(no subject)
Today was my niece's first birthday.My God.. I am firm with the belief that children under two
should never interract.
Kacey and I were the "odd-men out", so to speak. While every other party-goer was socializing and rounding-up a toddler here and there, we sat and exchanged looks that said it all. However, Kacey has a knack for being the belle of the ball, and I have a knack for being quite shy.
So, I was left to fend for myself for a majority of the time.
All I really did was pay close attention to the time and look on as everyone cooed at the children. A sixteen year old girl isn't much of a prized sight to adults when the house is filled with such cherubs as babies.
Cherubs; my ass they were cherubs..They fought over toys and screamed and spat; the sight made me clutch at my abdomen and damn myself if I ever have kids.
Secretly, I was hoping Sophie would stop by and give me a reason to leave. She was in town, and she had intent on coming to see me, but all I heard from her was a phone call later in the day. I grew so desperate that with each minute, a new name would come to mind as my saviour, and I must have eaten more then my fill, since my stomach is twisting and turning as we speak.
On a lighter note; last night was far more interesting than today-
My mother was up late with me, which was surprising, since she's usually down at 9 and I trudge on until 2 or 3. She was talking to me about dating.. God knows why.. and she was telling me about her first week in Lewiston. She was eighteen, on the run from her crazed husband of forced-marraige, and had dated about eight other men before my father called on her.
Of the men's nick-names, I caught "Fu'quet", which sent me into a fit.
Mum told me that on their first date, she was anxious to see if he'd come with his motorcycle (she had a thing for motorcycles.. and, lo' and behold, Bob Pelletier is the motorcycle king.) and she was waiting for him on her front porch. She heard the motorcycle engine down the street and she went outside--
To see him ride up the street with a banged-up motorcycle with twisted handle-bars, blood on the sides of the bike, his shirt ripped and his leg mangled up.
Of course, I started laughing, and she scolded me; but, oh-- let me go on..
He hit a fucking dog.He hit a German Shepard with his motorcycle.Not only did he hit the dog and kill it, but he kept goingTo pick up my mom.
Dating is under-rated at times.
should never interract.
Kacey and I were the "odd-men out", so to speak. While every other party-goer was socializing and rounding-up a toddler here and there, we sat and exchanged looks that said it all. However, Kacey has a knack for being the belle of the ball, and I have a knack for being quite shy.
So, I was left to fend for myself for a majority of the time.
All I really did was pay close attention to the time and look on as everyone cooed at the children. A sixteen year old girl isn't much of a prized sight to adults when the house is filled with such cherubs as babies.
Cherubs; my ass they were cherubs..They fought over toys and screamed and spat; the sight made me clutch at my abdomen and damn myself if I ever have kids.
Secretly, I was hoping Sophie would stop by and give me a reason to leave. She was in town, and she had intent on coming to see me, but all I heard from her was a phone call later in the day. I grew so desperate that with each minute, a new name would come to mind as my saviour, and I must have eaten more then my fill, since my stomach is twisting and turning as we speak.
On a lighter note; last night was far more interesting than today-
My mother was up late with me, which was surprising, since she's usually down at 9 and I trudge on until 2 or 3. She was talking to me about dating.. God knows why.. and she was telling me about her first week in Lewiston. She was eighteen, on the run from her crazed husband of forced-marraige, and had dated about eight other men before my father called on her.
Of the men's nick-names, I caught "Fu'quet", which sent me into a fit.
Mum told me that on their first date, she was anxious to see if he'd come with his motorcycle (she had a thing for motorcycles.. and, lo' and behold, Bob Pelletier is the motorcycle king.) and she was waiting for him on her front porch. She heard the motorcycle engine down the street and she went outside--
To see him ride up the street with a banged-up motorcycle with twisted handle-bars, blood on the sides of the bike, his shirt ripped and his leg mangled up.
Of course, I started laughing, and she scolded me; but, oh-- let me go on..
He hit a fucking dog.He hit a German Shepard with his motorcycle.Not only did he hit the dog and kill it, but he kept goingTo pick up my mom.
Dating is under-rated at times.