Define ‘friend’


Well, today during my daily “why am I so much less employable than everyone I know?” pity party, I went to double check my FB privacy settings. And discovered that you could prevent CERTAIN people from seeing your photos. And, as you can see, when you request this electronic toddlerfacepush, FB wants to know your “friend’s” name.

What a world, what a world…

6 thoughts on “Define ‘friend’

  1. Anonymous

    With no real purpose I was walking across foss hill on saturday. At the steps of that building next to admissions was a pretty girl reading a book. My eyesight is nowhere near what is used to be, but that book must have been pretty damn good. The sight made my random walk pleasant, its usually best to accept the beautiful things in life.Apparently my legs weren’t really digging my going up the wicked path. It felt weird. One hand holding the twenty, the other fumbling with a lighter. I realized that I could never be as artsy as the people on the hill, but I was pretty tempted to borrow a bowl. From my fingertips to my lips, I wish the kid who sells me ope from his longboard was there.I kept walking by them taking a seat on the ledge, my phone laid out waiting for a call. I wrote that girl that I fuck from time to time, California sounds nice. Thirty minutes went by staring at a tree, it was larger then life. Or mine at least. It’s nice to know that someone in wesco plays guitar to amuse themselves, and also has two friends who seem to be everywhere and coming from all angles. After I realized there weren’t anymore conversations to listen to, I gave in to hunger and went to the deli.

  2. Anonymous

    With no real purpose I was walking across foss hill on saturday. At the steps of that building next to admissions was a pretty girl reading a book. My eyesight is nowhere near what is used to be, but that book must have been pretty damn good. The sight made my random walk pleasant, its usually best to accept the beautiful things in life.

    Apparently my legs weren’t really digging my going up the wicked path. It felt weird. One hand holding the twenty, the other fumbling with a lighter. I realized that I could never be as artsy as the people on the hill, but I was pretty tempted to borrow a bowl. From my fingertips to my lips, I wish the kid who sells me ope from his longboard was there.

    I kept walking by them taking a seat on the ledge, my phone laid out waiting for a call. I wrote that girl that I fuck from time to time, California sounds nice. Thirty minutes went by staring at a tree, it was larger then life. Or mine at least.
    It’s nice to know that someone in wesco plays guitar to amuse themselves, and also has two friends who seem to be everywhere and coming from all angles. After I realized there weren’t anymore conversations to listen to, I gave in to hunger and went to the deli.

Comments are closed.