Oh it's Saturday, it's Saturday, a hun-hun-honey and a ha-cha-cha!

I like Saturdays in which I have choir in the morning.
Well, except the being really really tiredness, and the hunger until they serve lunch. Other than that, it's great. I always feel really close to my choir somehow, even though I don't know all of them that well.
Mrs. Jay was telling us that one song that we sing (It's called Christmas Bells, and the text is by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and it's now one of my favorite poems, and song) had to be more light and airy. I think she might have said fluffy. Then Lil, one of the girls that sits near me, said at the same time as the Unknown, "Fluffy Puff Marshmallows!" Fluffy Puff Marshmallows are something from Homestarrunner.com, if you didn't know. Most of the choir was like "Yeah!" I had no idea that the site was so popular.
And the definite plus to that is that Unknown has the same type of humor as me, for the most part. I pretty much knew that already, but it was cool all the same.
Okay, so he did think that the commercial where the car cuts the cat's head off is funny, too. That is entirely besides the point. Most guys that I talk to (I said most, not all. So if you're a guy, and don't think that it's funny, I didn't mean you.) do think it's funny. Maybe it's a guy thing. Killing kittens must awaken some weird primordial instinct in them.
Although you'd think it would awaken at the zoo or something, where the animals are actually semi-wild, not with some kitten. But I never claimed to understand boy's minds. I don't even understand girl's minds, actually. I think I'm some different breed from the rest of the world. Either that or I'm an alien. Which would explain a lot. Either that, or I was switched at birth with some other child. But then my little sisters wouldn't look so much like me.
At the meeting after choir, this guy came up and told us a lot of stuff about China, since we're going there, and all. It was really interesting, and he was funny.
*yawns* I really need to get over my seeming need of sleep deprivation. I don't understand why I can't ever sleep, but I'm always tired.
I'm probably dying. Prob'ly (I love typing it like that) no one will even come to my funeral.
Or maybe everyone will come, just like the people did for Tom and Huck and Joe. They'll all realize how great I was, and how they didn't appreciate me. Why, just today my own mother and father ignored me.
Man, if my being tired doesn't get me killed, that last comment will. It's been a good life, anyway.