I’m writing a teeny little thing about my childhood for a reason too dumb to even go into, and to help me out with facts and spellings I’ve been doing lots of Google searches. I just looked back at my last hours’ worth of searches and they make the most perfect poem about my first 18 years:
gila monsters
low-lifes
drug you make by heating a spoon
drug that sometimes causes houses to blow up
sugarcoat or sugar coat
Phoenix razing desert 1 acre per minute
ornamental orange side effects of eating
“bread cereal”
do people really go to prison for tearing labels off mattresses
shooting guns backfiring bashing forehead
You’re all grown now, kiddo. Things were crappy all those years ago, but now you’ve got the pretty kitchen and the cupcake papers and it’s all over. No one’s ever going to make you shoot a gun again. Repeat repeat repeat.
damn those ornamental oranges. they are all over this city. I have two of those trees in my yard.
I assume no side effects from eating them, except that they taste horrible, but now I feel the need to Google side effects of eating ornamental oranges.
I was forced to hunt when I was little. I hated shooting guns/killing. The cub scouts was super fucked up. And I’m So glad I didnt do 4h. You do have a pretty kitchen and a very pretty dress. Oh and a kick ass yellow mixer.
I have that same yellow mixer!!