They walk in a penguine wobble, bobbing their big heads to a beat of an unsung song. They chew their gum, and stuff hands into too low jeans in that same off hand off beat rhythm with which they talk and rap in the latter hours. They grab the thick waist of the girl and throw her backwards, just out of sheer ability to do so, because they are the ultimate race, the gangta rapers of the suburbia. They can imagine that instead of walking down the school hall, they're in the ghetto with a pocket full of crack. They can imagine that instead of doing homework of adding, yet again, 2+2, they're counting the number of suckers they kissed with a brand new semi-automatic. I. Pity. The. Fools.
In other news, today promises to be a merathon of homework. Yes, perhaps I will be able to finish it and NOT fall asleep with my face stuck to the chm assignment. Fat chance. But I feel happy and bubbly and angry. I'm an angry person, so I suppose it's my 'normal' state. Saturday is ON with B, A, and S. Oh and before I forget I planned to go with Sr to Capital Steps. The only bad news that downed upon me like a fan-girl groupies was the fact that I missed SCOOTER. One time they come to my town and I just HAD to miss it. Urgh.
In other news, today promises to be a merathon of homework. Yes, perhaps I will be able to finish it and NOT fall asleep with my face stuck to the chm assignment. Fat chance. But I feel happy and bubbly and angry. I'm an angry person, so I suppose it's my 'normal' state. Saturday is ON with B, A, and S. Oh and before I forget I planned to go with Sr to Capital Steps. The only bad news that downed upon me like a fan-girl groupies was the fact that I missed SCOOTER. One time they come to my town and I just HAD to miss it. Urgh.