One homework assignment down, one to go. I'm going to wing a 3 minute presentation on a half-read book and I'll still probably kick ass. Sort of like the essay I wrote on the Pardoner's Tale, which I didn't even read all the way through but still got a 99/100 on. I don't even have to try in that class
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Coming soon to an aerosal can near you . . . Bridgette! She sings, she dances, she's black, and now she's available in a travel sized spray-can for your convenience. Also, available in 'Oh No You Didn't', 'Don't Make Me Go Ghetto On Your Ass' and 'Bitch, Say What?' And then they'll be selling me in small baggies with zig-zags and flavored papers and it's only a hop, skip, and a jump until I'm available in hookah bars across the world . . . 'What would you like? We have lavender, rose, apple . . .' 'I'll take the Bridgette, please.' 'Sure thing.' Next thing you know . . . Tonight on 9 News . . . Another teenager is dead tonight after OD'ing on blackness. Cause of death has been directly linked to this new fad of . . . inhaling the essence of Bridgette. In small doses Bridgette is harmless, but apparently Bridgette was never meant to be smoked in large quantities for long amounts of time. And in other news . . . Wow . . . I'm on crack. Must be all the Bridgette I'm ( ... )
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Good thing that I helped invent this, we'll be rich some day.
Manda
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