I started school last night! For those of you who don't know, I recently decided to pursue my Master's Degree in English Literature at the University of Central Oklahoma. (Man, that was a lot of capitalized words.) My first class was last night. Shakespeare. Aye forsooth.
I've never denied the fact that I'm a super nerd. But sometimes I completely amaze myself at the level of nerdiness that I exude. For instance, my class last night started at 7:30, but I left my house at 6 so I could get to school early enough for an entire NFL football game to take place before my class, should such an instance need to occur. Also, if that wasn't nerdy enough, I actually stopped at the public library on my way to school to pick up some books to read while I waited around for Room 219 of the Liberal Arts building to become vacant. Thank goodness I left the pocket protector and suspenders at home. Sheesh.
So, I sat outside my class and read for a good lengthy time. When I was finally allowed to enter the room I set up my note-taking perch on the back corner desk. Since there was still about 20 minutes to class time, I took out my sharpened pencils, my clean notebook, and my text book, and set them all in the top left corner of my desk, the home of every diligent student's classroom necessities, then proceeded to read some more.
When the professor finally arrived, I was thrilled to see he was the embodiment of every delightfully quirky Lit professor I've ever had. Complete with a "Whoa" (a white man's afro). Aaaaaand, to make the situation so much more wonderful, he brought the whole class Diet Coke and baklava. Now, I have no clue what either of these food items has to do with Shakespeare. I mean clearly grapes, bread, goblets of wine, and spiced meat from an Igloo cooler would have been more applicable sustenance, but I don't usually turn down free food or drinks, so I happily consumed the Diet Coke he offered.
And as people were slowly filtering into the classroom, he kept calling them by name and welcoming them to the wonderful abyss of Shakespearean goodness. I was so impressed that he knew so many of the students and I was also slightly jealous that he didn't know who I was...until he frantically turned toward me, pointed, and shouted "Are you the famous Tracy Hastings???!!" I didn't know what to say! I was so tempted to say "Yes! Yes I AM the famous Tracy Hastings! Please, remind me again what I'm famous for and if you are in the habit of giving As to this famous young woman!" But, my sheer panic led me only to the boring truth and I nervously shook my head no. He didn't seem too disappointed so I felt confident that Tracy may not have been the best person's identity to adopt at that particular moment. However, if he would have said "Are you the famous Angelina Jolie?!?!" clearly I would have indulged him.
Eventually, everyone got settled in and the professor began discussing the expectations of the course and I felt my pulse race with excitement as every paper assignment was mentioned and every due date handed out. La la la la. Then, he handed out our first assignment: Read Julius Caesar by Wednesday. Great Caesar's ghost! Is he serious! Reading a Shakespeare play involves so much more than two days. My heart was beating even faster at the challenge. I wanted to stand on my chair and shout "Friends! Countrymen! Lend me your ears! I WILL have this entire play read by Thursday...O pardon me thou bleeding piece of earth!" And I'm halfway tempted to wear a toga to class, but I'm not ready for them to see how completely zealous I am about getting an A just yet. I must pace myself.
Toward the end of class, we watched some of the 1944 version of Julius Caesar which stars Marlon Brando as Marc Antony. Not a bad person to see in a toga, that's for sure. And as we watched the famous murder scene when Caesar looks at his betrayer and friend and stammers "et tu, Brute?" I couldn't help but think of the other day when I gave Tickle a bath and she gave me the same look that Caesar gave Brutus and I swear if she could have talked she would have said the exact same thing..."Et tu, Katy?"
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Why I Love My Mama
On the phone with my mother:
Katy: I'm almost finished with it.
Mom: It's a really good...OH MY GOSH HER BOOBS ARE HUGE...
Katy: Whose boobs?
Mom: This girl's on the street...they're huge! They're like Morganna's.
Katy: Who is Morganna?
Mom: She's got the biggest boobs in the world. Google her.
Katy; Mom, I'm at work. It'll probably take me straight to a porn site.
Mom: Yeah, probably. Do it anyway.
Katy: I'm almost finished with it.
Mom: It's a really good...OH MY GOSH HER BOOBS ARE HUGE...
Katy: Whose boobs?
Mom: This girl's on the street...they're huge! They're like Morganna's.
Katy: Who is Morganna?
Mom: She's got the biggest boobs in the world. Google her.
Katy; Mom, I'm at work. It'll probably take me straight to a porn site.
Mom: Yeah, probably. Do it anyway.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Airport Hugs
I went to pick my grandma up from the airport last night and had the beautiful honor of watching the people from the flight before hers come out and greet their loved ones.
Now, I'm not trying to get all sappy, but I think airport reunions are the most soul reflecting moments in our world. I don't care who you are, whether you have made plans to be picked up or not, EVERYONE hopes to be greeted by a familiar face when they get off a plane.
So, as I stood there waiting for my grandma, I melted and made up stories about the people I saw:
Carl and Francis. Carl and Francis were just returning from visiting their daughter in Sacramento. She moved out there about five years ago with her husband and three daughters. Usually, she's the one that comes to visit her parents, but this time Carl surprised Francis with a trip to see their daughter, in honor of their 47th wedding anniversary....not an anniversary that holds any special epic reward except for the fact that he's still madly in love with her. So much so that he carried her purse as they descended down to baggage claim, his hand resting on her back as if it felt more comfortable there than hanging idly from his arm. They didn't expect anyone to be waiting for them because they had already shown up for each other.
Tina, Wade, and Cheryl. Tina and Cheryl are sisters. Cheryl just flew in from Washington with her husband Wade and their four year old daughter, Chrissy. Tina waited anxiously for their arrival while holding her own four year old child, Braydon, in her arms. It's been only six months since these sisters saw each other, but Grandpa Darren's funeral was hardly a reason for celebration, so this visit was going to be sooo much better...just what they needed. Upon arrival, Tina feverishly grabbed her niece and Cheryl dramatically swooped up her nephew as if they were clinging more to the reminders of their sisterhood as it had been in their youth than the children their adulthood had produced. Wade stood by, knowing better than to get in the way of women and sisters and children and all of that. Cheryl held Braydon and Tina now had Chrissy as they went off to retrieve the bags that Wade would no doubt be left to carry.
The Porter Family. Mr. and Mrs. Porter found out 10 years ago that they would never be able to have children. After two years of mourning and 45 marriage counseling sessions, they decided their love for children was not meant to be withheld due to this minor setback. So, they started to look into adoption. Mr. Porter was anxious to begin the search for a tiny infant they could raise as their own, but Mrs. Porter felt strongly that the children waiting for them were in another country and were already past those first developmental years. It took some time for Mr. Porter to be in agreement, but eventually he knew that his wife was right. These children deserved homes, too. So, they showed up at the Will Rogers Airport at 7:45 p.m. on Monday August 13, 2007, with a red balloon, a white balloon, and a blue balloon. The next fifteen minutes were spent on tiptoes as they craned their necks to see her coming. And when they finally noticed Sung-Li, they hoisted their signs that bore her name above their head, and waved furiously. An unapologetically American wave. Sung-Li, shy and insecure from the circumstances that made up her nine year old existence, humbly bowed her head and allowed herself to become liquid, bending like a question mark as she melted into the arms of this new family that chose her. She accepted the patriotic balloons and wondered quietly when she would get the opportunity to embrace them again.
It was such a great privilege to watch these reunions and that last one honestly made me choke up. Not tear up. Choke up. I was choking on tears because it was such a delicate, human moment. And then I felt dumb for crying because come on. Who cries at the airport??? Oh wait. Lots of people...
Then, my grandma wheeled around the corner. I gave her an "airport hug" and we went and got her bags and went home. And the parking was free! Yay!
Now, I'm not trying to get all sappy, but I think airport reunions are the most soul reflecting moments in our world. I don't care who you are, whether you have made plans to be picked up or not, EVERYONE hopes to be greeted by a familiar face when they get off a plane.
So, as I stood there waiting for my grandma, I melted and made up stories about the people I saw:
Carl and Francis. Carl and Francis were just returning from visiting their daughter in Sacramento. She moved out there about five years ago with her husband and three daughters. Usually, she's the one that comes to visit her parents, but this time Carl surprised Francis with a trip to see their daughter, in honor of their 47th wedding anniversary....not an anniversary that holds any special epic reward except for the fact that he's still madly in love with her. So much so that he carried her purse as they descended down to baggage claim, his hand resting on her back as if it felt more comfortable there than hanging idly from his arm. They didn't expect anyone to be waiting for them because they had already shown up for each other.
Tina, Wade, and Cheryl. Tina and Cheryl are sisters. Cheryl just flew in from Washington with her husband Wade and their four year old daughter, Chrissy. Tina waited anxiously for their arrival while holding her own four year old child, Braydon, in her arms. It's been only six months since these sisters saw each other, but Grandpa Darren's funeral was hardly a reason for celebration, so this visit was going to be sooo much better...just what they needed. Upon arrival, Tina feverishly grabbed her niece and Cheryl dramatically swooped up her nephew as if they were clinging more to the reminders of their sisterhood as it had been in their youth than the children their adulthood had produced. Wade stood by, knowing better than to get in the way of women and sisters and children and all of that. Cheryl held Braydon and Tina now had Chrissy as they went off to retrieve the bags that Wade would no doubt be left to carry.
The Porter Family. Mr. and Mrs. Porter found out 10 years ago that they would never be able to have children. After two years of mourning and 45 marriage counseling sessions, they decided their love for children was not meant to be withheld due to this minor setback. So, they started to look into adoption. Mr. Porter was anxious to begin the search for a tiny infant they could raise as their own, but Mrs. Porter felt strongly that the children waiting for them were in another country and were already past those first developmental years. It took some time for Mr. Porter to be in agreement, but eventually he knew that his wife was right. These children deserved homes, too. So, they showed up at the Will Rogers Airport at 7:45 p.m. on Monday August 13, 2007, with a red balloon, a white balloon, and a blue balloon. The next fifteen minutes were spent on tiptoes as they craned their necks to see her coming. And when they finally noticed Sung-Li, they hoisted their signs that bore her name above their head, and waved furiously. An unapologetically American wave. Sung-Li, shy and insecure from the circumstances that made up her nine year old existence, humbly bowed her head and allowed herself to become liquid, bending like a question mark as she melted into the arms of this new family that chose her. She accepted the patriotic balloons and wondered quietly when she would get the opportunity to embrace them again.
It was such a great privilege to watch these reunions and that last one honestly made me choke up. Not tear up. Choke up. I was choking on tears because it was such a delicate, human moment. And then I felt dumb for crying because come on. Who cries at the airport??? Oh wait. Lots of people...
Then, my grandma wheeled around the corner. I gave her an "airport hug" and we went and got her bags and went home. And the parking was free! Yay!
Monday, August 13, 2007
A Letter to the Horn in My 2002 Honda Civic LX
Dear Horn of my Honda,
It's a good thing you weren't the only thing standing in the way of me and death the other day when that guy pulled out in front of me. I mean I could understand your lack of enthusiasm if I used you on a consistently regular basis, but I clearly only utilize you once in a great sweet while. And, more often than not, when I use you it's because I REALLY need you to get some point across that a simple hand gesture or hateful facial expression will not take care of.
I don't understand you, Horn. Isn't your sole purpose as a fixture in my vehicle to serve and protect? When one thinks of the essence of who you are, it usually conjures up images of fear and respect...but when I think of you, I picture only the worthless piece of garbage that you are and how every time I use you it's more like I'm presenting a three headed tiger at the circus rather than a loaded reminder that someone has clearly violated my rights as a responsible driver. *insert festive circus music here* "Look ladies and gentlemen! Katy's using her horn! Isn't it adorable?! What will she think of next?!!!"
People talk about you, you know. I've had people get in my car, put you to the test, and then practically laugh themselves into oblivion because are you serious? that was your horn? Who are you trying to scare into submission with THAT thing? These embarrassing presentations of your less than satisfactory abilities have often left me feeling reasonably insecure and ashamed.
I'm very evidently disenchanted with you, Horn. I think it mostly has to do with the laughable responses I get when I put your abilities to the test. I'm fairly certain that most of my fellow drivers half way expect balloons and confetti to fly out my car when I use you because you quite obviously sound like you would be more willing to announce the arrival of a giant purple dinosaur than save my life. I mean I guess I understand. We all have our priorities. I would just love it if my overall safety was one of yours.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Katy
It's a good thing you weren't the only thing standing in the way of me and death the other day when that guy pulled out in front of me. I mean I could understand your lack of enthusiasm if I used you on a consistently regular basis, but I clearly only utilize you once in a great sweet while. And, more often than not, when I use you it's because I REALLY need you to get some point across that a simple hand gesture or hateful facial expression will not take care of.
I don't understand you, Horn. Isn't your sole purpose as a fixture in my vehicle to serve and protect? When one thinks of the essence of who you are, it usually conjures up images of fear and respect...but when I think of you, I picture only the worthless piece of garbage that you are and how every time I use you it's more like I'm presenting a three headed tiger at the circus rather than a loaded reminder that someone has clearly violated my rights as a responsible driver. *insert festive circus music here* "Look ladies and gentlemen! Katy's using her horn! Isn't it adorable?! What will she think of next?!!!"
People talk about you, you know. I've had people get in my car, put you to the test, and then practically laugh themselves into oblivion because are you serious? that was your horn? Who are you trying to scare into submission with THAT thing? These embarrassing presentations of your less than satisfactory abilities have often left me feeling reasonably insecure and ashamed.
I'm very evidently disenchanted with you, Horn. I think it mostly has to do with the laughable responses I get when I put your abilities to the test. I'm fairly certain that most of my fellow drivers half way expect balloons and confetti to fly out my car when I use you because you quite obviously sound like you would be more willing to announce the arrival of a giant purple dinosaur than save my life. I mean I guess I understand. We all have our priorities. I would just love it if my overall safety was one of yours.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Katy
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Day -o- Fun
Welp, I just thought I'd share my day with the one or two of you that actually read this thing.
It was a modest day. A day of nothingness, really. And when I am presented with a whole reasonable span of time that involves no personal plans or pre-set agenda, I tend to get a little excited and life suddenly starts to look a whole lot like a Rogers and Hammerstein musical with festive choral entroits and choreographed musical numbers. *twirl twirl twirl* NO PLANS!! *bell kick bell kick bell kick*
So I thought, for organizational purposes, I would take a picture of everything I did today and then explain each item so you can be as thrilled as I am with the sheer nothingness of my day.
I woke up at around 9am which was largely due to the fact that I actually went to bed reasonably early last night after deciding I would rather go home and sleep than meet up with my roomate at City Walk. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was grab my lap top and start watching disk two of Smallville Season 3. It's always great to start off each day with a superhero. Ain't nothin wrong with a little Clark Kent in the mornin, y'all.
I watched Smallville for a bit, then took a shower and cleaned my room. I left my apartment at about 12:45 to go down to my grandma's to feed her cats while she is visiting my mom in Ohio. While at my grandma's, I managed to spend the next 4 to 5 hours watching The Hills on MTV. Which, for those of you who don't know, is the most assinine show in existence, but so incredibly delicious I couldn't possibly change the channel. I mean, what if I like missed something really important like Heidi dumping buttface Spencer or like Whitney making head intern at Teen Vogue. Like, duh.
However, you will be pleased to know that I alternated reading two Christian non-fiction books during commercial breaks. Lies Women Believe and When Jesus Came to Harvard. So, while I was filling my mind with the attrocities of measuring up to the superficial existences of random twenty-somethings living in Beverly Hills, I was also counteracting each negative thought by reading books that reminded me that the Lord is in control of my emotions and I shouldn't live with an "I'll be happy when..." mentality. My brain was downloading so many conflicting thoughts that I'm pretty sure my house might have looked like the cottage in Sleeping Beauty when the fairies were firing different colors from their wands and the mayhem was shooting out the chimney for all the world to see. Yes, that's right (she says with an evil eyebrow raise)...my brain waves were so fiercely active, that my thoughts were atually launching from my brain and escaping through my grandma's chimney. In which case, you might have seen them if you were flying over SW 68th between the hours of 3:30 and 5:30pm.
After sufficiently warping my mind, I left there at around 6:30 and headed home. I borrowed my grandma's Dyson vacuum and decided to do some more intensive house cleaning...superhero house cleaning, if you will. And may I please just say that this was my very first experience with a Dyson vacuum. And please Sweet Lord of Mercy and Goodness, don't let it be my last. That thing was AWESOME. I don't want to go into too much detail lest another choreographed musical dance number ensue, but the sucky hose thing on the Dyson could quite possibly be the most life-changing thing I've ever experienced. You have to be careful, though, because it will literally suck up any and every thing that is put in it's path. I accidentally vacuumed the following: two bobby pins, a necklace, my white shabby chic shower curtain, half of a hand towel, and two bottles of perfume. No, seriously. I did.
After the Dyson dance number, I decided to play Boomer Sooner on my recorder. There was nobody here to appreciate it, but it's the only song I know how to play on my recorder and they always say that if you don't consistently play your instruments, you will forget how to play them, and, well, I just can't let that happen. After playing Boomer Sooner (twice....heheh), I settled in for some more Smallville lovin. But I was way too wired to just sit and stare at my lap top, so I grabbed a magazine and some scissors and my notebook and I made a prayer collage, which is an idea I got from my friend, Kim, where you cut out things in magazines that remind you of someone and then pray for them based on what you cut out (I think). It was a fun and artistic endeavor with results that made me feel more like a maniacal serial killer than a prayer warrior, but whatever. Here ya go, Kayla. I prayed for you/plotted to kill you tonight:
And, well, after creeping myself out with my very first prayer collage, I colored a pretty picture in my Princess coloring book! Yay! And painted my nails pink! Yay! Then, mercifully, before the night got REALLY out of control, my roomate got home and we chatted about the Lord and our lives and how completely ridiculous it is for us to spend more than 24 hours apart from one another. Giggidy. (That's for you, Carrie)
It was a modest day. A day of nothingness, really. And when I am presented with a whole reasonable span of time that involves no personal plans or pre-set agenda, I tend to get a little excited and life suddenly starts to look a whole lot like a Rogers and Hammerstein musical with festive choral entroits and choreographed musical numbers. *twirl twirl twirl* NO PLANS!! *bell kick bell kick bell kick*
So I thought, for organizational purposes, I would take a picture of everything I did today and then explain each item so you can be as thrilled as I am with the sheer nothingness of my day.
I woke up at around 9am which was largely due to the fact that I actually went to bed reasonably early last night after deciding I would rather go home and sleep than meet up with my roomate at City Walk. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was grab my lap top and start watching disk two of Smallville Season 3. It's always great to start off each day with a superhero. Ain't nothin wrong with a little Clark Kent in the mornin, y'all.
I watched Smallville for a bit, then took a shower and cleaned my room. I left my apartment at about 12:45 to go down to my grandma's to feed her cats while she is visiting my mom in Ohio. While at my grandma's, I managed to spend the next 4 to 5 hours watching The Hills on MTV. Which, for those of you who don't know, is the most assinine show in existence, but so incredibly delicious I couldn't possibly change the channel. I mean, what if I like missed something really important like Heidi dumping buttface Spencer or like Whitney making head intern at Teen Vogue. Like, duh.
However, you will be pleased to know that I alternated reading two Christian non-fiction books during commercial breaks. Lies Women Believe and When Jesus Came to Harvard. So, while I was filling my mind with the attrocities of measuring up to the superficial existences of random twenty-somethings living in Beverly Hills, I was also counteracting each negative thought by reading books that reminded me that the Lord is in control of my emotions and I shouldn't live with an "I'll be happy when..." mentality. My brain was downloading so many conflicting thoughts that I'm pretty sure my house might have looked like the cottage in Sleeping Beauty when the fairies were firing different colors from their wands and the mayhem was shooting out the chimney for all the world to see. Yes, that's right (she says with an evil eyebrow raise)...my brain waves were so fiercely active, that my thoughts were atually launching from my brain and escaping through my grandma's chimney. In which case, you might have seen them if you were flying over SW 68th between the hours of 3:30 and 5:30pm.
After sufficiently warping my mind, I left there at around 6:30 and headed home. I borrowed my grandma's Dyson vacuum and decided to do some more intensive house cleaning...superhero house cleaning, if you will. And may I please just say that this was my very first experience with a Dyson vacuum. And please Sweet Lord of Mercy and Goodness, don't let it be my last. That thing was AWESOME. I don't want to go into too much detail lest another choreographed musical dance number ensue, but the sucky hose thing on the Dyson could quite possibly be the most life-changing thing I've ever experienced. You have to be careful, though, because it will literally suck up any and every thing that is put in it's path. I accidentally vacuumed the following: two bobby pins, a necklace, my white shabby chic shower curtain, half of a hand towel, and two bottles of perfume. No, seriously. I did.
After the Dyson dance number, I decided to play Boomer Sooner on my recorder. There was nobody here to appreciate it, but it's the only song I know how to play on my recorder and they always say that if you don't consistently play your instruments, you will forget how to play them, and, well, I just can't let that happen. After playing Boomer Sooner (twice....heheh), I settled in for some more Smallville lovin. But I was way too wired to just sit and stare at my lap top, so I grabbed a magazine and some scissors and my notebook and I made a prayer collage, which is an idea I got from my friend, Kim, where you cut out things in magazines that remind you of someone and then pray for them based on what you cut out (I think). It was a fun and artistic endeavor with results that made me feel more like a maniacal serial killer than a prayer warrior, but whatever. Here ya go, Kayla. I prayed for you/plotted to kill you tonight:
And, well, after creeping myself out with my very first prayer collage, I colored a pretty picture in my Princess coloring book! Yay! And painted my nails pink! Yay! Then, mercifully, before the night got REALLY out of control, my roomate got home and we chatted about the Lord and our lives and how completely ridiculous it is for us to spend more than 24 hours apart from one another. Giggidy. (That's for you, Carrie)
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
The Quintessential Luke
Well, Luke. You turned 16 yesterday. I still can't believe it. I still can't believe you've been on this planet for a long enough period of time that the government somehow believes it's okay to hand you a license allowing you to operate a moving vehicle...that moves...and drives...on roads n stuff. I can still remember when I was told that I would be a big sister. I was 8 years old and thought I would be the baby of the family forever. Then you came along.
I was so in awe of you. I remember the phone call I got from dad at the hospital when he called to tell me you had finally been born. I was thrilled. I learned quickly how to scoop you up in my arms and change your diaper and make you smile. You weren't really a person in my world. You were more like a new toy. Something I could carry around and put outfits on. And you were spoiled. Being the first male child of the family and the newest baby in almost 8 years, everyone pretty much thought you hung the moon.
We all wanted to be the ones to feed you and put you to sleep. We fought over who would get to push you in the stroller and who would give you a bath. But, in the end, I think I won....You see, Luke, I don't think I ever told you this, but I used you as my fifth grade science project. It was a brilliant project that had a lot to do with raw vegetables and your reactions to certain foods. The details aren't important. Mainly because I was never good at Science. And you turned out fine, so no worries. Just please stay away from corn fields in July.
After the wonder of babyhood wore off, we sort of started to not get along, you and I. In fact, I loathed and despised you for the second and third year of your life. It might have something to do with my infamous competitive nature and the fact that you stole all the attention right out from under me. Or it might have something to do with the fact that pure evil invaded your body for those two years and directed all its hate and malice towards me. Whatever the case may be, let's just say you got away with a whole lotta crap while I got blamed for it. Thanks.
But we grew up and started to kind of like each other. I started to feel a strong connection to you when I realized your eyes were gonna stay blue, therefore making us the only blue-eyed children in the family. I also grew to respect your fondness for reading and your fascination with little plastic army men. Luke, you had army men everywhere. There were army men floating in the toilet at one point, I think.
Then, it seemed like over night you changed into this little man. You developed all these wonderfully human characteristics which, unfortunately for you, are almost identical to our father's. You have such a great talent at being at ease with the world. Nothing affects you too greatly. You show such amazing kindess to others and I've always believed you have this innate sense of rightness that is just forever imbedded in your character. You make it impossible for anyone to ever be mad at you. Frustrated to the point of delusion, yes. But mad, no. Your brothers look up to you and I think you have done a pretty good job of setting a strong example for them.
But the coolest thing is that you've managed to teach me some stuff over the years, too. If there's one thing I admire about you, it's your bravery. You are always very honest with yourself and that takes a lot of strength of character and wisdom. You are determined, but not in a conventional way. You are determined to be yourself which is more than a lot of people can boast. Most of us are too busy trying to fit in.
And even though it scares me to pieces that you are going to be behind the wheel of a car that's too big for any sixteen year old to drive (don't get me started), I know you will do your best to have fun while maintaining integrity. And if you start to drive like an idiot, I will sooooo bring up the resentment I've supressed from the years you were Satan to me and I will kick your ass. Don't think I won't.
Love you, bubba. Happy 16th.
Anonymous
Chapter One:
I walk down the street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in
It's not my fault
It takes a long time to get out
Chapter Two:
I walk down the same street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I see it there
I still fall in
It's not my fault
It takes a long time to get out
Chapter Three:
I walk down the same street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I pretend I don't see it
I fall in
I must be a victim
It takes forever to get out
Chapter Four:
I walk down the same street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I walk around it
Chapter Five:
I walk down another street.
I walk down the street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in
It's not my fault
It takes a long time to get out
Chapter Two:
I walk down the same street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I see it there
I still fall in
It's not my fault
It takes a long time to get out
Chapter Three:
I walk down the same street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I pretend I don't see it
I fall in
I must be a victim
It takes forever to get out
Chapter Four:
I walk down the same street
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk
I walk around it
Chapter Five:
I walk down another street.
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