La lingua de Katia

La lingua de Katia The writings of a child from a thousand different parents

Monday, March 29, 2004

Don't Fuck with me I got a cold chicken in my purse

True story as I type there is literally a cold chicken emanateing a rather funky smell from the seems of my bag.
Most likely I will be attacked my hairless wilderbeasts as I truck it on home from the algid computer lab. (I like the word frore as well) Anywasy back to reality. I think I shall be famous and rich and give vast blank checks away to the opulent glitterati( i mean working class) It's just that my priorities have changed. I find myself ever so impresionable, I seem to be under the will of such reality television shows as The Apprentice, Extrememe Make over and Matt's Futon. All I want in life is a really great makeover and a million bucks to spend on slurpess and bad meat. You know that is one of my fantasys, to throw a raw bleedin stake and have it hit someone in the face leaving a nice long smear of blood from cheek to cheek. Awww if only I had the money to get away with bombarding innocent by standers with beefalo.


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