Life in a Truck Stop Hostel

It's gone rain, and music plays from the mountain. I think we're part of season three of LOST. We have a Desmond but his name is Destin...we call him Desatin (like the baby rash creme). There is a Korean girl with a thick afro. I keep feeling like she's going to pull out some cardboard and start back spinning and doing no handed windmills. The guy across from me right now is rubbing his Ipod (he calls it his girlfriend) and my roommate is teen wolf, or maybe that religious circus freak guy from x-men because he has religious tattoos all over him. Oh yea, of course there is the shrine in my room. It consists of Ghanesh, Buddah, and Jesus. I guess they're all pals. Either that or he's just a religion slut. The rest of the people are popped collar wearing mid-western frat boys or Middle Canadians from the bush. Oh geez. Hostel life will end on Friday, thank god, or Ghanesh or Buddah, take your pick. I really want to get one of these little cars they have out here. They make cooper minis look big. They even come with necklace chain anchors. Don't ask me; I don't know. So, I've gotta go to training now (my trainer is the only normal person around) but I'll write later. Ashley says: I ate parsley to forget about how wild poop is. No I said that but anyway. BYE