Of all the mysteries of the universe, one in particular bothers me the most. And that one is how PE got to be a class. There is no such thing as Physical Education, or at least that's not the class I got into. The one I'm in is How To Embarrassingly Realize That You Have No Athletic Skill And Your Gym Teacher Has No Interest In Helping You At All But Would Rather Just Flirt With The Junior Varsity Volleyball Girls. It should be HTWRTYHNASAYGTHNIIHYAABWRJFWTJVVG not PE. I personally think that PE should stand for Pointless Excercise, because that's about all that's there. Its about as helpful as an arm growing out of your piano and stabbing you as you feverishly try to learn how to play Fur Elise four seconds before your recital. "Pull down your pants and count to one!!" Says the sparrow, as she flies from the trees. This is the story of Shameequa. Shameequa is a regular girl wh- ''Daamn right I'm a reglar girl! Uh-huh, damn. Indnknow who you is, buh Imma go get maself a nice pair o extensions! Damn! Yo dats hot, yo! End o story! Damn! Dats ill!" Umm, okay. that's the end of the story I guess...bye Shameequa.. "I SAAID Da story is OVUH!" Okay, okay. moving on. Shameequa reminds me of a girl I once knew. Actually, unfortunately, I still know her. It's this girl named Everyone In Our School. you may know her. She's a real bitch, I hate her. I hate her as much as I hate urinating on a bowl full of live crickets. And as much as I hate school itself. I dont care if the whole school just crumbles and falls out my ass. I'd rather be at home playing Zelda. I'm talking ORIGINAL Zelda. The 1986 one for Nintendo. That game is better than the entire world. yes, even better than naked toddlers running around raping and pillaging old ladies. Its classic. I'd love to go to school and shoot arrows at people. Flaming arrows. I'd tie oily rags to the tips and light them and let fly. That reminds me of a pet Hen I used to have. Now THAT's a funny story. Her name was Robert, and she laid about four roosters an hour. I don't mean laid as in came out her ass, I mean LAID. Robert was one slutty hen, she was. She told me I could be a really good doctor. and I am! What, you have the flu? Well, I will lure the flu out of your body and in to my car and what I do with it then is MY BUSINESS. Guess what. I saw Gould, the hall monitor driving an ambulance last night. No joke. Yeah, I was out practicing driving. I accidently crashed into his ambulance, sending it reeling into a large pool of kerosene and fire. He cursed my name as he was consumed by the now flaming pit of death formerly known as the drivers seat. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. I'd say he lost that one. The same way I lost my virginity to a tadpole named Clark. But we won't get into that. OR will we? No, we won't. Hell, my dog could teach you a thing or too about flying airplanes. So could my fat math teacher. But my dog's better at it. He's a kamikaze dog. He flies planes into famous landmarks, and dies each time. So far he's done the Statue of Liberty because she's hot, The Washington Monument for his own reasons, and the Eiffel Tower, because it sucks. I believe he was drunk each time, but I'm not supposed to say that, because he's only 4. Hell, I got drunk when I was 4. Didn't you?