Some Sort of Meaning.

Here's an interesting and enlightening conversation I had with my cousin online tonight:

cousin: i've seen people that have ur face, but i had to pay admission
LyRiCaLLyiLL 1: oh really, i thought you were part of the show..
cousin: ppl clap when they see you... but they clap their hands over their eyes
LyRiCaLLyiLL 1: ppl clap when they see you...but they clap their asscracks, you pervert molester guy
cousin: lol
LyRiCaLLyiLL 1: i'm putting this in my blog!
LyRiCaLLyiLL 1: you suck!
[a few minutes later]
LyRiCaLLyiLL 1: i hope you get zits

In other news...
Have you ever read a book, that was so good, that you both dreaded and anticipated the end of it...dreamt and pondered it? I'm on page 600-something in my book and I don't want it to end. Seriously dudes, this book=genius (minus some tedious and frankly, odd parts). I think maybe I want to write a novel. Call me crazy. I'm sure you've called me "Crazy" already, and probably added a "bastard" or "bitch" at the end. Who wants to be the Sam Clay to my Joe Kavalier? I need some ideas for a plot...interesting ones...to attach my words to....none of that romance-y Walk to Remember shit, because even though I kind of felt like crying (!) I don't want to write mushy shit. Real shit, folks. Real shit=good shit. Get it?