then there was the time where when i moved in, there was an irish family about 4 houses down from me. they had 4 daughters; Iona, Brona, Carla and Lourna... Iona was the youngest, and i'm pretty sure she introduced me to ace of base, so she'll forever be in my heart. as a matter of fact, my dad tells me that a few years ago they randomly visited (they moved back to ireland years and years ago) and came to the front door looking for me. i was out! WHY! why that day! they never left a phone number, or address... nothing. so, i hope she doesn't decide to come looking for me any time soon.
to think of all of the crazy shit that's gone down in my house. nothing too crazy; just basically my entire life. first kiss, first love, first break up, first heart break, first drink, first smoke, first first first first. i'm not entirely too saddened over having to leave this place; it needed to happen eventually, and i kind of like fresh starts and clean slates. but i look at these walls and i know where every scratch in the paint is from, i know the meaning behind every stain on the carpet and i swear to god if this house could talk it would be a tell-all best fucking seller. all of the pets! oh man, let me try to list them: sylvester, chester, seymore, ozzy, elvis, daisy, mickey, cleo, chubs, chico, my five fish all named after the spice girls, soup and salad, peaches, pickles, mel, sparky, and there has to be at least two more that i can't seem to remember. wow.
all of the house parties, late night fights on my driveway, smoking weed and walking to the park at the end of the street, and the nuuuumerous bike rides around my neighborhood to get away from it all. i fucking love this house. and i'll always be so thankful that mum and dad chose it.