Marcus: Marceresque TOO???
Hola Beeches,
I am trying to come back to Live Journal yet again. Here I will insert my most randomest of thoughts....oh this strawberry cream cheese is gooooood. Not really. That's a reference to Marie's mom. DEAL WITH IT.
Charlie the landlord was here and my annoyance grows up to the heavens and the heavens above the heavens that are only made for the most special of people (e.g. Mother Teresa and my grandmas!). I don't know why he was here, but he was in the basement. And Claire and Julia left so they didn't tell me I was here alone, and I hadn't even come out of my room to say anything to them. His wife, as we all may know, has that disease with the "alz" in it which I can't spell, so therefore I will not. Anyway, she kept opening my door, and then shutting it and I said "HELLO!" and everything, but she would just get nervous. I finally came out and talked and she asked me how long I lived there and all the types of questions that would be similar to ones my grandma would ask me when her dementia was at its worst. I was nice, but then Charlie would yell at her and I felt really bad, because I didn't really mind chatting with her and he just seemed really jerky. After he made her leave me alone, she opened my door a few more times and I just waved to her and continued to pretend work on my paper.
I don't like when strange numbers call me and don't leave messages. I know I should probably pick up, and that Ivana probably thinks I'm doob-ly lame, but the last time a strange number called me and actually left a voicemail, it was Charlie.
I watched "Run, Fatboy Run" with Jen, my mom and my sister last night. I think she's doing ok. We laughed a lot but there is just too much sadness in the world to deal with effectively. I have to miss class tomorrow night to go to Richard's memorial service. God, it's not right.
I am trying to come back to Live Journal yet again. Here I will insert my most randomest of thoughts....oh this strawberry cream cheese is gooooood. Not really. That's a reference to Marie's mom. DEAL WITH IT.
Charlie the landlord was here and my annoyance grows up to the heavens and the heavens above the heavens that are only made for the most special of people (e.g. Mother Teresa and my grandmas!). I don't know why he was here, but he was in the basement. And Claire and Julia left so they didn't tell me I was here alone, and I hadn't even come out of my room to say anything to them. His wife, as we all may know, has that disease with the "alz" in it which I can't spell, so therefore I will not. Anyway, she kept opening my door, and then shutting it and I said "HELLO!" and everything, but she would just get nervous. I finally came out and talked and she asked me how long I lived there and all the types of questions that would be similar to ones my grandma would ask me when her dementia was at its worst. I was nice, but then Charlie would yell at her and I felt really bad, because I didn't really mind chatting with her and he just seemed really jerky. After he made her leave me alone, she opened my door a few more times and I just waved to her and continued to pretend work on my paper.
I don't like when strange numbers call me and don't leave messages. I know I should probably pick up, and that Ivana probably thinks I'm doob-ly lame, but the last time a strange number called me and actually left a voicemail, it was Charlie.
I watched "Run, Fatboy Run" with Jen, my mom and my sister last night. I think she's doing ok. We laughed a lot but there is just too much sadness in the world to deal with effectively. I have to miss class tomorrow night to go to Richard's memorial service. God, it's not right.