So, in a preconceived awful drawn out moment of over-it-ness, I decided that the act depicted in the attached photo was a feasible end to my chemical romance. I regret this haste, as I sure would like to have the moto to like clean my car or like call my mom, or shit just leave the crib. But this stuff is totes screwing me up. Subzero personality cold fingers and frivolous spending be damned. I mean I guess I mean shucks where I'm gonna get my pep from now yo.