I Wish You 72 Days of Happiness, Baby North West

  Right now it is Monday, August 19th, 2013, 11:35 a.m. I call this the first day of the rest of my life. I already made some drastic changes, but there’s something in the distance that makes me want to change. 
  Whatever. I’m supposed to be reading Isaac’s Storm to be able to get into English Honors. I don’t really feel like reading, but I know I have to get to it. I’m putting it off like God is with Armageddon. I know I’ll do it. Eventually. Sometimes I pray to Him to just make the world end before my mom realizes I came home way past my curfew. I think He assigned a cupid to listen to me. Stupid cupid. It doesn’t deliver my message. 
 Don’t you ever wonder what God thinks when He sees humans being stupid? I bet He was cringing when Kim Kardashian was leaning over a toilet puking out her silicon-filled butt. “Kanye! I’m pregnant!” Oh crap, here comes another one…
 I’m fine with babies coming into the world, but I’m against idiots having kids. I mean, Kim Kardashian having a kid? Is she going to get rid of this one after 72 days also? 
 Poor child. That poor child will be friends with Michael Jackson’s doctor by the time she’s two, popping pills into her mouth when Kim starts calling out for her to come eat dinner. I wish you 72 days of happiness and glee, Baby North West. Everything goes under after 72 days. Just ask Kris Humphries. 

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