I drove to Chicago. Picked up Becca. It is very hot here. I want to kill the hot. If I had a knife, I would plunge it into the hot, then I would punch the hot and stomp on it.
I drank a grande java chip frapachino. I got it from a starbucks drive though. Becca said that it was very "soccer mom," then I talked in a lispy voice, pretending to be a soccer mom, but the accent didn't work out the way I wanted it too. I've been having troubles with accents. Let me rephrase that. I am no good at accents. English, Scottish, Australian, Irish. I always sound like a dying, demented clown with a sore throat. I threatened Becca telling her that I would talk in a fake British accent our whole time in England. I think I will. I will tell everyone else that they sound funny and that they sound speak properly.
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