Ay yo iz mdawg n' i be guest writin'.

When I was five, or so, I lived in this smallish house down the street from an elementary school with my giant dogs and parents. My parent's bathroom had like, a seperate little toilet room thing, ya know? It was in the bathroom but there were doors that seperated it from the sink and shower and bathtub and stuff. The thing is, though, the doors looked like this:

Yeah. Totes wild wild west, yo. So I'd go in there and stay all day long until my parents walked into their bathroom, and when they did, I'd pop out, scare the shee' out of them, and yell "this town ain't big enough furr the two of us!" Yeah, I was adorable.

Am I supposed to write something about childhood now? Okay. Uh. Childhood, as you may know, is so easy for most. No worries or anything. Just doin whatchoo wanna do and getting praised for everything/getting presents from everyone all the time just because you're cute. And then you grow up and are replaced with new and more adorable lil people and you don't get random presents anymore. Sob. but not really.