*shrugs*

It's 1:23 a.m. and I can't sleep.
I'm 'reading' for my assignment. I'm 'talking' to people on MSN. I'm 'thinking' about 'life', 'the universe', and 'everything'.
I have to write an essay for Wednesday. And go to work tomorrow. And stop lying to my father. And talk to my sister more often.
And I'm thinking I hate not knowing what to do about things that need doing. Or how to fix things that seem to need fixing. Or how to know if something needs fixing or if I'm just imagining things or if maybe I think too much.

Phew.

My sister vomitted today. Maybe that's why this post reeks so much - just 'thrown up' on here - LIKE PUKE. (get it?)

Maybe one day I'll look back on this with fondness. But just in case I don't, always remember Dunja, "I told you so."

"It's like a bandaid. Just rip. Yeah, it'll sting for a bit, but imagine if you let it scab over?" - Dunja, January 31, 2006. 1:33a.m.

You're going to let it scab, aren't you?
Gosh. You're such an idiot.

...and I have a new favourite

Hands down, yesterday was the best day I can ever rememeber.

"I'll always remember the sound of the stereo,
the dim of the soft lights,
the scent of your hair that you twirled in your fingers
and the time on the clock when we realized it's so late
and this walk that we shared together.
The streets were wet
and the gate was locked so I jumped it,
and I let you in.
And you stood at your door with your hands on my waist
and you kissed me like you meant it.
And I knew that you meant it,
that you meant it,
that you meant it,
and I knew,
that you meant it,
that you meant it."
-Dashboard Confessional

I never want to forget what it feels like to be me right now.

turns out, i'm not

1. I'm still a size 7. Just that one particular pair of 7s didn't fit some odd reason. I went back to the store and tried on one size up - and it was too big. And then I tried the same old size, and it fit. And I was like "WTF?" literally, because now I'm actually SAYING "WTF?", and some guy at work was like "Maybe you farted in between fittings."
Maybe.
2. I hate people who wreck my t-shirt piles as much as I hate people who don't undo their shirt buttons when they bring their stuff in for drycleaning. I'm okay with people checking stuff out, and unfolding shirts - IF IT'S ONE SHIRT FROM EACH PILE. NOT THREE OR FOUR. THEY'RE IN PILES FOR A REASON - THEY'RE ALL THE SAME. YOU DON'T NEED TO LOOK AT FIVE OF THEM. OMG.
3. People often mistake me asking them if they need help with something for genuine helpfulness. I'm not trying to be helpful at all though - I'm just trying to prevent you from WRECKING MY ENTIRE T-SHIRT PILE, YOU BASTARD. Hence, if I'm offering you help, it most likely just means I think you're an idiot.
4. At the store, we don't work on commission, so it really doesn't matter to me if you're just there to look. But please, DON'T say you're just there to look and then proceed to wreck every display in the store. LOOK. CAREFULLY. Don't touch if you can't touch reasonably - and then go ahead and leave empty handed. I really wouldn't give a shit if you did that. But when you wreck everything AND don't buy anything - well that's just salt on the wound. (And you leave me no option but to curse you and your entire family for an eternity.)
5. I hate people who literally only come to work to look pretty. If I suggest that you fold one pile of shirts, don't stop there! Take the initiative and fold another! And ANOTHER! Stupid lemmings.
6. Along the same vein, if you see a problem: fix it. I shouldn't have to point out that you're standing in front of a t-stand where virtually every pair of jeans hung there is now on the floor. Just because it's not in your immediate job description doesn't mean you should ignore it. I realize your job is to "Greet customers", but there's really only so many of me who's job it is to "Clean up retard's mess", so if you could help me out once in a while, that'd be great.
7. My feet hurt.
8. I didn't want to subject you all to this, but Ramiro made me.
9. Yesterday dinner with Zeebs and Paul was fun. This sums it up, "Around and around we go."
10. I think I might have to re-do my G1 and G2. OMG.
11. I need to stop saying OMG in real life.

Cognitive and Affective Bases of Attitudes toward Social Groups and Social Policies

I'm getting fat.
And uglier.
And I spent $109.69 on two tops and a bottom today and didn't even flinch because someone had convinced me that was a deal.

The pants don't fit.
Because I'm fat and thought I was a size I am no longer. And will probably never be again.
I like chocolate.

In other news: I hate showering.

This entire business, of today, and getting through it, has got me thinking that if God woke me up tomorrow and offered to turn me into a pig, I'd take it.
The fatter you are, the better. And everyone expects you to be filthy.

And you know what else? I still haven't finished my homework. But my legs hurt, and my eyes hurt, and my head is spinning. I have THREE owies, and no one wants to hear about it.

It's true guys, it's true.
But it's also fine guys. It's fine.

Welcome to 2006

It seems like everything I say is so blatant and obvious and unnecessary, and like everything I do is so programmed and over-used and routine, and everything I type is so cliched and pathetic and useless...
This blog is a chore.
My family is a chore.
And so is school and so are friends and so is fun and so is boredom, and sleeping, and eating, and sitting on the toilet - it's all one giant chore.

Except for you.