1. Secret Heart - Feist
2. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple
3. Cigarette Burns - Flunk
4. You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift
5. Kicking Horse on Brokenhill - Godspeed You! Black Emperor
6. Whatever You Like - Anya Marina
7. A Man With No Ankles - Owen Pallett
8. The Long Way Home - Tom Waits
9. All I Want Is You - Barry Louis Polisar
10. Your Easy Lovin' Ain't Pleasin' Nothin' - Mayer Hawthorne
11. Life Ain't Easy For Y'all - Brother Reade
12. Just You and Me - Zee Avi
13. Engine Hart - Mirah
14. Breakable - Ingrid Michaelson
15. Dance, Dance, Dance - Lykki Li
16. Whenever, Wherever - Shakira
17. Honey Bee - Zee Avi
18. Always - Erasure
19. The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson
20. Cooler Than Me - Mike Posner
21. Party in the USA - Miley Cyrus
22. Poppy - Zee Avi
23. Cold War - Janelle Monae
24. On Love, In Sadness - Jason Mraz
25. I'm Good, I'm Gone - Lykki Li
Download me okay!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Pome: To My Sweetest Love
Art by my sister, Kayla Campbell, in the book we did together for a school project of hers, An Adverbly Adjectivey Collection of Pomes
Also! I sang it one time! When I was like 16! To the youtube!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Guess what I've been thinking about too much lately!!!!!
Monday, November 8, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Chapter 2, part 1
Changes to previous sections: Stepfather giving a gift to Anita changed to grandfather.
Chapter 2
Anita stretched as she leaned back on her heels and surveyed the work she’d done in the last week. She’d dug a new plot, planted her seeds, and diligently weeded. The garden near the house, soon to be filled with colorful flowers, was getting too small to feed her younger brother, Bernat, who was outgrowing his clothes monthly. Only 10, he was already as tall as her 5’, and would probably have a foot on her by the time supper rolled around. She chuckled, but her eyes quickly lost their happiness as the past dragged her back to remember similar words spoken by her grandfather the last time she’d ever see him. She frowned, remembering the gift he’d given her before the soldiers had come, and her and her mother had been the only ones to escape, but she shook her head and picked up her tools. It had been lost in the commotion of the day of her brother’s birth, and though she’d searched the forest since then, she’d never recovered it.
“Bear-nah! Bear-nah, I swear if you have stolen the bread again I will swat your behind! I do not care if you think you are the big man now, you can wait to eat at supper like the rest of us do!” Anita turned around at the loud, accented voice, and her smile returned. Marge was looking determined; Gods help Bern if he’d eaten the bread already. Anita walked around the house to the barn and sure enough, saw Bernat shoving the last of the bread into his mouth. He grinned at her, and joyfully ran to hide from Marge. Since Marge had found Anita and her mother in the woods ten years before, Anita terrified but doing her best to help the safe birth of her brother, her mother too weak to do much but breathe. Marge had appeared to them as an angel, and she’d saved all three of them. Isa, Anita’s mother, had survived, just barely, but miraculously. She didn’t ever fully recover her health, but she hadn’t passed, and for that Anita thanked the Gods daily.
Marge’s farmhouse was large, much larger than one woman could use, and she’d insisted that Isa, Anita, and Bernat fill it. After Isa had grown well enough, she and Marge would sit in the great front room, Marge at her great loom and Isa with the mending. They’d taken to each other like sisters, and they looked similar enough that Marge had told the curious villagers just that. She’d said that Isa’s husband had been a soldier who had been killed, and her and her family had come to live with Marge. Anita didn’t think Isa had ever told Marge what happened, and Marge protected them anyway.
The first night in Marge’s big house, Anita had crawled into Isa’s freshly cleaned bed, next to her exhausted mother and her sleeping brother. Isa had struggled to stay awake as she warned Anita never to tell anyone where they were from, or what had happened, because it would put them in a lot of danger. Anita had nodded, understanding the secret that needed to be kept, and had curled against her mother’s side, both giving in to much needed sleep.
After she’d put away her tools, Anita leaned against the outside of the barn and looked up at the darkening sky, dreaming about the future. She knew her mother worried that she was getting restless, but she couldn’t help but dream. When she’d been young, her mother had told her exciting stories about how she and Anita’s father had met. He’d saved her, wooed her, and they’d been married just weeks after they’d met. Her father, though, had been killed before she’d been born. After Isa had married Bernat’s father, the stories of the tragic, whirlwind romance had stopped. Anita and her stepfather had gotten along well because he loved her mother dearly, and she him, and they’d been happy with him. Anita frowned sadly at the thought that Bernat’s father too had been killed before he’d seen his child born. Shaking her head to clear it of unhappy thoughts, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself.
She wanted the love that her mother had with her father. She wanted fire, she wanted passion, and she wanted the madness of young love. But she also wanted the kind of love she’d seen between her mother and stepfather. Their love was sweet, mellow, and sensible. It was a lasting love that hadn’t been given the chance to last. Anita wondered often if she could have both those loves with one man, and she decided she could, and determined that she would.
When she’d first ventured out of the house and away from the garden, it had been weeks after their arrival to Marge’s. Anita was terrified to leave; afraid that she would be recognized by soldiers, and that they would do what she’d seen them do to her stepfather, her grandmother, and her grandfather. But Marge had insisted that she help her in town to buy new wool, and Anita had reluctantly agreed. She’d hid behind Marge as a boy and a girl her age had come up to inspect her, but as they laughed to each other, she’d stepped forward with her hands on her hips.
“I’m Needa. I’m Marge’s niece and you’d better be nice to me or else she’ll tie your heads together and leave you like that!” she’d said, which had only made them laugh harder. Anita had blushed, and turned to hide back behind Marge.
“Hi Needa. I’m Cassie. This is my dumb brother Calum. We’re 13. We have the same birthday, that means we’re twins. But don’t say we look alike because we don’t! We just both have blonde hair and blue eyes but everybody in my family does. Your hair is pretty, it’s so dark. My papa just came back from the capital and he brought me a doll. Would you like to see her?” The girl had returned, and the three had gone off together, Cassie chatting importantly, Calum and Anita walking quietly beside her.
Anita had had a monumental crush on Calum, and for a full year she’d blushed every time she’d seen him. But eventually, her infatuation had faded, and had been replaced by loyalty and friendship. The three of them had gotten into lots of trouble over the years, and Marge had yelled at them plenty. Other than Calum, none of the village boys held her attention much. They’d been obnoxious. They still were obnoxious, as many of them were courting her. Anita sighed in frustration and pushed herself off the barn as Marge rang the supper bell. Bern raced in ahead of her, starving to death despite having devoured an entire loaf of bread a mere half hour before. Anita rubbed her arms and looked around at the growing darkness, feeling uneasy, and walked up the steps into the house.
NaNoWriMo word count so far: 2548
Chapter 2
Anita stretched as she leaned back on her heels and surveyed the work she’d done in the last week. She’d dug a new plot, planted her seeds, and diligently weeded. The garden near the house, soon to be filled with colorful flowers, was getting too small to feed her younger brother, Bernat, who was outgrowing his clothes monthly. Only 10, he was already as tall as her 5’, and would probably have a foot on her by the time supper rolled around. She chuckled, but her eyes quickly lost their happiness as the past dragged her back to remember similar words spoken by her grandfather the last time she’d ever see him. She frowned, remembering the gift he’d given her before the soldiers had come, and her and her mother had been the only ones to escape, but she shook her head and picked up her tools. It had been lost in the commotion of the day of her brother’s birth, and though she’d searched the forest since then, she’d never recovered it.
“Bear-nah! Bear-nah, I swear if you have stolen the bread again I will swat your behind! I do not care if you think you are the big man now, you can wait to eat at supper like the rest of us do!” Anita turned around at the loud, accented voice, and her smile returned. Marge was looking determined; Gods help Bern if he’d eaten the bread already. Anita walked around the house to the barn and sure enough, saw Bernat shoving the last of the bread into his mouth. He grinned at her, and joyfully ran to hide from Marge. Since Marge had found Anita and her mother in the woods ten years before, Anita terrified but doing her best to help the safe birth of her brother, her mother too weak to do much but breathe. Marge had appeared to them as an angel, and she’d saved all three of them. Isa, Anita’s mother, had survived, just barely, but miraculously. She didn’t ever fully recover her health, but she hadn’t passed, and for that Anita thanked the Gods daily.
Marge’s farmhouse was large, much larger than one woman could use, and she’d insisted that Isa, Anita, and Bernat fill it. After Isa had grown well enough, she and Marge would sit in the great front room, Marge at her great loom and Isa with the mending. They’d taken to each other like sisters, and they looked similar enough that Marge had told the curious villagers just that. She’d said that Isa’s husband had been a soldier who had been killed, and her and her family had come to live with Marge. Anita didn’t think Isa had ever told Marge what happened, and Marge protected them anyway.
The first night in Marge’s big house, Anita had crawled into Isa’s freshly cleaned bed, next to her exhausted mother and her sleeping brother. Isa had struggled to stay awake as she warned Anita never to tell anyone where they were from, or what had happened, because it would put them in a lot of danger. Anita had nodded, understanding the secret that needed to be kept, and had curled against her mother’s side, both giving in to much needed sleep.
After she’d put away her tools, Anita leaned against the outside of the barn and looked up at the darkening sky, dreaming about the future. She knew her mother worried that she was getting restless, but she couldn’t help but dream. When she’d been young, her mother had told her exciting stories about how she and Anita’s father had met. He’d saved her, wooed her, and they’d been married just weeks after they’d met. Her father, though, had been killed before she’d been born. After Isa had married Bernat’s father, the stories of the tragic, whirlwind romance had stopped. Anita and her stepfather had gotten along well because he loved her mother dearly, and she him, and they’d been happy with him. Anita frowned sadly at the thought that Bernat’s father too had been killed before he’d seen his child born. Shaking her head to clear it of unhappy thoughts, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself.
She wanted the love that her mother had with her father. She wanted fire, she wanted passion, and she wanted the madness of young love. But she also wanted the kind of love she’d seen between her mother and stepfather. Their love was sweet, mellow, and sensible. It was a lasting love that hadn’t been given the chance to last. Anita wondered often if she could have both those loves with one man, and she decided she could, and determined that she would.
When she’d first ventured out of the house and away from the garden, it had been weeks after their arrival to Marge’s. Anita was terrified to leave; afraid that she would be recognized by soldiers, and that they would do what she’d seen them do to her stepfather, her grandmother, and her grandfather. But Marge had insisted that she help her in town to buy new wool, and Anita had reluctantly agreed. She’d hid behind Marge as a boy and a girl her age had come up to inspect her, but as they laughed to each other, she’d stepped forward with her hands on her hips.
“I’m Needa. I’m Marge’s niece and you’d better be nice to me or else she’ll tie your heads together and leave you like that!” she’d said, which had only made them laugh harder. Anita had blushed, and turned to hide back behind Marge.
“Hi Needa. I’m Cassie. This is my dumb brother Calum. We’re 13. We have the same birthday, that means we’re twins. But don’t say we look alike because we don’t! We just both have blonde hair and blue eyes but everybody in my family does. Your hair is pretty, it’s so dark. My papa just came back from the capital and he brought me a doll. Would you like to see her?” The girl had returned, and the three had gone off together, Cassie chatting importantly, Calum and Anita walking quietly beside her.
Anita had had a monumental crush on Calum, and for a full year she’d blushed every time she’d seen him. But eventually, her infatuation had faded, and had been replaced by loyalty and friendship. The three of them had gotten into lots of trouble over the years, and Marge had yelled at them plenty. Other than Calum, none of the village boys held her attention much. They’d been obnoxious. They still were obnoxious, as many of them were courting her. Anita sighed in frustration and pushed herself off the barn as Marge rang the supper bell. Bern raced in ahead of her, starving to death despite having devoured an entire loaf of bread a mere half hour before. Anita rubbed her arms and looked around at the growing darkness, feeling uneasy, and walked up the steps into the house.
NaNoWriMo word count so far: 2548
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Chapter 1 part 2
She didn’t stay asleep for long. Her mother’s shivering and soft moans soon stirred her, and she woke with relief at this sign of life from her. Anita knew death too well, and knew they were lucky to have survived this long. Her mother’s bleeding had worsened, and Anita knew her brother would be born too soon. Anita sat up and cupped her mother’s face with both hands, willing her eyes to open. They did, and though dull, Anita wept with relief. She helped get the small pack off her mother’s shoulders and shrugged it on to her own. Standing up, she helped her mother to her feet, and they moved once again through the forest, though the birthing pains kept their pace slow. Anita knew each step for her mother was excruciating, but she didn’t cry out. The most sound that came from her lips was a whimper as tears streamed down her face.
Somehow they kept walking until the sun began to rise ahead of them. Exhaustion would soon overtake them. Their pace had slowed to a crawl, and her fear for her mother and brother was rising with every step. They didn’t have many options. Her brother was coming, and he was going to come whether they were prepared or not. She could hear a stream nearby, and determined to stop when they reached it. She didn’t know much about birthing except what she’d overheard. Suddenly, she started to cry, remembering her mother and grandmother working together in the kitchen, preparing a big meal for the family to celebrate Anita’s 11th birthday. Her grandfather had come in from his shop and had kissed Anita’s mother on the cheek, chiding her playfully to get off her feet and keep that grandbaby of his healthy. Then he’d grabbed Anita under the arms, and grunted as he swung her up to his hip, announcing that he was sure she’d grown at least a foot since he’d seen her that morning. She’d laughed, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. He whispered that he had a present for her, and she had grinned at him, her eyes twinkling, and he’d slipped it into the pocket of her apron. She hadn’t even gotten to open it, and it was probably ruined now from the river. It seemed like an eternity since that happy evening, but it had been less than three days since. Everything had changed so quickly.
“Needa,” her mother whispered, almost too weak to speak, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry—“ she was cut off as another round of pains rolled through her. They had come upon the stream, and Anita kicked away some branches and helped her mother to the ground. She set the two packs on the ground beside her and dug through to find their near empty water jug. She gave the last of it to her mother, who was sweating with pain, and ran to the stream to refill it. As she crouched by the stream, she closed her eyes, and thought back to her grandfather.
When Anita had been very young, she had proudly showed her grandfather her new trick. She could blow out the candles from across the room, or knock things off high shelves she couldn’t possibly reach. It had frightened her grandmother, but her grandfather had just chucked and moved about the room righting things. When she was a little older, and calmer, he had taught her to relight the candles, and to lift things back up to shelves she couldn’t possibly reach, but these lessons were a struggle for her. When she was 8, a woman in her town had been put to death for being a “magic-user”, and that’s when Anita had learned that the things her grandfather had taught her were forbidden. He’d always told her not to do them around other people, and she hadn’t. When the woman was killed, she stopped doing the magic things all together.
She opened her eyes, and looked down at the jug she held. She dipped it into the water, and watched the tiny bubbles escape from the mouth as it filled. When it was full to the top, she lifted it out of the water, and closed her eyes once more as she touched the lip of the jug. She struggled at first to find the power inside her. It had been a long time since she used it, and had forgotten quite what it felt like to reach for it. She coaxed the power out, a tiny tendril of fog uncurling from its hiding place deep inside her, and she guided it clumsily through her fingertip to the jug. She saw the black stain on the water in her mind’s eye, and she forced it out with the fog. When the water was clean, she opened her eyes, and stood up again, swaying with fatigue. She rushed back to her mother, whose cries echoed through the forest, and began to pray.
Marge didn’t need to hear the faint cries to know the pain of the woman in the forest. She grabbed the large leather bag that lay on the table by the door and rushed outside, slamming the door behind her.
End of Chapter 1
NaNoWriMo word count so far:1374
Somehow they kept walking until the sun began to rise ahead of them. Exhaustion would soon overtake them. Their pace had slowed to a crawl, and her fear for her mother and brother was rising with every step. They didn’t have many options. Her brother was coming, and he was going to come whether they were prepared or not. She could hear a stream nearby, and determined to stop when they reached it. She didn’t know much about birthing except what she’d overheard. Suddenly, she started to cry, remembering her mother and grandmother working together in the kitchen, preparing a big meal for the family to celebrate Anita’s 11th birthday. Her grandfather had come in from his shop and had kissed Anita’s mother on the cheek, chiding her playfully to get off her feet and keep that grandbaby of his healthy. Then he’d grabbed Anita under the arms, and grunted as he swung her up to his hip, announcing that he was sure she’d grown at least a foot since he’d seen her that morning. She’d laughed, and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. He whispered that he had a present for her, and she had grinned at him, her eyes twinkling, and he’d slipped it into the pocket of her apron. She hadn’t even gotten to open it, and it was probably ruined now from the river. It seemed like an eternity since that happy evening, but it had been less than three days since. Everything had changed so quickly.
“Needa,” her mother whispered, almost too weak to speak, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry—“ she was cut off as another round of pains rolled through her. They had come upon the stream, and Anita kicked away some branches and helped her mother to the ground. She set the two packs on the ground beside her and dug through to find their near empty water jug. She gave the last of it to her mother, who was sweating with pain, and ran to the stream to refill it. As she crouched by the stream, she closed her eyes, and thought back to her grandfather.
When Anita had been very young, she had proudly showed her grandfather her new trick. She could blow out the candles from across the room, or knock things off high shelves she couldn’t possibly reach. It had frightened her grandmother, but her grandfather had just chucked and moved about the room righting things. When she was a little older, and calmer, he had taught her to relight the candles, and to lift things back up to shelves she couldn’t possibly reach, but these lessons were a struggle for her. When she was 8, a woman in her town had been put to death for being a “magic-user”, and that’s when Anita had learned that the things her grandfather had taught her were forbidden. He’d always told her not to do them around other people, and she hadn’t. When the woman was killed, she stopped doing the magic things all together.
She opened her eyes, and looked down at the jug she held. She dipped it into the water, and watched the tiny bubbles escape from the mouth as it filled. When it was full to the top, she lifted it out of the water, and closed her eyes once more as she touched the lip of the jug. She struggled at first to find the power inside her. It had been a long time since she used it, and had forgotten quite what it felt like to reach for it. She coaxed the power out, a tiny tendril of fog uncurling from its hiding place deep inside her, and she guided it clumsily through her fingertip to the jug. She saw the black stain on the water in her mind’s eye, and she forced it out with the fog. When the water was clean, she opened her eyes, and stood up again, swaying with fatigue. She rushed back to her mother, whose cries echoed through the forest, and began to pray.
Marge didn’t need to hear the faint cries to know the pain of the woman in the forest. She grabbed the large leather bag that lay on the table by the door and rushed outside, slamming the door behind her.
End of Chapter 1
NaNoWriMo word count so far:1374
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Guys, seriously. Make me stop. I have homework.
Chapter 1, Part 1
She tripped unsteadily between trees and over the jumble of branches, bushes, and rocks on the forest floor. Blood dripped from between her legs, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind her. One hand clutched her rounded belly, and the other held tightly to the hand of her young daughter. Her thighs trembled and a groan escaped her lips as another contraction hit her, but they had to keep moving east. If they were caught, not her, her daughter, nor her unborn child would be spared. She almost fainted with relief as she spotted the river through the trees, and again in terror when she heard the eager barks of the hounds growing nearer.
Here the river was shallow enough to cross by foot, but neither were strong enough to stand against the strong current. They waded into the cold river, icy from the mountain snow, and the tiny girl struggling to help her mother stay upright through the birth pains, but the rocks were slick, and they were both knocked into the water. The girl yelped as her tailbone cracked against a rock, but she bit her lip and stood again, trying to pull her mother to her feet. Her mother didn’t respond as she tugged on her hand, and dark liquid, too dark to be water, swirled around her. The girl looked up, wide-eyed in dread, as the howls grew so near she expected them to break through the trees at any moment. She glanced down again as she felt a tug on her hand, but her mother’s eyes were closed and the current was dragging her limp body downstream. Unsure of what else to do, the girl lay back down in the freezing water, wrapped her shivering arms around her mother, and let the river carry them away.
The river battered them as they were slowly dragged south out. Anita could feel her backside turning purple as it smashed against every rock in the shallow water. She quickly learned to navigate with her feet ahead of her, and to push off against rocks that cropped up before them. She struggled to keep her mother’s head above water, and to move her heavy body out of harm’s way, but she couldn’t keep her from being battered against the rocks on the bottom. She worried about her little brother, still in her mother’s stomach, but knew he would be okay if she could only get them to the east. She didn’t know what was in the east, but her mother had been desperate to get there, so that is where they had to go. When the river deepened, her bottom celebrated, but she was too small and too weakened to stay afloat. Somehow, she dragged them both to the east side of the river. She pushed her mother out of the water into the blessedly warm night air, and crawled out beside her. Her legs were too numb with cold to stand again, her eyelids drooped, and she fell asleep curled against her mother’s body.
NaNoWriMo word count so far: 496
She tripped unsteadily between trees and over the jumble of branches, bushes, and rocks on the forest floor. Blood dripped from between her legs, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind her. One hand clutched her rounded belly, and the other held tightly to the hand of her young daughter. Her thighs trembled and a groan escaped her lips as another contraction hit her, but they had to keep moving east. If they were caught, not her, her daughter, nor her unborn child would be spared. She almost fainted with relief as she spotted the river through the trees, and again in terror when she heard the eager barks of the hounds growing nearer.
Here the river was shallow enough to cross by foot, but neither were strong enough to stand against the strong current. They waded into the cold river, icy from the mountain snow, and the tiny girl struggling to help her mother stay upright through the birth pains, but the rocks were slick, and they were both knocked into the water. The girl yelped as her tailbone cracked against a rock, but she bit her lip and stood again, trying to pull her mother to her feet. Her mother didn’t respond as she tugged on her hand, and dark liquid, too dark to be water, swirled around her. The girl looked up, wide-eyed in dread, as the howls grew so near she expected them to break through the trees at any moment. She glanced down again as she felt a tug on her hand, but her mother’s eyes were closed and the current was dragging her limp body downstream. Unsure of what else to do, the girl lay back down in the freezing water, wrapped her shivering arms around her mother, and let the river carry them away.
The river battered them as they were slowly dragged south out. Anita could feel her backside turning purple as it smashed against every rock in the shallow water. She quickly learned to navigate with her feet ahead of her, and to push off against rocks that cropped up before them. She struggled to keep her mother’s head above water, and to move her heavy body out of harm’s way, but she couldn’t keep her from being battered against the rocks on the bottom. She worried about her little brother, still in her mother’s stomach, but knew he would be okay if she could only get them to the east. She didn’t know what was in the east, but her mother had been desperate to get there, so that is where they had to go. When the river deepened, her bottom celebrated, but she was too small and too weakened to stay afloat. Somehow, she dragged them both to the east side of the river. She pushed her mother out of the water into the blessedly warm night air, and crawled out beside her. Her legs were too numb with cold to stand again, her eyelids drooped, and she fell asleep curled against her mother’s body.
NaNoWriMo word count so far: 496
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Ode to El Beard
NEW BIDEO- singing ohgod
Lyrics:
Oh he's got the saddest tweets of any man I've ever known.
He's got the shyest package of any man I've wanted to bone.
He looks like a man,
He moves like a woman,
He picks up heavy objects like a God.
He's kind of old, he's a little grey, but I love him anyway.
His name- His name is El Beard.
His bark is rough but it's his bite that ought to be feared.
He flirts with every woman,
And he has sex with every man.
The only way he can get hard is with his mariachi band.
He cries the sorriest tears of any man who ever moaned.
He even cried after the sex that we had on the phone.
His name- His name is El Beard.
He's kind of cute.. But mostly.. Well mostly he's just weird.
Lyrics:
Oh he's got the saddest tweets of any man I've ever known.
He's got the shyest package of any man I've wanted to bone.
He looks like a man,
He moves like a woman,
He picks up heavy objects like a God.
He's kind of old, he's a little grey, but I love him anyway.
His name- His name is El Beard.
His bark is rough but it's his bite that ought to be feared.
He flirts with every woman,
And he has sex with every man.
The only way he can get hard is with his mariachi band.
He cries the sorriest tears of any man who ever moaned.
He even cried after the sex that we had on the phone.
His name- His name is El Beard.
He's kind of cute.. But mostly.. Well mostly he's just weird.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Walkin round the club wit ya thong in ya mouth.
Put my dick in, take ya thong out.
Fairly accurate portrait of El Beard: The Man in Black of the 21st century.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Writing essays is like having sex (alternate title: my life is pathetic)
ALSO: What the fuck, does no one like Sherlock Holmes? I told someone it was my favorite movie in the last five years and they were like "..... Oh." THEN I DUMPED THEM.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Buttcheeks
Thanks for bein' so rad, buddy. Sorry I put my body parts all over you tonight. You bore it with extreme dignity.
Love, Katrina
Thursday, September 16, 2010
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