May 15th, 2005
Happy 21st Birthday, Laurel. Have some liquor. You know what, have a whole fucking bar. In fact, because we like you so very much, you can have the house it's in, too.
Hal showed me his will today. He wants to leave me everything. His house, his car, his money.
The last of which, he's apparently got plenty. He claims he won't be saddling me with any medical debt and I'll never have to work ever again.
I told him I don't want it, any of it. I just want him to stick around. See me graduate. Hassle my boyfriends. Give me away at my wedding. Hop my kids up on sugar just before he gives them back to me.
Smartass just started singing the Rolling Stones to me.