Former home of the compassionate telepath
9.19.2003,12:25
I'm sick.
No, don't be cute, I'm not really the depraved type, I happen to be genuinely, bonafidely ill. My throat is swollen up to almost twice it's normal size. I'm also at school. I guess maybe I should go home, but that would take more energy than just hanging around until French class. blah.
I gave Miles a haircut last night, which was fun exactly because it was so random. I also went for dinner with my mom, her boyfriend, 2 of 3 sisters and my grandpa and his fifth wife. Going anywhere with my family is never unstressful. We didn't get to the restaurant until 8:00, I didn't get home until late, and still had homework to do, so therefore I got very little sleep. I hold this at least partially responsible for my current state of un-wellness. I also got to watch my roomate and her boyfriend have a fight. Seems like lately I'm just trying to see how many extremely uncomfortable situations I can wedge myself into. bleh.
My mom's latest boyfriend says I'm hiding from something and that because I'm a libra I should watch out or I'll end up with fat hips. I was like, thanks, I need another complex. I have one more social event planned in the near future, and then after that, it's crawling under a rock time. I don't feel fit to be seen in public. blih.
AND, TO THE EVIL CELL PHONE BITCH OUTSIDE OF BUCHANAN YESTERDAY:
Thanks for swinging your bookbag into my face and sending me flying down the stairs. I have a huge gross gash on the bottom of my left hand that is still oozing, and my right knee is so purple I'm now anxiously watching the sky incase the one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater happens to be out hunting, since I now qualify as valid prey. Also, you caused all 8 of my remaining cigarettes to fall into a fairly substantial puddle and be rendered completely unsmokable. karma will get you, evil one. bloh.
Between the fever-induced tenuous grasp on reality, the oozing hand, and the limp, I'm a fucking basket case. I guess that means it's time to go write my french composition before I have to go to class. bluh.
If you see a brain on a string floating by (think Mr. Garrison's head in the LSD episode), grab it. It's mine and I'd like it back at some point. blyh.
No, don't be cute, I'm not really the depraved type, I happen to be genuinely, bonafidely ill. My throat is swollen up to almost twice it's normal size. I'm also at school. I guess maybe I should go home, but that would take more energy than just hanging around until French class. blah.
I gave Miles a haircut last night, which was fun exactly because it was so random. I also went for dinner with my mom, her boyfriend, 2 of 3 sisters and my grandpa and his fifth wife. Going anywhere with my family is never unstressful. We didn't get to the restaurant until 8:00, I didn't get home until late, and still had homework to do, so therefore I got very little sleep. I hold this at least partially responsible for my current state of un-wellness. I also got to watch my roomate and her boyfriend have a fight. Seems like lately I'm just trying to see how many extremely uncomfortable situations I can wedge myself into. bleh.
My mom's latest boyfriend says I'm hiding from something and that because I'm a libra I should watch out or I'll end up with fat hips. I was like, thanks, I need another complex. I have one more social event planned in the near future, and then after that, it's crawling under a rock time. I don't feel fit to be seen in public. blih.
AND, TO THE EVIL CELL PHONE BITCH OUTSIDE OF BUCHANAN YESTERDAY:
Thanks for swinging your bookbag into my face and sending me flying down the stairs. I have a huge gross gash on the bottom of my left hand that is still oozing, and my right knee is so purple I'm now anxiously watching the sky incase the one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater happens to be out hunting, since I now qualify as valid prey. Also, you caused all 8 of my remaining cigarettes to fall into a fairly substantial puddle and be rendered completely unsmokable. karma will get you, evil one. bloh.
Between the fever-induced tenuous grasp on reality, the oozing hand, and the limp, I'm a fucking basket case. I guess that means it's time to go write my french composition before I have to go to class. bluh.
If you see a brain on a string floating by (think Mr. Garrison's head in the LSD episode), grab it. It's mine and I'd like it back at some point. blyh.
