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2002-08-27/ DUH?!
yay! i'm a happy smart person. i just cut my lip licking a razor.
7:44 p.m. E
kat*~
2002-08-26/ textbook case for sigmund freud
Super Teen Extrodinaire
Take the Cartoon Hero Quiz?.
waaaahahahahaaaa!super teen extraordinaire
freakazoid freakazoid
runs around in underwear
freakazoid freakazoid
watches washington d.c.
freakazoid freakazoid
unless something better's on t.v.
freakazoid freakazoid
ah yes, children. i am also most like edward from cowboy bebop. yes.
yay. uselessquizzes.
12:32 p.m. E
kat*~
2002-08-25/ I LIKE CHICKENS, you guys!
"bladderdash!" shouted the russian emissary. "this nonsense will never solve the worldwide problem of salmon colored undershorts!"
which was absolutely true, as mosquitoes will tell you at the break of dawn.
torches in hand, the united secretaries of billowing coconuts screeched and wailed at the sight of pigmy portuegeuse pirates porking out on pineapples. symbols crashed and the dog frantically disappeared.
all around the world, the sound of music filled the air; cows buffeted the sides of the restaurant, all the while mooing with rage.
"you crazy floppo!" whispered anne marie, "i don't know WHY we had to sell those peacocks!"
gertrude found it all to be completely humiliating, and so sank into the ground on the very spot.
"mayOnnaise!" she could be heard crowing. "brussels' sprouts!"
the penguins, obviously with voyeuristic intentions, seated themselves firmly on the topsoil, upsetting the pitcher of lava that had been set aside for the high priest.
"prunes!" thought griselda. "these peaches will never do for the celebratory ignition of lake erie. we'll have to use rocks instead."
a cricket found himself deeply moved by the sight of moths exploding in fury, and imploded quietly, so as not to disturb his majesty.
the gluten-filled elderly of the metropolis gleefully took charge of the procession, bouncing on the heads of many a hag and inhaling the pocket money of many a soldier fighting the strangely odoriferous conglomerate of pusilanimous adzes.
"my children!" shrieked the compote, "the time has come! fill your cheeks and rejoice!"
at any other time, this would have seemed completely ridiculous; but, during the siege of the stink-brained, it was the most civilised solution for anyone or anything, anywhere.
eoan likes potatoes, but not as much as coal mining fish on the morning of july sixteenth, eighteen-sixty-seven. they dance the dirty polka all day and night, never ceasing; that is, until their batter is whipped and cheesy.
the squid hid out in the infirmary, never revealing his secret power of remote massage. the rubbergloved disciples of the shining wombat overthrew the toiletistic planet of churro in the meantime, while simultaneously outnumbering the population of termites in the windmill of doom.
"far be it for ME to say," quoth bob, "that this is a time of pure molasses crystals, but all should cover their heads with my patent-pending molten pewter visors. surely then, and only then, will our problems be solvededed."
as the screams of a million bushbabies were drowned in a sea of gravy, the surgeon general of the united states molted. the children all giggled, and flew away to their beautiful homes of toenails and cheese, never to giggle again.
i like chickens, you guys.
6:51 p.m. E
kat*~
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