Peter Costello's father was a chicken
First off, congratulations on my parents not killing each other in 25 years of marriage tomorrow. Go for gold, I say.
Also, my sister did not in fact bid for a corset, but for a tartan lingerie set. And she so totally won the auction. So I just spent 20 minutes on the phone getting her credit card details so I could pay for her. PayPal = Awesome. I'm so making her get me some Wizzart stuff for Christmas.
Stretch likes to be dominated, that kinky boy.
I don't think I'll go to the YAA ball. Let's be honest, there's 3, 4 people who want me there? So there's no fucking way I'm wasting $60 on a ticket. I'll choose Wil Anderson and ice cream over that any day.
I'm always amazed at how quickly my room can go from awesome to messy as hell.
And in relation - I own so many fucking clothes, but never have anything to wear. HOW IS THIS? WTF, LIFE, WTF.
Couldn't get transport for choir this afternoon since a). parents = shitty and b). I'm broke and can't pay for my own taxi. Why would I have to pay for my own taxi from school? Refer to point A.
Tripping Over = GOING TO BE AWESOME.
LMAO at all of our TV shows at the moment being all "OMG. AND THE BEST PART? WE GET TO SEE IT AT THE SAME TIME AS AMERICA!" The OC, DNA dramas, you name it, we lame it.
Guess who's got a trip to the uniform shop tomorrow? Urgh. I hate the uniform shop.
I missed Grey's Anatomy *DED FROM TEH BAD* SOMEONE PLEASE SPOIL ME!
And last but not least, my back hurts and I don't feel like brushing my teeth again, I've done them twice already. Fuck lentils. Let my teeth rot into mungbeans.
The lingerie my sister bought:
