Referencing a previous post, in which I inadvertently received a text booty call from a 901 area code number, here's what I discovered about this frustrated texter:
1) avid sushi lover. goes to sekisui for sushi.
2) under 21. can't get into fox and hound (sports bar).
3) we have mutual friends named blake and caroline, and we all go to florida together to hang out on weekends.
here's the fictional elements I made up for, uh, whoever the hell i'm supposed to be
1) i have a pool
2) i got a fake ID, which is why I could get into a fox and hound, even though I'm under 21
3) i have a friend in town named melissa who I'm taking around to have a good time.
4) i'm considering traveling to new york in a couple of weeks
Incidentally, it's quite clear I should take up fiction writer as my weekend occupation. It's not a vivid imagination as much as my propensity for lying for no good reason. Make that, no reason at all. I'm not talking about just, bending the truth or BSing, I'm talking about spewing out a veritable litany of total horse shit. Yes, I realize I've created a hierarchy of excrement. I'm actually, very OK with it.
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