The mutation is nearly complete. I'm too far gone. I can't read anything that is even remorelty grammatically incorrect without turning into ENGLISH TUTOR RAGE MACHINE and chopping people into nice linear pieces that I can sadistically arrange into correct, if slightly messy, sentences.
In other news, it's my birthday.Precisely nine people have said happy birthday to me in person today. You are not one of those people. No hard feelings, though. I expect a big present.
I know that sometimes I used to write, like, reviews of books on here, but I haven't really been reading any good books lately. Because all the books I've been reading are for school. Like I'm Not A Racist, But... by some guy named Leonard something, which reads like a twenty page paper that some guy decided to beef up into a book by adding several long words in indecipherable strings so that by the end of his convoluted, run-on sentences, you're completely lost and it takes about two more minutes after that to realise that with all those words, all he was really doing was restating the idea he already stated in the previous paragraph. It's dumb and I don't recommend it.
I finished my pencil skirt this week and I need some help figuring out where I'm ever going to wear it. What occasion would call for me to look like a sexy office aide who doesn't actually do anything but strut around in heels and look good? The answer is that there is no occasion for it. Therefore I'm afraid my racy houndstooth attire will have to hang in the closet for the rest of eternity. It's sad, really. I would have like to have made something, for once, that I would actually wear. Ah well.
-Amy Joy
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