(no subject)
dear god.
i just wrote the crappiest literary critique ever. my dog probably could have written a better one, and he eats paper. ms page is going to think that i have crap for brains.
which i suppose, could be up for debate.
i couldnt even bs my way through this one. usually i can make something up. but for this one? nada. not even a little inspiration.
i cant wait till xmas. just around the corner. 9 days. and i still havent finished. i have to get stuff for timtim and my older brother. argh. if only i had a bajillion dollars.
wishful thinking.
i think that perhaps i will go sit on the massager thingy and then go to bed. thats sounds fantastic.
i just wrote the crappiest literary critique ever. my dog probably could have written a better one, and he eats paper. ms page is going to think that i have crap for brains.
which i suppose, could be up for debate.
i couldnt even bs my way through this one. usually i can make something up. but for this one? nada. not even a little inspiration.
i cant wait till xmas. just around the corner. 9 days. and i still havent finished. i have to get stuff for timtim and my older brother. argh. if only i had a bajillion dollars.
wishful thinking.
i think that perhaps i will go sit on the massager thingy and then go to bed. thats sounds fantastic.