| Songs of the Month |
| Well, I've been sort of lazy with this one, mostly because I can't work on my website with my Mac yet. I have to get new software. Anywho...here we go. |
| These songs are still so much under construction, mind you. Teresa and I made songs up of one another and they are chock full of inside jokes but yeah it's an ode to Teresa. Chelsea by Teresa Chelsea, She likes icecream and she eats it all the time Chelsea is a lesbian and she wants a piece of mine Chelsea has a midgit hiding in her underwear Chelsea, oh , Chelsea, won't you show what's under there? Chelsea go back to the penitentury Chelsea is my roommate and she eats up all my food Chelsea, oh, Chelsea put away those four foot boobs Chelsea is a lesbian and she drinks way too much wine Chelsea'd be arrested if bad handwriting were a crime Chelsea made a sign and hung it on my tampon tree Chelsea's really crazy and she's kind of scaring me. Chelsea go back to the penitentury Oh, and by the way Chelsea isn't really gay but she still gets on her groove with me every single day. _______________________________________ Teresa by Chelsea Teresa--why can't you remember your keys? She smoked pot on the pot she don't know what she's got her hair's from a box when she's bored she paints rocks she wants sex in her bed but she cleans instead her sex life is dead so she must clean instead yeah, clean, instead. Teresa why can't you remember your keys? She locks me out of the house for three hours she locks her keys in the car and really needs a shower oh Teresa how smelly you are and she can't clap worth a crap PEEEEEEYOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU Oh Teresa why can't you remember your keys? |
| Some one else's stuff: (really good and so much better than mine.) |
| Requiescat Oscar Wilde (184-1900) Tread lightly, she is near under the snow, speak gently, she can hear the daisies grow All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair fallen to dust Lily-like, white as snow, she hardly knew she was a woman, so, sweetly she grew Coffin-board, heavy stone, lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone she is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear lyre or sonnet all my life's buried here, heap earth upon it |
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| My pittiful contributions: |
| Picture of the Month |
| This one is dedicated to Nick. Hehehe. |
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| The Lovely Teresa |
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| _______ This randomness is the outcome of boredome. Sometimes we would just sit around and look at each other and find stupid things to laugh at. It's really quite pathetic. We weren't even drunk when we wrote these songs...and they're very idiotic. Please, don't ask. ________ |