May 7, a day.

Heydy hodey Zack and Cody! I'm wearing basketball shorts with the pockets around my shins, stylin it up dog. I have a friend who once told me that the slumping the shorts look was invented in prison as a way to let other inmates know that you were romantically available. In fact, he tells me all kinds of weird fun fact type stuff, and then he raises his eyebrows while waiting for you to gasp or laugh or generally worship at his feet for knowing all this weird fun fact type stuff.

"Did you know that a duck's quack doesn't echo, and nobody knows why?"

EYEBROW

But he's one hell of a man, to say that he is taller and stronger and faster than me, so you can bet that the eyebrow gets the reaction it's wiggling for.

I have ISS tomorrow, which actually won't be that bad. You sit in a room with some of the worst-behaved kids in school, so of course they don't care at all about those 'DO NOT TALK' signs, and the ISS "teacher" rarely does anything to take back control from the kids. Then when she leaves to go eat lunch, a huge black guy named Mr. Polk comes in to sit at the desk and keep everyone in line. That's a fragile line, my friend. And this guy doesn't care at all, he leads the conversations in there, he cusses at us like we're all viking buddies on the way back from a good ol' village rape. It's a really stupid way to punish kids, but what else can the school do? Every other form of punishment has inevitably been illegalized. Pretty soon when you get in trouble, they'll just pat you on the back and send you to a magical place where you don't have to do any schoolwork, where you can just sleep all day, a place with the cleanest bathrooms on campus! Except for, wait, that's exactly what they do now.

I've lost some weight recently, and as a result a lot of my clothes don't fit. So if you know any 180 pound eighth graders who need to stock up on Scooby-Doo t-shirts, let me know.

I've decided not to write any more.