Felt like typing something big and important for the title. *sheepish*
So, my dad gave to two flash drives with a bunch of music from one of his friends at work. I've never met the guy, but I've decided he is incredibly awesome. One: His music? Is totally my style. He's even got some of the same random-a** songs that I do on there. (And ******** yes, he has the Village People, why don't I already have them-AHEM) Two: He raises pigeons and then releases them in great flocks for money. And then they fly back home. Which makes me go "Holy ******** dude, why are stealing my dreams? Now I don't know if I can accept your awesome-sauce lifestyle through my veil of jealousy." To make up for my confusion I am stealing all his musics and listening to Death Cab For Cutie just to spite mynosehim.
You know when you go to a clothing store and you buy a bunch of shirts and they have to take everything off the hangers and fold them? I swear to god, every time the question, "So, do they make you take a three week class on how to fold clothes in a way that makes other people jealous?" is right on the tip of my tongue. They fold my clothes better in two seconds than I do doing it and redoing it five times. Not. Fair.
I'm going camping~ *yayers!*
Earlier today I was putting away my clean clothes *fromlastweekcough* and practically melting in my goddamn pajamas, so I changed into my jeans and simply took off my shirt, (I was wearing a bra and don't judge, you do it too *insecure*) but I was couldn't help thinking to myself, "Oh Kristina, the world is so much cooler and more pleasant when a shirt is not suffocating you in heat, but really, you cannot waltz out into the world on display like this. And the only thing you could possibly put on to make yourself decent in the eyes of the world is that forsaken XXL t-shirt you wear as pajamas. Ah, but your tank tops are all still dirty! What, pray tell, could you wear should a public appearance be in necessity?" (Yes, I speak Shakespearean in my head, MOVE ON) Then, like a beacon light!, I spot the shirt Briauna left here last week. A tank top no less! Without hesitation I grab the article of clothing and don it. And it is.... the most comfortable, wonderful tank top I have ever had the pleasure of putting on my person. And it was stretchy and small, so it conformed and made me feel as though I was still wearing nothing. Aaaaahh.... Bliss.
Briauna may never see this shirt again.
Another query for you all(am I speaking funny? I'm speaking funny. What the fuuuuu-): why is it whenever I feel sick enough to warrant a stay home(which is annoyingly frequent lately) why do I burst into dance are some point in the day, no exceptions? Bursting into dance is not a regular part of my schedule! Why do I do it when I'm sick and don't even want to moooooove? *whiny*
Now, as a parting word: In every home, in every room, there is one rule to be followed. The person who owns the room? Is the ******** ruler of the dance floor and that s**t is not to be questioned. Got it bitches? *gets down to Bodyrockers*
I'M NOT GONNA EDIT MY JOURNAL ENTRIES. SCREW THAT. IT'S GONNA BE JUST LIKE OLD TIMES. YAY FOR NOT SELF-IMPROVING
Welcome my friends to the midnight cabaret, where the drinks are free but you really must stay
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Ramblings of a Fish
Just my ramblings, of random things obviously. They're disturbing, most likely boring, and will make you want to jump out of your seat and run away in terror! Muahaha! .....Nah, I'm kidding. I'll be rambling and that's it. So read it! XO
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