Down He Goes

I did it. And I’m not going to lose focus. 1:57 and the win. He wasn’t as gracious this time. I won’t get into specifics, because that race strategy stuff probably bores you to death. You’re here to hear about my zits. About my shortcomings that I have no control over, right? OK. I’m lame. I’m writing on Friday night. It’s about 10p.m. and Mags and I are gonna go catch a movie, then come home and probably watch another movie and fall asleep on the couch.

BUT, let me brag for two seconds. I just ran on his hip the entire race, then as we were rounding the final corner, I literally said, “Let’s give ’em another show…” I have no idea why I said that. Perhaps unsportsmanlike, but I meant it sincerely. Then I took off, and it was total reversal of last time we raced. I pulled away slightly at the end when he knew he wasn’t going to out sprint me to the finish… Hang on…

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Hey everyone, this is Maggie. Will you all please help me in convincing Mr. F*** My Zits that he needs to change the title of this blog post?

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Nice. Tough rocks, chick. If you have a problem with it, you can get your mind out of the gutter.

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Um, who was talking all evening about the back row of the movie theater?

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OK. That’s enough of that…little harlot. We’re gonna get, but I need to allude to a “surprise” that my parents are taking us on in the morning. I have no idea what it is, but knowing my parents, it will strangely exceed my expectations and be nothing that I thought it would be. Yes. I’ll be along post-prom (at some point…probably Monday) to offer some love.

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I’m not a harlot, but maybe someday I could be.

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