I don't want to. You can't make me. I'll burrow under my covers and use my cats as bodyguards. I will not emerge unless James McAvoy is before me with a platter of potatoes. Summer can suck my... thumb!
I'm sorry, I am not excited to return to school. I'm perfectly content with my summer of:
Sitting on my ass, watching French movies, crying because I'll never be as pretty or as talented as them, eating a lot, feeling guilty so I go wogging (a combination of walking and jogging, I know, it's brilliant, I expect my Pulitzer to be arriving shortly, I'm sure it just got lost in the mail), dancing madly in my room, harassing my cats, eating some more, jiggling my fat in the mirror, crying because there's so much to jiggle, reading Harry Potter, watching Harry Potter, pretending I'm Harry Potter, going to sleep, and waking up and doing it all again.
After all these life enhancing activities what could school possibly have to offer me?
Your faithful blogster, Jacob.
