ACK! Two entries?!? ONE DAY?!? Have I gone mad?
Well, frankly, I've been mad. Very, very mad. Maybe now I'm normal.
Remember the banshee picture I was telling you about? It was really supposed to be a picture of the wind? Well, do you wanna see? Then you're gonna have to go to my "art" page.
Or you could just scroll down a little (haha, got you there, didn't I?).
Lemme give a lame excuse as to why this is horrible. It's chalkboard chalk on construction paper. I am too lazy and constrained to get a job to buy proper artist chalk and I don't want to borrow and destroy Mum's artist paper with my horrible excuse for a picture of the wind that actually looks like a creepy banshee with glowing eyes, screaming in the cold. That's why! That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!
This is the next picture in the house of chalk horrors:
It's an angel. See, you don't know if it's a real angel or a gravestone, because it's in a graveyard, but you can't see a pedastal! Wow. This one is equally, if not more, terrible than the one above for the same reasons also seen above. Yes.
Now you know what my life is like. Seventeen years and I've accomplished nothing but inflicted harm and burden upon others and disturbingly bad portraits of things no one cares about. I'm not a bad artist, please believe me!
Recently I've been wondering about the Roaring Twenties! The age of jazz, the turbulent times of refusal and rebellion, the hour of bootlegging, flappers, and Zoot-suits. What a wonderful time that was, eh? Well, I was just wondering if there were any female bootleggers... I had a great-aunt that dated Al Capone. Does that qualify me to join the Mafia? Can an Irish/Scottish American join the Mafia? I was just thinking what a wonderful story that would make, female bootleggers. My family made money in bootlegging. None of it drifted over to my side, apparently... But you can't take my idea, or I'll sue you. And I can because my mum has a lawyer now.
So, yes, those are my current thoughts. I'm also a little thirsty, but very full from dinner, and I'm afraid that if by tomorrow I don't start exercising, I'll end up looking like Anna Nicole. AHHHH!!! Then I'll also have to be illiterate and immoral! So tomorrow, just to stay skinny, I hit Mum's exercise equipment! I'll sweat it to the oldies. Or some tv. Or a cd. And I'll never be worried by unsightly weight lines in my legs again!
I should write commercials.
I also ran out of title ideas. Will & Grace only has so many episodes, ya know?