I've decided to start writing in bigger and bolder fonts since I feel that it's about darn time I do. I'm sick of my tiny no good black 'average' font all poopers use. I am no stinker. I use blue font.
I've already conformed to blogging society and find myself back with the average go-to font. I guess I am a pooper or a classy traditionalist! I actually don't think I would like to be either of those. Poopers often smell awful and they rarely have fun. Classy traditionalist seems sort of boring. All they would do is go to tea and talk about how women are SUPPOSED to act and SUPPOSED to dress. Seems like I'm more of a pooper if anything. I do smell awful.
Here are some photos that I took of myself in my backyard today. As I ran out with my tripod and my platform heels on. The disturbing man who lives behind my house is out on his back-porch. He sits there all day long smoking cigarettes. I sort of laughed since I was curious to his reaction since I had this long space cadet white jacket on that my mom had made. It had shoulder pads. It was rad. I couldn't make eye contact with him since I felt extremely uncomfortable enough that he was watching me do my business. I'm sure he thinks the same thing every time I go out there. 'That girl needs some friends'. I would have to agree creepy blacken lunged dad. I wouldn't really call him a dad. I'm sure all his kids are at least 40 now and live in Ohio. He really gave me the heebee jeebee's though. So, I just scooted off into the more secretive part of my backyard. I did my thing for about 20 minutes, got cold, and went to grab all my things. As I was walking up to go inside, the lunatic comes back outside just to get his final glance. Literally, probably his FINAL glance. I'm sure he's thinking it's his last time he might ever see a freak. They are rare in these sort of times. What am I talking about though? He's a hick from winnetka. He gives little girls heebee jeebee's and goosepimples. If I know a freak when I see one, I thought I was looking right at one. I feel bad for the cigarette who has to lay into between those crusty dead lips of his. He clearly knew what he was talking about though. I do need some friends.
Hey there, my name is Hettie. I'm 15 and like many things. I enjoy going to shops to find odd gadgets that will probably end up in a goodwill bag a month later. I would say I like art. I am not an artist, but in the future would like to earn recognition to call myself one. I like dirty jokes and talking about dirty things. If your favorite subject to talk about is barf or poop, call me. Girls rule and boys droll. I am not a lesbian. I understand why people think that though. Satan excepts everyone for who they are. Music is cool too.
HETTIE
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