Wow I'm an idiot!
So I've had this journal thing for over two weeks now and managed to do three things: 1)only make one 'test' post; and B)totally forget that I have the stupid thing for about a week. So to answer a question that was asked... only god and everyone else besides me would know when(because I forgot to look at the timestap of said reply) yes we do have a couple of birdcages in the attic. Bad news is my mom doesn't like you and won't let you have one, good news is I'm only kidding and one is mine so it doesn't matter.
->(paragraph spacing inserted for Mulkey's pleasure)
Just like everything else he can get his hands on but anyways. So I see that Mike is a poetry man, which is perfectly fine, I used to write some back in the day. Lemme see if I still got somethin,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Chapelle does R. Kelly
Singing 'I'm gonna piss on you'.
Hmm, not too shabby. Anyways, today was long and pointless, like every other day at McStain's RV Superwhores. Fixed trailer lot for it to be torn up again, drove to Sanger to pick up a trailer (Sidenote: Did everyone hear about the dirty v-ball coach at sanger high and what she did w/a female student? Gotta love those lesbians), drove to Kaufman to put bike on trailer, returned to McStain's in time for the ever-so-skippable english. Oh well I got some flippin sweet tie-downs for free and gave them to that ungrateful bastard Mike: "here buddy you can have these cause we're pals" (ignoring Nate's comment and friendly gesture)--> "whats that sam? I'm gonna talk to you now and pretend Nate isn't here". Well don't worry one bit, just know that the single tear squeezed from my heart rolled slowly enough down my desolate face that I managed to capture the isolation and unite it with my growing collection of vacuous inhibitions kept warm by the heat protruding from the fire that burns within my soul!
And oh yeah Mulkey, good job borrowing my english book and forgetting once again to pay me you loser!
->(paragraph spacing inserted for Mulkey's pleasure)
Just like everything else he can get his hands on but anyways. So I see that Mike is a poetry man, which is perfectly fine, I used to write some back in the day. Lemme see if I still got somethin,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Chapelle does R. Kelly
Singing 'I'm gonna piss on you'.
Hmm, not too shabby. Anyways, today was long and pointless, like every other day at McStain's RV Superwhores. Fixed trailer lot for it to be torn up again, drove to Sanger to pick up a trailer (Sidenote: Did everyone hear about the dirty v-ball coach at sanger high and what she did w/a female student? Gotta love those lesbians), drove to Kaufman to put bike on trailer, returned to McStain's in time for the ever-so-skippable english. Oh well I got some flippin sweet tie-downs for free and gave them to that ungrateful bastard Mike: "here buddy you can have these cause we're pals" (ignoring Nate's comment and friendly gesture)--> "whats that sam? I'm gonna talk to you now and pretend Nate isn't here". Well don't worry one bit, just know that the single tear squeezed from my heart rolled slowly enough down my desolate face that I managed to capture the isolation and unite it with my growing collection of vacuous inhibitions kept warm by the heat protruding from the fire that burns within my soul!
And oh yeah Mulkey, good job borrowing my english book and forgetting once again to pay me you loser!