April 05, 2002 :: 2:04 p.m.
I got me some horses to ride my grilled cheese on
Blah. My dad came home for about 15 minutes, but he left a bit ago, so the house is once again mine. I'm listening to Tori in the living room; wonders upon wonders! I never listen to music in the living room, mostly because I do not like other people hearing my music. It's a private thing of sorts, and I do not enjoy invasions of my privacy. Also, my dad always has the radio on, thus preventing CD insertion. But no matter. As soon as someone comes home, I'll scurry back to my room and listen to Tori there, and all will return to normal.
My mom called a while ago and asked if I wanted to go shopping. I was tempted, as I really do need a few more pairs of jeans, but I kind of want to wait until I lose some more weight to buy any clothes. Because it would make me happy to be able to buy a smaller size. Superficial, yes, but what female wouldn't be happy to fit into a smaller size? So yeah, I declined. I'm also not really in the mood to shop today, so it's just as well.
Meow. Rufus was wailing pitifully, so I let him out for a while. My mom made an appointment to get the little boy fixed, because he's spending way too much time outside to remain intact. I do not need to be responsible for any impregnated female cats, though if the circumstance arose, I would squeal with joy and scoop up the kittens and run away with them. Aww, baby cats. I'd rather have the gray kitty that's been hanging around, though. He's my buddy. I will have him, dammit. I will! My mom said that when Joe takes Rufus back, we can take the stray in. Yay.
I need to stop being a bitch toward Adam. I've been in a bit of a funk or a depression or what have you for a while, and all of my irritation/aggression/whatever has been taken out on him. This = bad. Girlfriend faux pas, even. (Why did that statement amuse me?) I don't mean to do it, really, but it's like... I don't know. It just happens. I need to get a punching bag or something. Grrrar. Actually, I need to just snap out of this badness and resume my regular not-so-bitchy manner. I'm not sure how to do that, though... boo.
Hotmail is being a slut. Let me check my email, dammit! Argh. I think I want a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. So bad, so fatty, so delicious. Mmmm. Maybe half a grilled cheese and some grapes. But I don't know if I can go for just half of a grilled cheese... I love them. Yummy. Ah, fuck it. I'm going to have a whole one and love it.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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