Kiss me You're beautiful right now I don't know what to dress up for Halloween as. I really want to wear my fishnets and hooker boots (and not be a prostitute/angel/devil/"punk" girl, or some other cliched nonsense). Tarnation! Blast!

Today I actually tried to dodge the Placid Slut- I saw him coming out of the reading room the same time I was, (it's a miracle he didn't detect me while I was in there) and I ducked behind a pillar, immediately feeling terrible for doing it, and coming out and saying hello rather sheepishly. Lucky for me, he was busy though and ran off somewhere after giving me the slippery solicitation he usually does. It's funny, because the fact that I am with Mr. Pink came out a few days ago (monday) and though he was really disturbed about it, he doesn't seem to have taken that as a flashing neon light that shrieks "stop! Desist, or all your heart is going to be chopped up and pureed, along with your entrails!"

Also, I keep running into the dude in my Art H class that switched to my class because he though his former class professor was "inherently bad. She just gave me vibes that she was a distinctly evil person, and I didn't feel comfortable staying there under her tutelage."

*cough* Christian bullcrap!

I keep wanting to press the issue of his evil former prof further, except I get the impression that he's not a big fan of discussing the apparent sacrificing of babies she must have done in front of the class before he ran for the hills. Instead, he felt the need to tell me how bad he was at French, how to conjugate French verbs, and "gollee, did you know French was so hard?" I may be in the bad books though now, bless my lucky stars and dirty soul, because I told him that the easiest way to learn French was to live in a primarily French speaking place. Sure, that part isn't bad, but telling a Christian that the best French to learn right away, as a sort of initiation, is to pick up the profanity-coincidently consisting of words translated to "chalice, tabernacle, sacred blue (MARY), and, my God!" I didn't cite these examples, but told him how to say "shut up you sacred blue mother fucker."

Ok, I didn't tell him that either.

Suffice to say, I will never find out if Heaven exists, but I'm sure the hot tubs in the other place are wonderful. Thankfully, I don't think that I will have to make simpering conversation with that boy ever again.

I ripped my Clash hoody today...more than it was ripped before. Tear... I got sort of emotional about it, my sweater that is falling apart-the very beginning of my individual style revolution...hormones, egads. I need a new hoody!! If I could wear a hoody everyday, I would be in bliss. Ok, not so stylishly revolutionizing to wear a hoody all day, but I've been lulled into a sense of security with them. You can never tell I'm bloated like a dead sperm whale if I wear a hoody. I don't mean fat, I mean, bloated- retaining water. Whoo...this close to joining a stat by saying I'm fat. Well...chubby maybe, but dat's de way I like it, uh huh uh huh. My ideal as a renaissance woman, is to look like a Renaissance woman. Literally, but with smoothed over muscles and tone, not "ladylike" flab. And I look great. Except for my fucking hair. I want it to grow out badly, I hate this short now. Fall is for braids and pigtails, and well, I have hair stubs. STUBS DON'T A GOOD PIGTAIL MAKE!

Damn...I said I was going to bed eons ago.



  ¶ 11:38 PM