5 weeks until my 21st birthday and this is what I demand.

1 motorcycle. Preferably one of those fun lil crotch rockets. I like speed... and not just the kind that comes in a pill form. But if you buy me one, I might never come back. So if you hate me and never want to see me again for the rest of your life, it's rather easy to just get rid of me in a legal and painless way... buy me a damn bike.

Buy me a couple of bottles of liquor, some drugs, a carton of smokes and send me on my way. Oh yeah, and a calling card. I'll give you a shout from Arizona or Yellowknife or Mexico... wherever the hell I end up.

Fuck school, I probably won't graduate anyways. And if I wasn't gong to complete my degree, might as well go out with a bang. Or a roar. Whatever sound my bike will prefer to make, that is what I'm going out with.

Yes, little ol' me... wimpy girl by day, biker girl at heart.

If you can't afford a bike, I will take whatever little trinket you feel like giving me. I am not picky. Really. Hell, a hug and a couple of sweet words will mean more to me than a card and a gift certifiate.

But seriously though... buy me a bike.