Tats Nutting We Can Tok Abt Now

I am almost through with school this quarter. Soon it will be time for dancing; time for cookies with peanut butter in the middle; time for hills; time for falling from large heights; time to rejoice loudly and vocally; time to decide in the middle of a night to venture into the abandoned woods and get eaten alive by Jiminy Cricket, the famed and alleged bear that roams the woods and, legend has it, ate thrity children in one lonely, dark afternoon; time for lists; time for music and whistling poorly; time for silly away messages that refer to a television program I watched recently; time to eat a large bag of potato chips and regret it soon after; time to trip on my shoelaces; time to not actually ever leave the house; time for love and time for hate; time for joy and time for sorrow; time for throwing CDs with free AOL at cars we're not particularly fond of;time for snowball fights and bloody retinas; time for intervening police and questionably dubious ideas; time for bad movies and Little Debbie; time to reflect; time to Jazzercize and, time permitting, Mousercize; time to discover all the letters on the keyboard and what they actually mean, not only in the English language but as they pertain to my life and my choices; time for Yoga mats, but not for Yoga; time for boring video games and boring web sites and boring television and boring boars (not really, but that totally had to be there, and soon you will understand why); time to write "Wash Me" on someone's car in the frost, even though frost does not imply a dirty car, simply a frost-ridden one (the true statement should be "Scrape Me" or something to that effect, but "Wash Me" is the foremost message written on cars, I imagine, and thus is the first thing that comes to my mind, dusty or not); time for spitting; time for somersaults; time to spin; time to throw Belgian waffles in the air and catch them in my mouth; time for chocolate syrup and imagination; time for fireplaces and rhubarb; time for semi-colons; time to enhance my blanket-wearing abilities; time to chortle; time to shoot bugs out my nose; time to realize the error of not only my ways, but yours as well; time for passion; time for exhiliration; time to eat something other than Top Ramen; time to work on my knuckle-cracking; time to expound, far too much; time for reading books and learning songs and smiling from this ear to this ear; time to get into all sorts of mischief and make Old Farmhand McLellan shake his fist full of porkchop at me and say "One o' these days, by cracky!" then have a heart attack; time for multiple chins - one ain't never enough!; time for over-used punctuation and under-used asterixes; time to read comics and play board games; time to invent a new kind of frosting - Frost-O-Awesome-FrockingFrost! - and put it on all manner of cakes, unbeknownst to the masses; time to expand my knowledge and to get a brain transplant; time to make boistrous untrue statements at the top of my lungs with my fingers pointing in all directions; time to get secretly angry at my door but never tell it; time for me to sleep for a really long time and wake up a magician; time for lawlessness and dapper outfits; time to give back to the community that which I find myself taking again and again (and again); time to get a job and make some god damn mother fucking piece of shit ass-munch hole-in-side-of-buttocks tinkle-berry la la lucy fuck-fuck-on-a-fuck-fuck money to keep my sullen ass from being broke; time for water-skis, not to use, just to sit there; time to rekindle my love affair with sneaking around on my tip-toes; time to roll myself up in a carpet and jump off a bridge; time for drugs, alcohol and corners of rooms; time for happy!

Actually, it's likely time for me to do what I've been doing all this time: Shit.