keeping promises

Ok, so I'm kind of fearing for my life right now. But I'll explain that later, first:

Does anyone here need a bookshelf? Honestly. Anyone? If you do, come to my house. I'm giving one away. You wanna know why?

Do ya?

doyadoyadoya??

Because I got a brand spankin' new one, that's why!!!

And it's purty. It's big and large and tall and big and enormous and wide and big and pretty and big and brown and big and big and big and big!

It has 6, nice, long shelves.(It's six feet tall!) It covers, like, half of my wall (and this is a pretty big wall.) But this is where the fearing for my life comes in. You see, I've mentioned it's big, haven't I? Well, it is. And, standing next to it, I feel intimidated. Small. A minuscule amount in this big wide universe of ours. I feel like it's going to collapse on top of me at any second and I will be crushed and trapped and won't come out for years (but I'll have plenty to read). I think, I might make a game out of it. "How Long Until You're Crushed??" Great game, right? And once I do get crushed, another game: "Can You Spare Your Oxygen?" You see, these are question games. Games to be played when you think you already have an answer. These are games like "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" except, better, of course.

But these games have something regular games don't. They involve books. They involve the actual intelligence it takes to read. I mean, come on, anyone can answer questions like "Who won the Superbowl in 1982?" or "What is the scientific name for a panda bear?" and, I kid you not, these are actual questions on the computer version of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?"

But it takes someone real special to be able to *gasp!* read.

I'm telling you, I could make millions with this game. Billions, in fact.

Wanna play??

But, moving on to something that won't make you feel bad for your lack of creative skills in coming up with amazing games, oysters are slimy and disgusting and gross. The only ones I like are the little, itty bitty ones. I mean, this kid Jaimie was like slurping them up and chewing them and it was absolutely...vomit-inducing.

Well that and his ridukulus southern accent. "Ya seeee, we gots these bigol' ersters an' Ah lurv ta jus' slurp emup. ther reely guhd. ya don' geddem like that her"

I swear, he said that. And, I beg to differ. Our oysters are big, and salty, and the best in South Carolina (or so I hear, seeing as I don't actually eat them) I mean, HELLO, it is the seafood capital of SC and oysters are seafood. But, hey, go ahead believing what you want "Jaimie"

Big, fat, skinny hick. :D

And he had a Zac mustache. You know, one of those little fuzzy ones that are just visible on their pale skin? The ones that look so ridiculous on some people? People like Zac? or Jaimie? (and, yes, they would look ridiculous on your sister, but that's not who I'm talking about)

You know what I mean, SWANGIRL??

I had to do it. I had to refer to you/her anonymously.

But I hope this post was up to your standards, caroline. I really do. I hope it was worth the false hope that I gave you, just like the fireworks show in Epcot has false endings (LIKE 10!!!!)

humming accio deathly hallows, transferring books to my new bookshelf, nodding to the music inside my head,
♥Heather