My room is not usually clean. So I felt bad when my mom cleaned it for me. Yeah, Emily, Emily, and Amber are coming over, but MY ROOM IS CLEAN! It makes me feel like A LIAR! So now it looks like Martha Stewart room as opposed to a 5th grader or depressed artist. Although, I'm not a 5th grader or a depressed artist, but I am a writer.
Oh.
Which reminds me.
My mom got me this writing book from the library. It's not bad.
But it makes me explore my feelings and I dunno I feel like my writing sucks worse than it did before. Thanks for the help. But it's kinda cool. Some of the exercises are fun. Except for the one about the "my pet animal". Gee, what else would you have for a pet? A bunny, perhaps? But what kind of "bunny"?
*whistles*
My pet was an Irish Wolfhound. Which doesn't really make sense since I was addressing putting my own writing down and Irish Wolfhounds are really nice and make bad guard dogs.
Must.
Go.
Play.
SPIKEBALL!
Ew, it was gross, I put some bagel bites in the microwave for 4 minutes, just like the box said, and they were crunchy and all the pepperonis flew off.
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