In an hour and a half I will have lose consciousness and there will be people in funny costumes standing over my face, pulling out teeth that my body wanted to grow. It didn’t grow them to cause me pain, but to help me out—assuming that I’d have lost a tooth by now, and could use an extra one. This is my punishment for having good teeth.
Goodbye wisdom.
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So if you haven’t heard yet, two days ago somebody stole all of money for the Moped Army belt buckles out of Dan’s room in his house. In the mean time I’ve already paid for the whole belt buckle order on my credit card.
I supposed there might be some sort of fund raising event, or people could pay for the belt buckles again—but I don’t like either of those ideas too much. Best solution: send us back the money. Yeah, thief—I’m talking to you.
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Two nights ago at The Space:
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