WOW,

I haven't written in about a month.
Honestly, I forgot about this momentarily...until my dear (and only) friend in Algebra II said out of nowhere: "You should have a blog."
And I do. True story. I'm just lazy and bipolar and forgetful.

School fails. My fifth hour is a giant F-MY-LIFE moment. If they find me sprawled across a desk with my eyes gauged out with pencils, Sara, you can have Chuck back. Damn thing won't sync.

Speaking of, classes:
First hour - symphonic band with the Turtle. I sit there and quote Walt Whitman in texts or mess with the auxiliary, or anything else I'm not suppose to do in that class, because I'm a stereotypical percussionist. Trombones, suck it, please.
Second hour - algebra II, in which I have conversations about poop and sex organs. (followed by lunch, the only highlight of my day. Oh, what can I do to poor Erich today? Just kidding, it's just sometimes his group of whores bother me. You've been officially warned.)
Third hour - ENGLISH, in which I say whatever I want, because it is English and I am the one who excels the most in literary terms in that much of crap classroom.
Four hour - fine art 1. Let me tell you something. I can't shade. I want to paint. And the people are rude, and no one listens, and I CAN'T SHADE.
Fifth hour - hell, aka, American history, aka, NO ONE GIVES A TINY RAT'S ASS. I'd love to skip that class everyday.

And then, except on Mondays, I go home, eat, and go to band. My life is awesome.

I took my cat for a stroll in the backyard yesterday. When she was crouched in a bush I thought she was hiding. Nope. She was peeing. I had to change my pants.

Something something something, somebody find me somebody to love...
Okay, I'm done.