Bad news, baby.

All Mikes are bad news for me. Every Mike I’ve ever met. Haha. Oh man, it’s almost a little funny.

Last night before store closing, a tipsy 28-year old Mike tried to pick up on me and spontaneously spend New Year’s with me. Who does that? He even knew how old I was. Ew.

New Year’s went well. I hope this year is even more climactic than the previous one. In all those good climactic ways.