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Sometimes I have to spit while I am driving and so I do it in a minute maid lemonaide can cause what else am I going to do? The can has been there for a good four days and I refuse to remove because, well, then what would I spit in?

I spit due to my perpetual illness. my strand of whooping cough or ongoing allergies or perhaps it is, like I always say, cancer. My english teacher said cancer is a blanket term for many different illnesses.

At grooming school/work, I spent three hours bathing and fluff drying and giant standard poodle called Tiffany who just happens to belong to the instructor of the class. Now my arms are soar in addition to perpetual illness.

I hate a girl at work named Kristen. She is tall with big thighs and big bleached blonde hair and globes of eyeliner constantly gathered at the corners of her eyes. She is horribly fake. There is not a sincere word that exits her chapped, thin, ugly ass mouth. She says “african americans” and other racial terms that are so obviously politically correct. Another girl in that class today, while talking about her Dad, mentioned that he was black. Kristen, in her loud mouth fucking moronic stupid fucking voice, goes on to tell this girl how “oh, wow, you look totally white! I never even KNEW you were part african american”. She said it as if to compliment her on looking more white, which, by the way, is not true. my point is this: I only write about things I hate. and kristen is one of them. if you met her, you would hate her too.

in creative writing tonight, people read their poetry and short stories and everything except one sucked. a young black kid who wrote in street poetry style about a ballerina and a guy on a motorcycle making out. All the chicks wrote about falling out of love or not being noticed. I didn’t read mine but I probably will next week. the instructor is James Cervantes, who I googled and is quite a successful poet.

I would write more or at least end this but duty calls. and by duty, you surely know what I mean.

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I heard of an incident where the driver of a car stopped at a light and opened the door to lean out & spit. The large undisciplined dog in the passenger seat thinks “Oh boy, we’re getting out, me first!” and knocks the off-balance driver out of the car, which then proceeds by itself through the intersection with driver (and dog, no doubt) chasing it. Better to use a can. Davo