When you go to see Brand New and they play the set-list of your dreams (almost), walk half way home and a bunch of 18-year-olds pretending to try to trip you up with sticks subconsciously make you decide the party ain’t over yet, spend the rest of the night dancing terribly and falling over a lot, and end the night on wii internet watching videos of puppies and reading the worlds WORST sex stories until 6am, then get up three hours later for work and spend 20 minutes staring at the computer because your head is falling apart so badly you’ve forgotten how to send an email.
LIFE/DEATH.