i knew that something wasnt right
yesterday i went to church at St. Anne's and saw amanda, barlow, jimmy, martin, rachel and more. then i went home and dave came over to spend the nite. we chilled and he spent the nite. we watched the southpark movie. then this morning we went to sonic and famous foottwear and took dave home. then petco. then i went to milanos to buy a new bass drum head cuz i busted mine last band practice. then we went to band practice we recorded two songs with out vocals or bass. cuz matt was gone. tribute and song about a girl. then i had soccer practice. easy. which is good. now im chillin. i stole these next parts from brian.
In golf' you can dress like a pimp and no one cares.Where you can wear colors where even a blind gay man would go, 'Oh dear Christ.' Even the little alligator on your shirt is saying, 'What are you on?' And it's such an exciting sport. Whack the ball. Get in the cart. Whack the ball. Get in the cart. And the commentary is electrifying.(Monotone voice) "We're on the thrid hole now. Could the crowd be quieter? I would like to hear the grass grow.
I don't know much about farming, but I think it would be profitable to give cancer to everything. Except chickens. Chickens kick way too much ass to be plagued. If I were a chicken, I'd be pissed if a farmer gave me a cigarette. I'd be like, "What the crap are you tryin' pull, Joe?" Then I'd peck him in the eye, pack up my feed and go find a new coop to kick it in. I'd make an awesome chicken.
In golf' you can dress like a pimp and no one cares.Where you can wear colors where even a blind gay man would go, 'Oh dear Christ.' Even the little alligator on your shirt is saying, 'What are you on?' And it's such an exciting sport. Whack the ball. Get in the cart. Whack the ball. Get in the cart. And the commentary is electrifying.(Monotone voice) "We're on the thrid hole now. Could the crowd be quieter? I would like to hear the grass grow.
I don't know much about farming, but I think it would be profitable to give cancer to everything. Except chickens. Chickens kick way too much ass to be plagued. If I were a chicken, I'd be pissed if a farmer gave me a cigarette. I'd be like, "What the crap are you tryin' pull, Joe?" Then I'd peck him in the eye, pack up my feed and go find a new coop to kick it in. I'd make an awesome chicken.