My Peanut Butter ‘n’ Jelly ‘n’ Nutella sandwich looks like a crime scene

And Quinn, darling that he is, just offered to be my second when I commit ritual suicide in the bathroom. Or if he didn’t feel like cutting my head off, he offered to break a mirror and stick the shards in my forehead so I could look like a weird goth chick.

Sweet, n’est pas?

Anyway, back to my sandwich. I made it at about five to six. There’s enough peanut butter on that sucker to gag a yak. It’s an inch thick… mmmm. I can’t wait to eat it. It looks like a crime scene because the jelly seeping through the diagonal cut looks like blood. Actually, I think it looks like the blood on top of the sheet from the autopsy cut after they sew the body back up.

I haven’t finished my English homework yet, and I don’t particularly care, since I’ve got an hour and a half to goof off, and I really just have to re-copy it onto a nice sheet of paper.

Incidentally, I am the Queen of Biology. I got a hundred on the lab quiz, with an off-the-cuff answer that can be briefly summed up in the word “baboons.” In fact, that was my answer. Am brilliant. Go me.

[Total subject change]

I'm considering making a Grisson-with-a-gun icon that says "Cite your source, motherfucker." Just, well, because.

I really, really need my home computer back. I go through all these creative spurts at night, and somehow none of it translates over into the daytime, when I have nice, pretty computer access. I think it has something to do with obnoxious flourescent lighting. It just drains the thoughts right out of your head. Curse you, Evil Lighting Gods with your Flouresecence of Doom!

My Peanut Butter ‘n’ Jelly ‘n’ Nutella sandwich looks like a crime scene

And Quinn, darling that he is, just offered to be my second when I commit ritual suicide in the bathroom. Or if he didn’t feel like cutting my head off, he offered to break a mirror and stick the shards in my forehead so I could look like a weird goth chick.

Sweet, n’est pas?

Anyway, back to my sandwich. I made it at about five to six. There’s enough peanut butter on that sucker to gag a yak. It’s an inch thick… mmmm. I can’t wait to eat it. It looks like a crime scene because the jelly seeping through the diagonal cut looks like blood. Actually, I think it looks like the blood on top of the sheet from the autopsy cut after they sew the body back up.

I haven’t finished my English homework yet, and I don’t particularly care, since I’ve got an hour and a half to goof off, and I really just have to re-copy it onto a nice sheet of paper.

Incidentally, I am the Queen of Biology. I got a hundred on the lab quiz, with an off-the-cuff answer that can be briefly summed up in the word “baboons.” In fact, that was my answer. Am brilliant. Go me.

[Total subject change]

I'm considering making a Grisson-with-a-gun icon that says "Cite your source, motherfucker." Just, well, because.

I really, really need my home computer back. I go through all these creative spurts at night, and somehow none of it translates over into the daytime, when I have nice, pretty computer access. I think it has something to do with obnoxious flourescent lighting. It just drains the thoughts right out of your head. Curse you, Evil Lighting Gods with your Flouresecence of Doom!

Think am brilliant; am probably wrong.

Wrote brilliant essay-thing at any rate. The teacher read it out loud. I'm not sure why, as it was just a giant meanderance on purple chickens and the Heisenberg Principle, but whatever. I should copy it and put it up in here one of these days.

I really have to go to the bathroom, and I have to catch the bus.

I also need to find a job but that's a story for another day.

Bus in ten. Bye!

Think am brilliant; am probably wrong.

Wrote brilliant essay-thing at any rate. The teacher read it out loud. I'm not sure why, as it was just a giant meanderance on purple chickens and the Heisenberg Principle, but whatever. I should copy it and put it up in here one of these days.

I really have to go to the bathroom, and I have to catch the bus.

I also need to find a job but that's a story for another day.

Bus in ten. Bye!