(Untitled)
Ugh. Sweating over a stupid neuroscience lab, which may possibly end up teaching me something -- I have serious doubts -- but which at the moment is just making me sleepy and frustrated and irritated with myself for not having planned my time better. RARRRGH
( Read more... )
He was looking for Poo(h).
2. I wrote about this in my livejournal years ago, actually. It was from the first My Super Sweet Sixteen party ever held, which happened to be hosted by two girls I'd known since we were tiny and on the same soccer team and religion class. (http://signorinakatina.livejournal.com/28733.html)
So here is the excerpt:
On my way out of the bathroom this guy who I didn’t happen to know said, “Hello my lady.” I thought that was cute because it’s so old-fashioned. Anyway he kissed me on the cheek and then I introduced myself and he shook my hand and kissed it. He was very good looking and obviously a surfer: tan, chiseled features, blond hair. He was wearing a tux. I smiled, admired his physical beauty, and then left, thinking I’d never see him again. But no! He found me in the crowd and convinced me-me, the one who never dances-to dance with him. Now I think perhaps my inhibitions had been lowered by things like the oxygen bar. Or something. Anyway, we sort of danced but whenever I tried to talk to him he had the most boring, vague answers. Example: “So what sort of things do you like to do?” Him: “Oh everything, baby.” He kissed me and I was beginning to find him disgusting despite his rock-hard body. I said, “I don’t want to be on MTV making out with someone I don’t even know.” He said, “Well then maybe you shouldn’t be here.” That was it. I left him, and he acquired some whorish girls.
3. This:
Reply
Leave a comment