Whathisface, Ramit and my hippy hair (which as you can see if finally getting long enough to start naturally feathering on the sides. Suh-weet. In a few more weeks I'll be able to start wearing those mint Jordache jeans that look so fucking dope with the brush in the back pocket).
And there was even a surprise visit from our good friend...shit, what's this guy's name again? I can't even remember. Seriously, if you read this David Forman, you're a dick. A big, not-returning-my-phone-calls dick. Last time this kid talked to me was to ask me to help him with his video Valentine's Day gift...which I spent like five hours on. Haven't heard a peep from him since. Dick, dick, dick. Holy Jesus Marymotherofgod,
what a dick. (I still love you, though. So for fuck's sake call
me if you see this, shitcock. Ok?)
So there's an ironing board resting on top of a 2 foot pile of snow and in the most obvious set-up ever (I mean, like one not even your slow, eight year old cousin would fall for), David goes to Grant, "Hey, I bet you can't surf on that ironing board." As soon as Grant stands on it, David pushes him into the snow.
