Feckless arghes-san and the always-kun.

I think Kunnie and I are having a cold war.

Well, I'm not too sure.

But we've not said anything since I've got her off Thales (she was hogging onto him) and (honestly) unintentionally bumped that bulky granny chair against her limb. She really had no idea on what catwalk respect is, tsk.

I think she thinks I'm another "Samantha". Hell with that.

There's a game tomorrow morning. I am really doubting her attendence for it. She'll refuse to get up all over and I will disregard her behaviour on the whole.
Like totally ignore her, totally.

Aye. Aye. Argh.

This is really wimpy. But at least she doesn't read my blog.
All for the night, I would have preferred it more delicate.

I just hope that when God brings in the Sun again, He'll drag out that stinkiness in us as well.

I can bet you that tomorrow, I'll start talking to her again, as if nothing did happen.
Why you ask?
Because we always do things together; we always laugh like retards together; we always upset our Mommies (and put that smile back onto her face all over again) together; we always skit out our favourite commercials together (and with Brother Bear); we always laugh at the same jokes together.

Well, come to think of it, we do almost everything together.

Somehow, I know that if God can bring in that Sun we (dread) every morning (but I really love it now), I know he'll make us talk to each other again tomorrow morning.

Oh, you just wait.

Then it'll be us and just our talking cats and mute fish all over again.

Ciao.