CLUB 8O'S.

How creative our Student Government Association is!
May they rot in hell...Except for the cute ones.
I have no deafening sighs of protest running through my mind when I realize that I will not attend my Senior year Homecoming dance. It's an entirely frivolous waste of my time, and I hardly prefer frantic dress shopping over life as a miserable, cat-woman-spinster, but not in the cool, Halle Berry-wearing-tights, sense.
In fact, I so overly prefer this style of living that I have decided to spend the rest of my existence in solitude. Pitman says that it's healthy. What could be more inviting than enumerated hours all at my leisure, discounted argumentation, as I would be sheltered from the rest of the fragile and moronic populace, and wholly developmental growth time, in the sense that I could take my weary hours of freedom and hone viable, important talents, such as keyboarding or telekinesis.
Your mouse is floating in the air right now, isn't it?
Eh, merde.
I wanted to go. Just a little bit, but still...
Ahh. I'll rehash all of these unbridled mental incompetencies at a later date, possibly lying on a couch in a session of over-priced therapy.
As long as I'm not paying for it.