I really don't know why I bother coming to class anymore.
Anyway I am entertaining myself during this interminable 2-hour lesson by thinking of the superb chocolate banana cake that Jarrad made, along with an extra-special bowl of chocolate icing for me. Did you know that icing is just butter and sugar? You'd think I'd be more disgusted, wouldn't you? Well you'd be wrong.
I'm sleepy. I'm sleepy, and my superhot lecturer is talking about salmon. And... how they can't swim up the river? Did he just say "salmon regime?" Have I started dreaming already? Because this usually begins with us making out.
Once upon a time, I would grab a hand and whisper dramatically, "run!" And the person attached to that hand would always, always run. And we'd run until we were panting and when we'd stop I'd get the questioning look and I would have to explain how I can never look at wide-open spaces without wanting to run. Plus, I'd always wanted to do that to see if it would work.
Now I can't remember where the keys to type the word "questioning" are because I'm so used to AutoCorrect autocorrecting "qstng" for me and wondering when the two fine male specimens whispering so closely in front of me are going to give up the ghost and start kissing already. And no matter how hard I tug, I can't find a hand attached to a person who's willing to run with me.
I wonder if only dipshits toss coins into the Avon and make wishes.
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