The weekend started with Saturday when I got to go help my youth pastor with youth rec soccer.
My mother, being the silly women that she is, said I would probably not get to play much.
SHE WAS OH SO WRONG. Then in the later part of the day I went to Kelly Clements
birthday party and ate 16 taquitos. Then Sunday I went to church and came home and played
with Ashton.

THE END

so my friend comes over on sunday to hang out w/ me and looks at my sisters art and says
"I didn't know you guys collected art". And I said we don't, that's my sisters.

"Oh I hate writing it's no fun at all, the consept of it kills me it leaves me in aw, I can't stand to write I think I'll just die, I hate it cuz I'm a guy!" We need (both physicly and mentaly)
to run wild six-teen hours a week, minimum.

I'm fifteen years old and I love to hang w/ my friends.
I love to play w/ my dog and run in the woods w/ him even though I get chiggers.

I have dirty-blond hair, and I'm alive

I love fall and all of it's features. It's not to hot and it's never to cold.
The changing of the leaves is beautiful. I love it.
There that's for sentences.

I'm going paintballing on saturday and I need a new barrel for my gun.
So today after PE i'm going to (hopefully) get one.