Daydreamers. Please Wake Up. We Can't dream no more . . .

Here I seet (sit).

Here I bloggg.

Here I type.

Here I draw.

Anyway, here I am, eating the last of the Turkey Hill's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream (Omigah. My fave. I lurve cookie dough. Seriously? Visit me with Cookie Dough and IDGAH [I Don't Give a Hoot for the beginners] if you're fxckin' Megatron ready to let loose a missile full of whoop tooshy, dude. I will let you in!) and typing my Journalism paper on blogging (herrrrr. Thats what I'm doin' now, sucka!) and it is currentlyyyyyyy . . . 12:13am. Hoopla. And my mind just starts drifting . . .

Don't you lurve it when that happens? Dude, you're in class. Bumass teacher is talking about stuff you surely won't need later on in life cuz you're gonna be an astronaut. And then your mind just shifts . . . Treasury moments, my dear. I treasure those spacey moments. In grade school, in my progress reports, my teachers wrote "Cynthia (my real name for the bright ones) is a great student. But she tends to daydream a lot. She has a hard time paying attention." I one time had to go to the school psychiatrist for a year because they thought something traumatizing had happened to me when i was younger and thats why I can't concentrate because that traumatizing thing still haunts the depths of my mind . . . eerie, huh. Idiots. I was eleven. Eleven year olds NEVER concentrate. All they think about is becoming what they want to become (Thank Jesus I didn't want to be an astronaut. Whaaaa?!)! I became a victim of that! Is it really that uncanny? Fudge cakes.

Lemme tell you. Daydreaming is amazing. I can't imagine a person who doesn't daydream. Gosh, they must be dry as fruck. Throw you in a pool and your hair is still disgustingly unmoist. ::SHUDDER::

This is probably my most random post. And weirdest. And yet, understandable.

Don't sit there and lie to me. I know it is! I'm a smart ass--

. . . shifts . . . there I go again.

TIDBIT: Oh, poo. The ice cream's done. Oh well. Guess I'm going to take a trip to Coldstone tomorrow with my bum bitch, Latoya and have them make me some. 'Cause Megatron apparently doesn't feel like dropping by OR whooping my tooshka.

Metal douche.

Son, I've got Optimus Prime on speedy dial.