kate is in negotiations
Where the hell has this nimbus of dead baby jokes come from? I heard two or three this morning during first period, and just saw a lengthy list of them when I spotted a random ad banner in the members' area and made with the clicky-click. For those of you who haven't heard one yet, they go something like this:
Q: What's the difference between dicing an onion and dicing a dead baby?
A: You don't cry when you dice a dead baby.
?!
I do not like children. But the macadamia who initiated this conga line of dead baby jokes is one sick fuck.
Ashley decided she would rather wear a dress for the upcoming band concert instead of a tux, and, being a senior, her preferences took precedence over mine. Most band members were fitted for their respective outfits on Monday. I slipped mine on over my clothes, and when I saw my reflection in a window my face contorted into a sour expression. I have to pay ten dollars to compensate dry-cleaning fees. I would rather wear a potato sack. The last concert was in October, and since Wind Ensemble's uniforms hadn't been distributed, we were permitted to wear jeans and such. Before we were scheduled to file out on stage, a girl in a lesser band passed me in the hallway and commented bitterly to her friend that I wasn't decked out in concert dress. I stifled the urge to tell her that we would be the ones suffering later. I decided not to spoil the surprise.
Pat's going to be moving a month from now. He'll be twenty minutes closer, away from the company of women who use his orange juice for screwdrivers and fans to clear the haze of cigarette smoke, and transferring to a new county will shave 60% off his current car insurance payment. That, and he'll be able to cart me off to school some mornings and perhaps eat breakfast with me beforehand. Anyway, after walking hand-in-hand with Old Man Death on multiple occasions while crossing through the school's parking lot, I have decided that I will never drive to school unless faced with the threat of a lingering death. Also, I won't drive while Pat is in the passenger seat until I've had my license for a solid five years, because that fateful day in June when I drove his Camaro down a straight road peppered with shallow potholes and his mom motioning for me to hit the gas, he came THISCLOSE to wetting his pants.
He was whimpering and weeping while I drove down a street devoid of curves, but then told me to do a U-turn, because that U-turns are easy, and that's about when the Camaro slid into the ditch. That still embarrasses me.
I found this site that "will find out what Google.com thinks of you, your friends or anything," so in my name went and many results were reaped. Some are better than others.
kate is great
kate is my idol
kate is shoving the dildo into the pussy of her lesbian friend
kate is scary
kate is not a bitch
kate is the best
kate is almost one month old
kate is the proverbial "one woman rock band"
kate is a massive madonna fan
kate is like christmas when i was a kid
kate is ready for reign spotlight hits granddaughter of lucy
kate is now my favorite after spanky left
kate is a transsexual
kate is a spy
kate is in negotiations
kate is a disaster waiting to happen
Goodnight?