2002-11-12 at 9:32 p.m.
The sun's as warm as a baked potato.
I think I know precisely what I mean,
When I say it's a Shpadoinkle day.
Cannibal! The Musical was on TV last night.
And today, I simply could not stop singing that stupid damn 'It's a shpadoinkle day' song.
Damn you, Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Damn you both. To hell.
In other news, it's precisely two weeks until my final recital.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Eep.
And how did I spend the day? Carefully avoiding doing much practise at all.
Makes sense, huh?
I always knew my brain ran on a series of hamsters, wheels, and rubber bands. But now, I think one of the rubber bands has broken. Or a hamster has died in there. That would certainly explain a few things. The smell, for example.
When I say it's a Shpadoinkle day!
When I say it's a happy-go-moigally lucky Shpadoinkle-ly...dayyyyyy.
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGH! Get outta my head!
