The Rebirth of Textual Narcissism
Ask me about inconsequential shit.
Ask me about inconsequential shit.
Me: Dude, the sun is up. How are you still awake?
Chelsea: INSOMNIA! [she climbs into bed]
Me: You realize that as you’re going to bed I am waking up for the day, you maniac.
Chelsea: [yawns] Good night!
I walk into the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of cereal. I notice in the sink there are some watercolor brushes and a plate caked with paint.
I scramble around the apartment looking for her masterpiece.
Here it is:
