Huh...
So... it's been awhile. I've realized that I HATE with an EXTREME PASSION my dad driving on the interstate (I-75 & I-95). I swear, I had three heart attacks tonight just going to Miami. Don't even get me started on coming back. And I'm about to throw-up because they stuffed me with food.
Dad: Margaret said she was hungry. Where do you want to eat?
Moi: No where. I'm fine until we get home.
Dad: No, you said you were hungry. Where should we eat?
Rebecca: Taco Bell would be good but Margaret doesn't like Taco Bell.
Moi: I don't care where you go; I'm not hungry.
Dad: Oh look! A Wendy's! We'll get you some food, Margaret.
Mom: Don't get me anything. I'm sick.
Dad: Okay. Margaret, do you want to eat at the Pollo Tropical next door?
Moi: NO! I'M NOT HUNGRY!
Dad: Okay, get yourself a chicken sandwich and fries from Wendy's.
Moi: ...
Please, shoot me now. I have two article summaries and one more lab report to do in six hours. HELP!
Dad: Margaret said she was hungry. Where do you want to eat?
Moi: No where. I'm fine until we get home.
Dad: No, you said you were hungry. Where should we eat?
Rebecca: Taco Bell would be good but Margaret doesn't like Taco Bell.
Moi: I don't care where you go; I'm not hungry.
Dad: Oh look! A Wendy's! We'll get you some food, Margaret.
Mom: Don't get me anything. I'm sick.
Dad: Okay. Margaret, do you want to eat at the Pollo Tropical next door?
Moi: NO! I'M NOT HUNGRY!
Dad: Okay, get yourself a chicken sandwich and fries from Wendy's.
Moi: ...
Please, shoot me now. I have two article summaries and one more lab report to do in six hours. HELP!