Hey Boo

So it seems obvious that you're not up to talking on the phone.

There are many things I can say to make you feel guilty about that, but you're a fellow Libra ... what's the point in trying to fuck a fucker?

You're shit at texting.  Which means you're actually pretty perfect at it.

I mean that as a compliment, please.

Minnesota is bat shit, dude.

I went to a Virtus training this past weekend.  If you don't know what that is look up "Please don't touch the children," and cross reference "Watch those priests like a hawk."  During the training itself two different people had to call attention to "race not being a factor" in reporting abuse.  Bring that point home, bae.  

I have two full weeks worth of clothing and it is fucking torturing me!

The same outfit has made the rounds three times.  What is my life?

The other girl who lives here is the most virginy virgin I've ever met, seen, read about, or stared at at a restaurant.  Be advised, I'm not saying being a virgin is bad, for sure.

Being a virgin is fine and just is.  But acting like a virgin and making other people feel uncomfortable because your hymen might tear at their impure jokes, well that's a lot more than anyone should have to take.

Enough negativity!

HIghlights:

I saw lightning bugs for the first time! - I probably told you that one already eh?

I'm administering medications to teenagers every day!

I have super sweet housemate named James.  He's gay and has a crush on another one of our housemates, named Mike.  His affection manifests as bitchiness.  Swoon!

Mexicans here ... they don't brush their hair?

They also keep to themselves.  Everyone does actually.

I feel very much like a huge fish in a tiny puddle.

Tell me about Los Angeles please.

The good, the bad, the everything.  

I know what's going on with all that, so don't think you can hurt me, boo; I'm not gonna break.

I love you.

Your friendship means so much more than I ever thought it could.

You're a good one, and I'm stoked to know you.