(no subject)
This thing (the Writer's Block box) tells me it's ADHD month. It suggests I write about my experiences with ADHD, or those of someone close to me. September is ADHD month? Why September? That's probably the only month kids with ADHD pay attention to anything. September is football month. It is the month you get freshied. The month in which you wear new clothes.
A person I used to know in elementary school added me on facebook yesterday, which happens, I know, but this person is weird! Her initials were B.L. and her family's name was carved into a wooden sign they hung on the front of their house. Her first name rhymed with hook. In grade 7 she wore really tight shirts even though she had little boobies. She looks the same as her mom now. Squinty eyes and blonde hair. Enormous breasts and sharp teeth. She used to have a really abrasive voice. High-pitched and raspy. I just checked her profile photos and it creeped me out. One time we spied on her. I think it was less because we liked her and more because we thought her family was ridiculous. Her mom caught us, and I could tell by her face that she thought that we had a crush on her daughter. She was coy, and sort of derisive. I was in her class, so I think I was the most embarrassed. I figured her mom probably told her that somebody liked her, which was the last thing she needed to hear. Now she drinks Bacardi coolers on purpose. I've seen the pictures.
I don't want her to see pictures of me. I don't know what she'd think. She'd see my friends and think I was on drugs. She'd see my haircut and think I was crazy. She'd see a picture of me smoking and think I was the city's No. 1 bad boy. Not true, dude. I don't want to be rude, though, either, dude. I think I'll just leave her pending forever. Friend purgatory. Enemy purgatory. Don't take it personal, bitch.
One year when I was in elementary school, somebody spraypainted "Fuck you. Don't take it personal." on the rink boards behind our school, and I think that's awesome. I bet it was a teenager with long hair and very little respect.
I watched Dr. Phil's Brat Camp on the youtubes this morning and I can't stop thinking about kids. I don't want one. I think their personalities are probably at least 90% determined by the kind of parenting they get, but there's that other bit that's such a gamble. Not that I'm against anybody else having them. What do I care. Roll the dice, mommies. All I'm going to say is that your future may involve being slapped across the face by an overweight ten year old. And times your odds by ten if you're stupid! I'd post a link to the youtube clip if I wasn't so lazy. Search for Dr. Phil's Brat camp. It's worth it. You're worth it.
I'm going to bed! Don't take it personal!
A person I used to know in elementary school added me on facebook yesterday, which happens, I know, but this person is weird! Her initials were B.L. and her family's name was carved into a wooden sign they hung on the front of their house. Her first name rhymed with hook. In grade 7 she wore really tight shirts even though she had little boobies. She looks the same as her mom now. Squinty eyes and blonde hair. Enormous breasts and sharp teeth. She used to have a really abrasive voice. High-pitched and raspy. I just checked her profile photos and it creeped me out. One time we spied on her. I think it was less because we liked her and more because we thought her family was ridiculous. Her mom caught us, and I could tell by her face that she thought that we had a crush on her daughter. She was coy, and sort of derisive. I was in her class, so I think I was the most embarrassed. I figured her mom probably told her that somebody liked her, which was the last thing she needed to hear. Now she drinks Bacardi coolers on purpose. I've seen the pictures.
I don't want her to see pictures of me. I don't know what she'd think. She'd see my friends and think I was on drugs. She'd see my haircut and think I was crazy. She'd see a picture of me smoking and think I was the city's No. 1 bad boy. Not true, dude. I don't want to be rude, though, either, dude. I think I'll just leave her pending forever. Friend purgatory. Enemy purgatory. Don't take it personal, bitch.
One year when I was in elementary school, somebody spraypainted "Fuck you. Don't take it personal." on the rink boards behind our school, and I think that's awesome. I bet it was a teenager with long hair and very little respect.
I watched Dr. Phil's Brat Camp on the youtubes this morning and I can't stop thinking about kids. I don't want one. I think their personalities are probably at least 90% determined by the kind of parenting they get, but there's that other bit that's such a gamble. Not that I'm against anybody else having them. What do I care. Roll the dice, mommies. All I'm going to say is that your future may involve being slapped across the face by an overweight ten year old. And times your odds by ten if you're stupid! I'd post a link to the youtube clip if I wasn't so lazy. Search for Dr. Phil's Brat camp. It's worth it. You're worth it.
I'm going to bed! Don't take it personal!