Kindergarten Cop II
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Aw, Davenport Again?!
Holy Fucking Davenport! I only have one more month before I (once again) have to face that awful gangsta/redneck of a city. It's for my birthday though, maybe there'z a great chance my mom will take me to best buy and I'll be able to finally get the deluxe edition of Anthrax's Among the Living (that comez with a DVD of a 1987 show, from that tour), but I kinda wonder if best buy will even have this classic..... I could always just get another Walking Dead trade-paper (if I don't have them all by then). No matter what I'll only have fun at night, when everyone's in bed, when I spend the next 5 to 6 hourz making youtube playlists and smoking lots. Will my only DP friendz call me up this time? I don't know! Will my mom bitch about everything in her usual loud tone? Most definitely. The best part about davenport is not doing a damn thing besidez drinking in a dive bar, that may possibly lead me to seeing someone from high school I either didn't know or didn't want to know. The TV is occupied by my stepdad until he goez to bed and my mom spendz her computer farmville time until no onez around to buy or loan her pigz, then she triez to check her email and then, after numerous sighz and face rubz, she hugz me goodnight and sayz "don't stay up to late". I shouldn't even let this bug me, I don't even know what TV showz are on anymore besidez Law and Order and The Walking Dead, and the computerz not mine, but my mom will continuously say "I'll be off soon, so you don't have to be bored." "I'm not bored", I say as I'm drawing profanityz in my notebook or songz my mom will never like or hear. She also proceedz to bitch. I await for everyone in their house to shut the fuck up and go to bed, so I can do thingz they wouldn't approve of, just like I'm 16. I haven't even gotten to the grandparentz yet.... will itz usually me getting asked the same questionz I've already been asked by my mom or stepdad AND I HAVE TO ANSWER THEM AGAIN!!! Then comez dinnertime where the kitchen is an ocean of constipation and sighz where my mom, sweating from cooking (and won't except help from otherz), yells that dinnerz ready and standz in peoplez wayz, as they are trying to make their plates, and askz "what do you want on your tacoz?".This will be the vicious cycle as long as therez a davenport with family in it.
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