(no subject)
Alright, so I'm home sick and I honestly have nothing better to do than sit here and update this blasted journal. And frankly, I don't have much to say, so I'm just going to ramble.
Last night, I saw "Wild Hogs" in the theatre..in a word..DONOTSEEIT. It was the dumbest, most un-funny movie I have ever seen in my life. EVER. (Yes, this includes some of the crap I've brought to sleepovers, Pat). I'm pretty sure the only people who would find it amusing would be middle aged men who want some adventure...and yes, that's what the movie was about. Go figure.
So this morning, my mom comes in to wake me up and I tell her that I had been throwing up throughout the night and can't go to school. Okay. So she has a nervous breakdown because she thinks it's because I ate some week-old pasta last night. Okay mom. Whatever you say. So I go back to sleep, to be woken up by a phone call from Amanda at 7:55 asking where I am, because I take her to school. GOOD JOB ME! So I fling myself out of bed, RUN down the stairs, barefooted, pajamas, looking like a hobo, out to the car which still has frost on the window (which I neglect to scrape off, but I digress). So I drive Amanda to school with her laughing the whole way about how hideous I am at the moment (I'm sick and barefoot, come on!!) and I pull in the back of the school where basically EVERYBODY is watching me because..I mean, really, what else is there to do? And of course, Dr. Brown is standing outside and sees me drive past and gives me a disapproving look. Whatever. I own the man, so who the hell cares? I'm sick, damnit!
Anyway, I had a really weird dream last night. You know the librarian in the school? (Yes). You know the grandmarrrrrr who hates me? (Yes.) Wellllllllllll, in the dream I was at grandmar's house folding posterboard when I realized that there was some garbage under the couch so I scooped it into the folded posterboard to throw it away. Low and behold, in the mess was the librarians wig, which I prompty tried to hide because..yeah, I stole the librarian's fake hair. Fuck me and my dreams.
Not gonna lie, though, I've actually been pretty damn productive today. Organized my music folder which I've been meaning to do for a long time, then organized and deleted some poems I've had typed up (I used to be so melodramatic, but again, I digress). Kept and edited the good ones. Made some toast. Ate said toast. Gonna clean my room and do the homework I didn't do over the weekend in a bit.
Seriously, my life has been reduced to school. Band. Homework. Work. BAH!
Not that I mind work, I really don't. It's a great job. But when you're standing for a grand total of approximately eight hours and you have brats going "HEYYY YOU DONT KNOW WHAT A SUNSHINE SMOOTHIE IS I GUESS YOU DONT KNOW WHAT YOURE DOING" and the line is out the door, it's sorta tiring. I'm mostly complaining because this week I'm working MADD HOURS!!! So it's a little annoying. BUT THE MONEY IS GOOD BECAUSE IT IS GOING TO A SHOME-IN-THE-HOME TATTOO YOOOOOO! What is good, oh what is really good.
I'm off to make some mix cds. Until our heroine updates again, OR, Until our heroine starts barfing again, OR, Until our heroine gets a life worth writing about.
Last night, I saw "Wild Hogs" in the theatre..in a word..DONOTSEEIT. It was the dumbest, most un-funny movie I have ever seen in my life. EVER. (Yes, this includes some of the crap I've brought to sleepovers, Pat). I'm pretty sure the only people who would find it amusing would be middle aged men who want some adventure...and yes, that's what the movie was about. Go figure.
So this morning, my mom comes in to wake me up and I tell her that I had been throwing up throughout the night and can't go to school. Okay. So she has a nervous breakdown because she thinks it's because I ate some week-old pasta last night. Okay mom. Whatever you say. So I go back to sleep, to be woken up by a phone call from Amanda at 7:55 asking where I am, because I take her to school. GOOD JOB ME! So I fling myself out of bed, RUN down the stairs, barefooted, pajamas, looking like a hobo, out to the car which still has frost on the window (which I neglect to scrape off, but I digress). So I drive Amanda to school with her laughing the whole way about how hideous I am at the moment (I'm sick and barefoot, come on!!) and I pull in the back of the school where basically EVERYBODY is watching me because..I mean, really, what else is there to do? And of course, Dr. Brown is standing outside and sees me drive past and gives me a disapproving look. Whatever. I own the man, so who the hell cares? I'm sick, damnit!
Anyway, I had a really weird dream last night. You know the librarian in the school? (Yes). You know the grandmarrrrrr who hates me? (Yes.) Wellllllllllll, in the dream I was at grandmar's house folding posterboard when I realized that there was some garbage under the couch so I scooped it into the folded posterboard to throw it away. Low and behold, in the mess was the librarians wig, which I prompty tried to hide because..yeah, I stole the librarian's fake hair. Fuck me and my dreams.
Not gonna lie, though, I've actually been pretty damn productive today. Organized my music folder which I've been meaning to do for a long time, then organized and deleted some poems I've had typed up (I used to be so melodramatic, but again, I digress). Kept and edited the good ones. Made some toast. Ate said toast. Gonna clean my room and do the homework I didn't do over the weekend in a bit.
Seriously, my life has been reduced to school. Band. Homework. Work. BAH!
Not that I mind work, I really don't. It's a great job. But when you're standing for a grand total of approximately eight hours and you have brats going "HEYYY YOU DONT KNOW WHAT A SUNSHINE SMOOTHIE IS I GUESS YOU DONT KNOW WHAT YOURE DOING" and the line is out the door, it's sorta tiring. I'm mostly complaining because this week I'm working MADD HOURS!!! So it's a little annoying. BUT THE MONEY IS GOOD BECAUSE IT IS GOING TO A SHOME-IN-THE-HOME TATTOO YOOOOOO! What is good, oh what is really good.
I'm off to make some mix cds. Until our heroine updates again, OR, Until our heroine starts barfing again, OR, Until our heroine gets a life worth writing about.