| Current mood: |  bored |
| Current music: | "Reckless Abandon"-Blink 182 |
Be Warned...THIS IS A RANDOM ENTRY!
"On and On...Reckless Abandon...Something's wrong...This is gonna shock them."
I lurve that song. That I do.
Yeah...anyway...
Today, I went to the store to go get some cheese for my step-mom, and this little girl is STARING at me. I mean, dead-on stare. She wasn't even blinking. I tried to smile at her...just to see what she'd do...but...she kept STARING. Not even a hint of movement in her face. It kinda freaked me out...so...I asked her mom to tell her daughter to QUIT staring...it's rude. And you know what she says to me?
She says: "Maybe you shouldn't be so...freaky...and...differant."
That stops me in my tracks. Okay...All I have is multi-colored hair...an eyebrow ring...and LOTS of bracelets. Her daughter's hair is all nappy and there's...unknown...stuff...on her shirt. I'm just standing there in shock in the cheese aisle, and she's walking on...NO COMEBACK. Until I say the first thing that comes to my mind...
"MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T BE A BIG, FAT WHORE."
And, then I ran...because she was big. And...she had a MAD face on while she chased me down the aisle. I gave her a BIG smile when I saw her at the checkout...and ran home...just in case.
Haha...I told my dad that...but I gave them the condensed version. (I said.."Maybe you shouldn't be rude.") And, he just rolled his eyes. He's been acting like I'm a convict ever since he's seen my hair and eyebrow ring. Yeah...we're not even going to go into the other stuff, k?
You know what makes me happy? Besides telling rude people that they're big, fat whores?
Sprite Tropical Remix. It tastes like Skittles. And, it makes my tounge blue. Ok...maybe I had something else that made my tounge blue...but...I swear the Sprite made my tounge blue. Does Sprite Tropical Remix make your tougne blue? Hmm...I had a lot of tea today. Can you tell? I'm like really hyper. ADIFJAOSD FKJA....
Yeppers...
I've got senior pictures Tuesday. So, J-Dogg...while you're resting up for Warped...I'm getting my pictures done...and I'm going to be tortured. Like...bunches. They're doing my hair. In curls. I'm wearing a black mini-skirt. A BLACK MINI-SKIRT! AND A KAKHI MINI-SKIRT! Acutally...after pictures...I can Steph-a-phy them. Or something. Is that how you spell kakhi? How do you spell that? Eh...Belva's friend, Monica, and her daughter, Trista, and my step-sister, Donna, are coming also. So, I know how that's going to be. They're going to be talking about Cougarettes...the dance team that Belva coaches and Donna and Trista are on...and I'm going to be not...saying...a...word. That's going to be fun. Er...not. But, I'm glad it's not just me and Belva and Monica. I'm glad that somebody else is coming. Because, I really don't know what to say around them.
Is kakhi spelled khaki?
Eh...on a somewhat sadder note...My step-father is back in the hospital. I haven't been talking about him for awhile. I don't know why. I just figure that if I don't...he'll get better and Mom'll get happy again. Maybe. But, the doctors aren't too optimistic about it. They say that if he doesn't get a transplant...then...good-bye, Tim. Damn. I don't think that I could imagine life without him. Seriously...I was thinking about this...I know that I've said that I HATE him...but...I don't hate him. I hate the alcholoic Tim. I hate it when he drinks. I hate how he acts. How he's always touching me. (Not that way...he just feels the need to put his arm around me and hug me ALOT.) But, the sober Tim...is nice. I've grown to love him. He's been there...through those VERY rough times, when other people weren't. He's understood when my mom doesn't. He really cares for me. He really tries to see that I don't do without. Gah...I will be crushed when he dies. And, I know that will be soon. I feel as if I can't act like I care about Tim around my dad. I don't know. Gah...if I go into that...I'll cry.
I need some Sprite Tropical Remix.
And...I need my AIM...That way I can talk to you guys. I'm...feeling really low right now.
Wow...this is random.
But...I don't want to end it. I just want to keep typing...and typing...and typing. It makes me not think. Think about Tim...think about how next year this time...I'll be out of school. (God-willing.) I'll...be gone. The second I get out...I'm getting in my car...if I have one...and just driving. Driving out of this town. (Rushville) I need to get out of here. EVERYTHING IS THE SAME. No matter what...It's so...galdflaksdfj. PREDICTABLE. It's fucking suffocating. I can't stand it. I need change. I NEED IT. I can't explain it. I feel as if EVERY second that I'm here...I'm slowly dying.
I don't want to do what everyone else wants me to do. I don't want to go to college. I don't want to finish school. But, I have to. I have to make them proud.
Where are you, Sprite Tropical Remix?
I need someone that I can talk to...face-to-face here. You guys rock...don't get me wrong. You're my best friends. But, I need someone here. Someone that can lend a shoulder for me to cry on. GAH...I need to get to Waldorf. That's it. Right now...I'm running away.
Or...not.
But...I can dream.
I'm going to pry myself away from the keyboard and steal some Sprite Tropical Remix from the kitchen. I love you guys.
Rock on.
True Story,
Riot Girl.
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