She Thinks The Grow-Up Boat Missed Her, or, Writing For Julie

Please note that anything in plain text is straight out of Julie’s mouth. People seem to be reading it, getting it backwards. The whole point is that I’m documenting her voice. Quotations are Autumn May’s words.

Ah, God. *Laughs*

I’m laying on Autumn’s bed as she types.

Just got back from the hotel – can still smell the chlorine in my nose. Spent the night babysitting 3 underage boys at the local hotel. Oh God, I don’t know. Um. I find myself incredibly jealous over the cute Furby residing on Autumn’s computer, as my Furby at home doesn’t even know I exist. It’s not fair.

I’m 26 years old. I have tattoos. And I want a fucking Furby. I’m lame.

Strange creepy men staring at us through the poolroom window, that’s always fun. Found a new game to play in the pool where you hook your feet over the ledge and lean backwards for a rush underwater. Not quite a 100mph rush, but still.

Ended up chasing some freaky girl from the boys’ room, “No, she goes. Out”. Such boys.

Still trying to figure out what I’m going to do with today.

Autumn’s voice is heard in the forefront, “What am I going to do with you, Today? SHITCAN YOU?!?!!!

One week till Boston…Matt’s in Florida.

An addition to my Birthday Wishlist: FURBY.

Julie snickers because her typist says, “That’s great, I love how you keep Furby in focus like that”, nearly bumping the sceen with her nose.

I’m still trying to figure out what in the fuck to do with my day.

“Wait. Did you say ‘what IN the fuck’ or ‘What the fuck’“?

Doesn’t Matter.

“I say we mall it.”

I’m cool with that.


8 responses to “She Thinks The Grow-Up Boat Missed Her, or, Writing For Julie

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