My keyboard's gone. My room is emptying. I can't quite do anything even vaguely productive.

I must be moving away.

Tomorrow. I don't even know when my flight leaves exactly, but I'll be leaving on that jet plane, heading to DC via Atlanta thanks to the friendly folks at Delta Airlines. I believe that "yay" simply does not express my supreme elation well enough.

What's more, I haven't been able to bury anything even remotely hatchet-related. This has made me quite sad. I think I'll try to bury a pen later tonight. They're sharp and pointy, right? They can do some of the jobs hatchets can do, right?

I wrote a haiku about leaving, and I think I'm going to share it with you.

Eating chicken, bitch!
Hell if I'm gonna help you!
I don't wanna pack!

Pretty awesome, huh? I think I'm going to submit it to the next poetry contest I find, cause quite frankly, it's going to make me some skrilla. Copyright protections apply, and I'm scouring the winning entries in poetry contests across the globe, so if you enter this thing, I will know, and I will have your ass on a plate.

You know what? In my eternal awesomeness, I was inspired to write another haiku! This one's about goats.

Bah ram ewe? Say what?
Sheep are better than goats? Nah...
Goats are teh 1337, n00b.

You remember what I said about the last bit of beautiful poetry? Good. Same applies for this, except I will also remove at least one testicle for this one. If you're a woman, I'll remove a testicle of your nearest male relative. No one messes with goats.

The Muses gave me creative light to yet -another- haiku just a second ago! This one is about my hot sweet rage.

I'll boil your spleen
And tear out your intestines
And chew your eyeballs.

Same rules apply, bitches! Except for this one, if you violate dear copyright law, I will be forced to gnaw on your lungs until you begin coughing up blood, at which point I will let them become infected as they are exposed to open air. I will then give you antibiotics so that the infection is almost stopped, but then will cut the dosage and allow the infection to come back and destroy your pathetic body.

I hope college is 1337. I should call Fred(erick).

Hasta la byebye.