Scela muicce Mac Da Tho
Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair...at this point I've typed "not fair" so many times that it's beginning to look like a mysterious Gaelic word: "nót faír," whatever it would mean...and by the way, Scela Muicce Mac Da Tho is not a curse but simply the title of a story about the wondrous pig of some Irish chieftain.
Anyway, Zoe and I were industrious enough last night to find a photograph of Luc's new girl. When it comes down it, pettiness figures with prominence among my lack of virtues. She wasn't even pretty! If she could make a claim to beauty, then my indignation would be pacified - I wouldn't be able to compete in the looks department. (This degree of materialism in myself surprises even me. Actually, it shames me too. I can't believe that I'm capable of this cattiness.) My irrational reasoning, petulant and shrewish too, is muttering under its breath as it paces around the corners of my mind, "Luc, if you don't even want a pretty girlfriend, then choose me."
I probably speak too soon if, at this moment, I deem Operation No-Name a failure. However, given my current mood - vacillating between dejection, unreasonable righteousness, and the-cat-peed-on-my-purse feeling - I think it would be best to adjourn this journal entry in favour of cookie-eating.
Anyway, Zoe and I were industrious enough last night to find a photograph of Luc's new girl. When it comes down it, pettiness figures with prominence among my lack of virtues. She wasn't even pretty! If she could make a claim to beauty, then my indignation would be pacified - I wouldn't be able to compete in the looks department. (This degree of materialism in myself surprises even me. Actually, it shames me too. I can't believe that I'm capable of this cattiness.) My irrational reasoning, petulant and shrewish too, is muttering under its breath as it paces around the corners of my mind, "Luc, if you don't even want a pretty girlfriend, then choose me."
I probably speak too soon if, at this moment, I deem Operation No-Name a failure. However, given my current mood - vacillating between dejection, unreasonable righteousness, and the-cat-peed-on-my-purse feeling - I think it would be best to adjourn this journal entry in favour of cookie-eating.