my life just doesn't have the right quantity of risky factors that would enable it to actually come into such an enormously life-changing, uhm, moment.
i went to the grocery store yesterday with my mother, and passing by the veggie section, along the spot where one could get salad needs, bottles of veggie cleaner were standing in a neat row. and if anyone had already guessed it, yes, the name of the solution was "VEGIWASH". **in case you do not get it, try replacing E with another vowel [like O, but VOGI-WASH isn't really naughty-funny, as VUGI-WASH and VIGI-WASH aren't].
then i tried telling the thought to my mom, i being stupid enough to think that it'd sell, but then my attention was drawn to a pile [or do you call that a bushel?] of reddish mangoes. apparently, they are apple mangoes, and they are red, and they do not taste as good, betty said. fine, mother.
the baking aisle we came to next, and i got myself some pastry mixes. i try to bake at times, but i get more satisfaction by eating them. hey, don't judge; guys bake. most bakers are men. i, by the way, do not seem too guilty of this thing i do; the thing being something i do not enjoy thouroughly.
i just can't stop thinking about how overjoyed i am that i passed thrid year. i mean, i wasn't too bad, but definitely not even average. the work i've given was minimal, i accept that it was. oh well, see you guys in fourth year.
AND writing about who i want to see, i now want to write about hose people i do not want to see.
and the pair i have is a guy and an abomination-human-esque-vagina-bearing-estrogen-pumped-errr, creature.
the latter could go to hell, or wherever IT wants to go. go, bi*ch [nice censoring, albert. no one could ever read bitch out of it], go. no one is keeping IT here.
no one is keeping IT from leaving. but maybe that's why it ISN'T leaving. how the heck should i know? i don't even know the w*man that well.
the guy i do not want to talk about. the flak has reached so high.
sentence: I want them to get deductions. crabcakes are scrumptious. [a&b are both true]
another thing to yell about would be DOCTOR GONZAGA. for the last time, please, try growing a brain. if you did already, try listening to it for once. please. the stupidity is annoying enough.
um, if the entry is cryptic, and you're, like, not getting it, go to facebook or somewhere else, where dumb people get off. i don't get really why im on facebook. i'm not smart, but there are times when facebook just makes me stare annoyed at the screen, mouthing, "What the f*ck?!", shaking my head.