1 Different Bathroom. Same Shame.
I looked at the merrier hating the reflection that it gave off. To much red-eye and blocky skin. No matter how much I try, I can't seem to wash it clean. The only thing I can do is rinse out the horrid taste of puke. You would think that after Arnold's stern preaching I'd stop drinking. And believe me, I wanted to. But so many factors were stacked against me. Like the idea of that stupid dinner. If Arnold has any sense in him he would never suggested it. Instead he's waiting outside the bathroom door so we can have another talk. God, I hate those.