•°o.O Lady K O.o°•

Kaitey dave --
[noun]:
A level headed person who always makes the wrong decision
'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com DISCLAIMER: I hate writing these things. If you read it a thousand times you won’t know who I am, so I guess it doesn’t matter that this’ll be a pile of wank…
I’m KaiteyFuckin’Dave.
I realise you never asked. But I’d have felt rude if I didn’t at least introduce myself.
I’m eighteen.
An age that means I trust no-one and get angry about things I can’t change, whilst also pretending to grow up. I am now officially in Peter Pan territory.
I like taking drugs.
But I don’t need to. Even if later in life I do choose to stop taking them, they’ll always have a fond spot in my head and my heart.
Drugs have lead to the hardest laughs, the “disaster to perfection” night, the most profound talks, some dirty videos, the best menthol fags, the hardest lessons to learn finally sinking in, the most hilarious dances you’ll ever see (nipple, twat, like her dad…), the tastiest sniffs, the best stomps, the most wonderful storms, the funny tummy feeling, the acid baby, the best comedown cartoon mornings, and so much more.
Maybe not everyone will understand this, since not everyone does drugs.
Maybe not everyone will understand this, since they didn’t do them the same way.
But the people who need to will understand that the best thing drugs have given me is some incredible friends. Most notably, my smoking buddy. Aka Fatty. Or Lily. Whatever. Either way, I’m certain drugs aren’t bad because a simple “wanna come back for a spliff?” was how we met. And I dunno where I'd be without her.
I like tea.
It’s tasty tasty good. But Unless you’re… Ian, pretty much, I’d rather make it myself. I’m always scared that if I don’t do it myself it won't reach it's full potential. Especially since I like my tea to be made hot, hence why I usually hold the button down on the kettle after it’s boiled. I take anything between 3 and 5 sugars, depending on my mood. It’s usually 3, but my cup’s a big fucker, and Ian has small spoons in his house.
I have a boyfriend.
And I’m really quite fond of him. That’s pretty much all. Just thrown in there so you myspacefreaks know not to bother pestering me. Even the friendly kinda pestering, that just annoys me more.
I’m harsh to my friends.
They’re forever being bitched at, but they know I love them really. Except Dani, who apparently doubts it sometimes. I shall remedy this. DANI, I LOVE YOU, YOU PATHETICALLY STRAIGHT ATTEMPT AT A FAGGOT! Done. Either way, I like this quality in myself. It means I don’t feel as bad about my many flaws, and that people are less likely to point them out, for fear of getting “pwned”. And it means that I’m perfectly within my right to be a bitch to people I hate and get away with it.
I’m currently doing… nothing.
I don’t like doing nothing really, mostly because I hate putting excess strain on my already overworked father. Ah well… as soon as I find a job, it’s into the big bad world.
I aspire to do… nothing, really.
All my life I’ve been told I’m intelligent, and that I could be anything I want to be. I’ve decided that what I want to be is as stress-free as possible. I want a low maintenance job, a low maintenance home, and preferably no kids, because that’d just be more effort and responsibility. I have issues with motivation.
I get the feeling I’m overly aware of my mortality.
It feels like it’s too often that I have to say to the people around me – “it doesn’t matter. Which side of the room you decide to put the photo on, or which colour shirt you wear does not matter. You’ll be dead one day. Then no-one will give a shit which side of the wall they have to take the photo off of, or what colour shirt you’ll get burnt to pieces in.” It seems that I can use the reality of death, relay that into futility, and get out of most of my chores.
I’m fat.
And I have been my whole life, so it’s something I came to terms with ages ago. People say that your weight doesn’t change who you are, but that’s a lie. It’s human nature that we choose to socialise with those we find attractive, consciously or not. I’m sure (that’s a lie, I know for a fact) that over the years, my weight has caused people not to be my friends. I’m past the point of caring really. If they’re repulsed by the belly that keeps me company, they can stay well away from my chocolate buttons. Tis simple really.
I’m passionate about music.
But who isn’t?
I’m passionate about everything related to the English language.
If you use an apostrophe when you didn’t need to, I’ll point it out. When you say “itch” instead of “scratch”, I’ll point it out. If you pronounce it “supposably”, I’ll hit you.
These rules are there for a reason.
Oh, and messages sent with any of this “text talk” crap, will be completely ignored, unless they’re of vital importance… which is exactly what myspack lacks. There’s no need for it. The general purpose of a language is to ensure a general consensus on word meanings, so that people can talk and communicate and evolve and learn and laugh.
Not so you spoilt little brats can decide that “the” is just too boring and normal a word for you, so you’re gonna be ‘random’ and spell “teh” instead. I’ll only allow that kinda shit if you’re willing to talk like that. And that’s only because that’d be fucking hilarious.
And I love to read.
I am nothing more than the sum of my influences...
Which kinda sucks.