Being a bad girl is a lot of fun.

A friend and I had a splendid visit to the Shell station right beside our school.  This was a most adventurous escapade for it is Banquet Day (perhaps a blog tomorrow).  We got out at 12:30 and parents or brothers who were supposed to take us home had not yet arrived .  My friend and I decided to be bad girls.   It was an awesome time.  My school has put up and stupid, ridiculous chain to keep people from cutting corners and saving the grass (and it is not working one bit, the grass is a bunch of dandelions *cough*weeds*cough*). We went under the net instead of around it and walked to the Shell station (which I am not supposed to do……).  Ooh, it felt good to be bad.

While inside the gas station, my accomplice and I read  every single one of the shirts out loud, took them off the rack, and rearranged them.  I would just like to say that those shirts were ridiculous, dumb (I need some new adjectives), and had bad grammar. After taking our fun with the shirts, we looked at all the (redneck) hats and read them aloud as well.  I felt as though we were being a nuisance and bought some ice cream out of guilt.  If I buy something, they can’t throw me out, now can they?

Being a bad girl is a lot of fun.

Even though, by the title you probably thougt I meant something…worse.