Today, instead of writing a prompt for a Cormack McCarthy book in AP, I wrote a letter to my English teacher outlining why my life sucks. It's so pathetic, you know, complaining like this. I feel so guilty when I think about all the really really poor people and all those starving kids in those other countries that don't have emotional pain to worry about but physical pain -- the problem of staying alive from day to day, getting enough to eat.
I have a senior prom date now. I didn't for a long time and then I did. And then I didn't. And then I did again. At first, I was going with this guy I've known for a long time, Anthony. He lives up my street and we've been friends since the 7th grade. I've always liked hanging out with Anthony because he makes me feel good about myself. He's become very cute recently. So when he asked me about senior prom, and we both admitted we had no dates, it was very easy to say "You want to go with me?" and then he said yes and everything was wonderful because now I had a date. But three days later, he leaves a note on my car: "I have to talk to you." The six worst words in the world, right? Of course. So of course he can't go.
Now, I consider myself an extremely strong person and it is very rare that I break down and cry. But I did. I cried all afternoon. And then I called up my buddy Kelly (see below) and Kelly, the godsend that she is, hooked me up with one of her fellow employees and now I have a date. The problem, however, is that I have never met this guy. I know his name and I know what he looks like and that is as far as my knowledge extends. And I'm on the rag. It makes everything seem just a little bit worse than it actually is.
This was what I was typing before I sat down to watch Queer as Folk. And then I got caught up in a lot of web business and creating a new layout for my site and ...building a new blog with a less stupid name:
I'm getting ready to watch Queer as Folk (which, by the way, is awesome), but I thought I'd throw in some type until I'm ready for that. So I was thinking as I usually do when I'm guarding and actually made some notes on my ankle when I was in the guard room so this should be a fairly eclectic, long entry.
What I would like to talk about first is the fact that Dave is very arrogant about ...well, about everything. And it annoys the fuck out of me that he called Counting Crows (my favourite band) too pop for him. I could have smacked him, but no, I just nodded and gave him a "well, that's your opinion" look. Ohp, gotta watch my show. Be back in 45 minutes.
