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Post by Noah Coulson on Jan 10, 2013 18:29:31 GMT -6
Noah Coulson sent you a message: Well if the likelihood is that I'm going to break them anyway I might as well not waste any time/effort considering the specifics! Good knowledge of Jewish festivals, my friend, but yeah it's like seven months away, I should have made some kind of progress by then, surely...
Though you don't have some kind of professional qualification, I value your advice/opinions a lot more, Robbins, and you do speak sense. That's settled, I'm finally making my Dad happy by learning his instrument of choice and you can so come jam with me in the garage. Our piano-drum outfit will be taking the world by storm come Rosh Hashanah. ;)
Idk either... that's the main issue here :/ It's like I really miss her and her company but it feels super awkward now every time we see each other. I don't really see how we're ever gonna get back to friends if it feels this bad inside now... but I'm nothing if not great at hiding my feelings so woop I can finally put my emotionally stunted-ness to good use. I do really miss her.
Only a heathen wouldn't want that as their greeting. I was mostly shooting for S America because I have a grasp of the lingo but pff stuff putting my Spanish to better use than being the only one who can understand my aunt gushing over men when we're out somewhere together, I want to live in the country that brought the fucking Ringwraiths to the big screen! :)
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Post by Samantha Robbins on Jan 11, 2013 17:45:32 GMT -6
Sam Robbins sent you a message: Lol, ask Rhys for lessons. (j/k that's a terrible idea.) What if we rock just a little too hard for the High Holy Days?!
But omg, how did I manage to trick everyone into thinking I'm wise and mature and give good advice?! I promise you I don't know what I'm doing either. But I can't help myself here, so okay, if I were you I'd set some ground rules for myself. Like, be cool and friendly and casual! No drunk texting. Or texting after midnight, probably. The last thing you two need is painful, tedious emotional processing (trust me, I'm a lesbian, we invented processing). And I promise you, this isn't the end of the world. There were girls in my past I would have moved mountains for at the time, but it wasn't meant to be. Live and learn etc. etc.
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Post by Noah Coulson on Jan 11, 2013 18:06:02 GMT -6
Noah Coulson sent you a message: Oh no, it’s cool, I asked my rabbi and he was like ‘Noah, you can never rock too hard for the High Holy Days’ so we have special permission. Sam, you give advice that doesn’t consist of ‘just get over it and fuck someone, anyone will do, here how about this girl-’ so from where I’m standing, your advice is superb. You know you suggested setting ground rules? Awesome advice, really, and in theory I did… but… *sigh* you just have to read it to believe it so here goes… You know you mentioned that drunk texting thing as a big no no? And the whole ‘don’t text after midnight’ advice? Um. I drunk messaged… after midnight. You know when you wish you had an ‘unsend’ button? Now. Right now. Robbins, shit, what do I do?! I won’t subject you to the whole messages but just so you can see why I’m freaking out, here is an excerpt of the perfectly polite and emotionally stable message I sent Case at 8:46pm: "I didn't exactly handle things very well and I'm really sorry I was a bit of a complete douche to you and Doug that night we played O'Connor's. Please say sorry to him from me. […] I think we can be friends, of course we can and I'd like that if you want to... and if Doug doesn't mind you hanging out with an (arguably somewhat psychotic) ex. :P" See, I even made an attempt at a joke, the :P face certainly came out. And then here is a lovely choice excerpt of the message I then sent at 1:05am after coming back from the pub with the guys: “I wish I'd never ended it between us. [...] you deserve a guy that doesn't freak out and want out, only to realise later that that warm, comforting feeling inside that disappeared when you did was actually something akin to this 'crazy little thing called love' (thanks Freddie). […] Hanging out with you as friends would be the best and worst thing possible […] I can't change how I feel about you. […] So, if I haven't put you off forever then I would still like to hang out, yes. Yes, please.” I mean, who wouldn’t be put off by that message?! I’m currently researching flights to NZ. Want to come over and help? If it entices you at all, I have beer and pizza as company.
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Post by Samantha Robbins on Jan 11, 2013 22:07:44 GMT -6
Sam Robbins sent you a message: Oh, my sweet summer child. Well, operating under the assumption that those ellipses don't contain five extra pages of sonnets and references to stroking a lock of her hair before bed at night, you're probably not yet in psycho ex-boyfriend territory! But since you tend to be pretty taciturn about this stuff I imagine it's a... well, it's a lot to take in at once or have an answer to, which is probably why you haven't heard back yet. Just, you know, maybe don't get drunk again and send more messages. Because that will make you look full-blown crazytown bananapants. Anyway, don't move. I'm coming over right now for beer and pizza. On the bright side, at least you didn't pull an Elliot!
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Post by Mason Mitchell on Aug 19, 2013 12:07:42 GMT -6
Mason Mitchell wrote on your wall: Thanks to your massive (and fecking awesome by the way) birthday party yesterday I am now celebrating my own birthday with a raging hangover that won't quit. I hope you're happy.
Only possible solution to this - hair of the dog. Round up some of our better mates and meet me at The Three Broomsticks at say 8 - what say you?
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Post by Samantha Robbins on Aug 19, 2013 15:54:55 GMT -6
Sam Robbins wrote on her wall: Ummmm that's totally your fault for being born a day too late. You probably wasted time lounging around in the womb. Smoking a cigarette, somehow.
HEY LISTEN UP, MINE AND MASON'S BETTER MATES!!! COME TO THE THREE BROOMSTICKS AT 8 OR I'LL SIC MY DRAGONS ON YOU!!!!
Good?
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Post by Mason Mitchell on Aug 19, 2013 16:29:13 GMT -6
Mason Mitchell wrote on your wall: Well I am told I was overdue and wasn't particularly thrilled to be ripped from the womb so unceremoniously by doctors; I didn't have time to finish my pint, you see. Rude.
Now this is why you're my favourite, Robbins. And with that you've almost made up for all that Jägermeister you insisted I drank last night.
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