When it hits the print its finished. When the facades are gone its done. When I get transparent beware because I've officially just lost one. If we started out with twenty points a piece...you lost all of them when that chick called my house. Your score: 0, my score: 20. Situations occur and past things sometimes surface in the present...cool. The way I handled it: a perfect 29.

I wish we could just cut the bullshit...I could tell you how much of a breath of fresh air you are for me and you can stop wavering between natural attraction and flawed logic. No, I don't know what it is...nor am I trying to make it anything. It just is...without rhyme or reason. Whatever "it" is...lets wait it out.

My score: 49
Your score:25