Today in ELA, we made random shit out of pipe cleaners and straws. My group consisted of Mariana, Dmytro, and Felicity. We made a pig. Her name is Jennifer. Mariana kept her. Also, Mrs. Barranca was gonna pick a name out of a hat of who was collecting the baby photos for the yearbook. Mariana kept saying that she wasn't gonna be chosen, then she ended up being chosen. This will be used to both of our advantages. Especially, when my little rat boy hands in a picture of himself as a rat pup. With my luck, he'll probably end up not handing a photo, and I won't get to see my little rat pup.
To quote Mariana:
" In conclusion, it be like that sometimes."
Lunch got me so heated today bitch. Let me just fucking tell you. I was standing on line, trying to get my lunch, yeah, yes, y'know, right? These ugly ass little 7th grade boys were standing behind me. One of those dumb ass bitches kept fucking poking my back, and I turned around, but then no one said anything. The third time they did it, I didn't turn around because I knew these little bitches just wanted the attention that they're deprived of in their little beat up crackhouses at home. I thought to myself, "if this bitch touches me again, I'll beat his fucking ass so hard that his balls fucking drop. Don't try me, I will make you my whore." Luckily, I wasn't tapped again, because I would not have kept my promise to myself. I don't like fighting. I'd rather some bitches just stay in their fucking lane.
Unfortunately, after that, this group of other fucking 7th graders waltzed the fuck on up, and one of them asked "Can I go in front of you?" I said (not fucking loudly because I'm shy and very fucking passive so it was basically a fucking whisper 😝😛😛🤪🤪😜😝😛😙😎) "no." And this bitch just fucking ignores me and goes in front of me anyways. He takes his whole fucking crew. I wanted to beat their asses so bad. Their little annoying faces. It's okay, though. I got my grilled cheese.
In chorus, my mans got taken out 😔. He's now back in Drama. Gabby left too. Our teacher, ( i don't remember his name) was testing us to see where our voices where. I fucked up my shit because I do not technically know how to sing, so I couldn't match the notes on the piano. He was nice about it, though. He labeled me as an alto.
In Italian, Dmytro got mad because we kept telling him that every word meant either streetlamp or dinner. I don't know what his problem was, because there are actually FIVE 🤘ways to say dinner. He isn't as educated and Mariana and I are, though.
"She saw me in my eeyore onesie."
