I did the following poem to piss off my English teacher, because it's practically a tradition of mine to drive crazy every person with a liberal arts degree... ever. Life sucks! Vote Republican! People shouldn't have to pay for other peoples' mistakes! Listen to Pantera and sacrifice virgins to Satan! Blaargh! By the way, this poem did get her pretty confused. Success! I even scored a reccomendation to the next year's yearbook squad for this kind of thing.

A Modus Operandi for Objurgatory Exultation A literary nonpareil by Yours Truly Ingredients: A bailiwick of irascible yeomen A demesne of insurrectionists A diminutive iota of extirpationatory contrivances Some latitudinous eloquence An abecedary who misconjectures my being A myriad of adherents And a nexus of bedlam.  Directions: Stir up the insurrectionists with the already irascible yeomen until bedlam occurs. Once that is complete, send the extirpationatory contrivances amongst them until Abaddon bursts forth. Rise to omnipotence and addle the proletariats until phase three. Then, perpetuate the position as long as humanly possible and into the beyond. Viva la Katie! Viva la revoluçion! Rise forth, cataclysm, and assimilate all who oppose the new queen!

TRANSLATION:

A Recipe for Benefitting at the Expense of the Lesser Folk A literary masterpiece by me, Katie. Ingredients: An empire of uneasy peasants Quite a few anarchists A very small amount of extremely powerful weaponry The proper use of very large words A teacher who doesn't understand this, or me for that matter A large amount of allies And a chain of events leading to catastrophe. Directions: Stir up the anarchists with the already uneasy peasants until catastrophe occurs. Once that is complete, nuke the holy frickin' crap out of them until all hell breaks loose. Rise to godlike power and mesmerize the commonfolk until phase three. Then, maintain power as long as I can unless I can somehow become immortal, which would be pretty sweet. Long live Katie! Long live the revolution! Rise forth, apocalypse, and absorb all those who oppose my newfound power!

At the last pep assembly I was forced to attend, there was this really fat cheerleader whose fat rolls jiggled as she jumped in the air. Half the school was sitting behind her, and a countless number of them went "ohhhhhh" and were disgusted by this sight. The next day as we were discussing it, one of the (Ch)(qu)eerleaders threatened to punch me in the face if I kept talking smack about the fatso prep, despite the fact that my two best friends right next to me happened to be a city girl with karate moves and a 300-pound schizophrenic, ready to tear that skank limb from limb if she got within two feet of me. Being the kind of person to let others do my dirty work for me, I instead vented my rage in another bit of inspired poetry. We have it memorized with choreography and everything. Cheerleader's Chant Hey! Hey! Look at us! Watch us as we shake our butts! Our hair is blonde, our eyes are blue, We always get the boyfriends too! We shake our pom-poms when we're happy But the marching band makes us look crappy! We're the school's biggest hoes, We waste time at pep rally shows! We're so skinny you might think We barf up all our food and drink! Not always though, 'cuz one is fat, She could make some mountains flat! We're always the most skimpy dressed, We're as smart as T.K. West! We lost our brain cells in gymnastics But our legs stretch like elastic! 2! 4! 6! 8! We can count to number 8! That's as high as we can go, Wish us luck on our next show! We're really shallow and not too bright, We bark too much but we can't bite! Gooooooo team! Woo! *No apologies to the (ch)(qu)eerleaders. Don't threaten me, preps!