I swear to God if the Yeerks are on Livejournal...
Dear Diary,
Went to school, saved the world, had another near-death experience, blah blah blah. Mr. Harris wants me to write a paper on Spanish missionaries. I've written two pages and I have yet to mention Spanish missionaries.
I'm starting to think that my life is so much like a movie that it needs a soundtrack. I'm thinking Beastie Boys. Well, I guess it's like a movie where the lighting's bad, the special effects are too realistic and none of the actors get paid. Oh, and there's no guarantee that the heroes don't end up a bunch of salami meat. And the movie goes on long after all the audience is ready to go home and pretend they didn't just eat an extra-large popcorn with extra movie theatre butter and a slushie and a king-size Kit Kat.
Why did I let Jake talk me into this?
Went to school, saved the world, had another near-death experience, blah blah blah. Mr. Harris wants me to write a paper on Spanish missionaries. I've written two pages and I have yet to mention Spanish missionaries.
I'm starting to think that my life is so much like a movie that it needs a soundtrack. I'm thinking Beastie Boys. Well, I guess it's like a movie where the lighting's bad, the special effects are too realistic and none of the actors get paid. Oh, and there's no guarantee that the heroes don't end up a bunch of salami meat. And the movie goes on long after all the audience is ready to go home and pretend they didn't just eat an extra-large popcorn with extra movie theatre butter and a slushie and a king-size Kit Kat.
Why did I let Jake talk me into this?