No, You *Can’t* Take My Jim-Jams!
No no, not my Moo pajamas or hyperactive spazzy anythings.
That above line is true. People who won’t even talk to you despite being best mates with you in the eighth grade, grow lust in their eyes at the sight of Jim-Jams in your lunchbox.
Creep up, look around. Your friends are helpless, jump to the enemy. Recess time seemed like I had a placard stuck on my head that said, “HAR-HAR! Come steal my biscuits!”
And even after I offered two and saved one for myself, they just scrambled for the box anyway and snatched the last left jelly cookie out of the aluminum cover.
It’s not like I’m Joey, but I was just a little too into my own universe today at school. Classes are boring, there’s nothing *happening*. So all I do is doodle in my French notebook and try and solve exercises there.
Happy birthday Vora 🙂
Again, here’s to Jinx for happily reminding me that urbandictionary does after all exist. And that post of yours just prompted me about that whacko conversation we’d had with the not so dead drunk Santa.
And once you’re on that site, it’s hard to stop laughing and click that little red cross on the upper right side of the virtual window.
*Searches around for the cellphone*
I’ve got to put up “La Rouge Nuit” soon.
x EdgyShark x