Cruel Intentions ***


Saturday, March 13, 1999, 2:43 pm

So far, all things considered, it's been a pretty productive Saturday. It's not even mid-afternoon and already, I squatted my butt off at the gym. Maybe I'll even get chapter nine done today, but I figure, what the hell, it's Saturday. Fun fun fuct.

It almost wasn't a productive Saturday. Gramma wanted me to go with her to Uncle Sam's memorial service. Usually Mommy goes with her to those things, but Mommy had a golf lesson and Gramma absolutely fucking refused to re-schedule. It MUST be at 10 am. What fucking difference did it make if it's half an hour later?

I swear, ginko biloba.

Mommy ended up not going golf. Her electrician friend is here right now installing motion sensor lights to our garage and back patio. Gosh I love the blue collar class. I can't understand a fucking word they're saying.

Anyway, Gramma decided not to wake me up and instead had my aunty take her down to the church. I'm not looking a gift-donkey in the mouth or anything, but shit, she could have at least told me yesterday. We went to the early movie, I came home early, I slept early, all for nothing.

But at least I didn't have to go to the church. Their minister is the most god-awful boring person on the planet. And his nihongo lisp is so fucking thick, even Kitsune's knife collection can't cut it.

Not that I have anything against organized religion. It just bores the beejeezus outta me.

You know what? I have nothing to report. Absolutely nothing. I think it's connected to my new sleep pattern. I've been sleeping like a normal human lately and well, nothing's happened.

I swear the echinacea helped my cold though. Melonhead said that all the herb does is nothing but then again, Melonhead thinks he knows every goddamn thing on the planet. Don't you fucking hate people like that? They seem to have oodles of information about every single subject on the planet.

"Wow, there's fighting in Bosnia."

Melonhead: "Oh I went to Bosnia. It's not that bad..."

Whatever.

Actually, I think I'll take a nap.

*i'm contractually obligated to update my journal even if it contains absolutely zero nutrional value*

Cruel Intentions was dumb dumb dumb. But fun. Not all that horny, but fun.

cigarettes: cutting down, cutting down
legs: sore
wallet: no $$$ whatsoever
last book read: The Hunter by Richard Stark

Spunker
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