What Are This?
Really though, I only asked the question maybe a million times in my weird accent but does anybody know the answer to any of that? What are this? What are this? WHAT ARE THIS? Sometimes I don’t even have to be a dog to be confused, although most of the time when I am confused I am also a dog, don’t ask me to explain it it would take too long and I would probably end up telling you some side story about the time I went to Jamba Juice and was all like ahhhhh too many choices but that’s not important right meow. Anyways though sexual, how is your week going? It’s almost over sort of in theory maybe right so that’s a plus and then that means you can do weekend things like pull up the weeds in the yard even though you don’t want to but your mom is all like JENNA YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULD GO PULL THE WEEDS OUT OF THE GARDEN AND NOW ITS SUNDAY AND THE SUN IS GOING DOWN AND THERE ARE STILL WEEDS OUT THERE and I’m all like chill mom I don’t understand what’s wrong with weeds in the first place, they’re just like less desirable plants like what are that? That’s like some Nazi Germany style gardening if you ask me, like they’re fucking plants let them grow into a wild garden of eden and then snakes slither around in them and maybe more butterflies will come and be like, oh hey we found this non-discriminatory garden so let’s stay here and relax for a while, oh hey there’s that girl that we like, and then they come and land all over me especially the monarch ones because oh boy they are my favorite and one time in first grade we got to hatch them from their cocoons and there were like a billion of them and when they finally came out of their gooey sacs we took them outside but they couldn’t fly yet so they just sat on our hands flapping their wings like we were best friends with the butterflies and it was the coolest feeling ever until they were all like, nah man I got this, and flew away into the sky never to return back to upstate new york until of course they migrated back there because FUCKING BUTTERFLIES MIGRATE. How ridiculous does that make you feel. Because it makes me feel pretty damn dumb, this insect can find it’s way across the country and I’m like lost at a Jamba Juice somewhere not knowing how to get home or properly allocate my weekend time so that my mom doesn’t get so mad at me when I don’t get all the weeds out of her Nazi garden. Like what the fuck butterflies, way to show everybody up with your little goo brain. Figure out a car. How about that muffin hat that high fives a cat that I’ll boom boom pat into a furry flat made out of hey what’s that giraffe doing. I can never figure it out. Brazilian butt nipples.
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