(no subject)
I had the weirdest dream EVER last night.
I was sitting in my dorm room, reading, when all of a sudden I heard some really loud rap music. So I stepped out into the hallway and it turned out to be the set of a rap music video.
Intrigued, I decided to stay outside. There were these women in neon green furry bathing suits all around, which I thought was funny. Then, somebody said "Action!" and this huge black man comes running down the hallway, with no pants on. That in and of itself was quite weird enough, but Cindy Brady was chasing him down the hallway, laughing this horrible, evil laugh. She jumped on his back and all of a sudden, the doors at the end of the hallway opened - that cheesy fog-smoke stuff was pouring in and Ludacris came in. All the women ran up to him and started singing, and he started rapping. He was wearing this huge neon green leather suit, and diamond necklaces galore.
Then we were suddenly outside in this flowery field, and Ludacris was wearing a Superhero outfit, and he was chasing Cindy Brady around the field.
It was the weirdest thing ever. Ever.
There are so many things that I could be doing. I almost feel like cleaning my room. Or writing my essay.
I read Storming Heaven over the weekend. I loved it. Surprisingly. Upsettingly. Because I will have nothing about which to complain on the first day of school.
One week.
Camping on Wednesday. With Brian.
I have a secret admirer.
I should call and find a ride to practice.
I. Hate. Nair. I keep a bottle on my desk just to look at it and think about how much I hate it. Damn you, Raspberry Raz-ma-tazz. You burn. You should be called Raspberry Rash-My-Ass.
Instead of doing one of the aforementioned constructive things, I'm going to go lay on my bed and listen to some music. Feeling okay.
Feeling sort of icky, cause I have eaten a lot today.
Feeling thirsty.
Feeling anxious.
Feeling like I want to wear my shamrock hat out somewhere.
Feeling like I should do something exotic tonight.
Practice, practice, scrimmage tomorrow. Catholic. I will hurt somebody, mark my words. Hopefully not myself.
I feel like buying a paid account just to say I have one.
It would be possible to have an infinite number of codes. You'd just have to have a lot of journals.
Even DeadJournal has codes now.
My god, I can't believe I wrote all of that.
Camp.Ing.
I was sitting in my dorm room, reading, when all of a sudden I heard some really loud rap music. So I stepped out into the hallway and it turned out to be the set of a rap music video.
Intrigued, I decided to stay outside. There were these women in neon green furry bathing suits all around, which I thought was funny. Then, somebody said "Action!" and this huge black man comes running down the hallway, with no pants on. That in and of itself was quite weird enough, but Cindy Brady was chasing him down the hallway, laughing this horrible, evil laugh. She jumped on his back and all of a sudden, the doors at the end of the hallway opened - that cheesy fog-smoke stuff was pouring in and Ludacris came in. All the women ran up to him and started singing, and he started rapping. He was wearing this huge neon green leather suit, and diamond necklaces galore.
Then we were suddenly outside in this flowery field, and Ludacris was wearing a Superhero outfit, and he was chasing Cindy Brady around the field.
It was the weirdest thing ever. Ever.
There are so many things that I could be doing. I almost feel like cleaning my room. Or writing my essay.
I read Storming Heaven over the weekend. I loved it. Surprisingly. Upsettingly. Because I will have nothing about which to complain on the first day of school.
One week.
Camping on Wednesday. With Brian.
I have a secret admirer.
I should call and find a ride to practice.
I. Hate. Nair. I keep a bottle on my desk just to look at it and think about how much I hate it. Damn you, Raspberry Raz-ma-tazz. You burn. You should be called Raspberry Rash-My-Ass.
Instead of doing one of the aforementioned constructive things, I'm going to go lay on my bed and listen to some music. Feeling okay.
Feeling sort of icky, cause I have eaten a lot today.
Feeling thirsty.
Feeling anxious.
Feeling like I want to wear my shamrock hat out somewhere.
Feeling like I should do something exotic tonight.
Practice, practice, scrimmage tomorrow. Catholic. I will hurt somebody, mark my words. Hopefully not myself.
I feel like buying a paid account just to say I have one.
It would be possible to have an infinite number of codes. You'd just have to have a lot of journals.
Even DeadJournal has codes now.
My god, I can't believe I wrote all of that.
Camp.Ing.