] (via Whatsapp)
Me: My next boyfriend must love The Beatles. He can’t tell me shit like how he doesn’t know who Sgt. Pepper is.
A: Or ask you who John Lennon is.
Me: Fuck. I’ll slap him there and then if he ask me that. And maybe kick him in the balls if I’m in a bad mood.
Sometimes, I think I’m mad. In a fabulous way. Whee.