I met a girl today whose brother was just shot at while driving in his car down Beach... yeah, Beach Boulevard, like, not Santa Ana or Compton, but my town, and yeah he's okay and everything but jesus christ, what the hell is going on? Yeah, so these two dudes in Hondas were racing and he was in front of one of them and the dude was on his ass, so he slammed on his brakes to shake him off, and then the Hondas boxed him in and started chasing him around and they threw shit at his windshield and shattered it. Then they shot at him, missed––but hit his cousin in the knee. Over that? I mean, shit, I've got my anger issues and all, but damn, dude. Calm the fuck down.
Oh! And, ok. So everyone at OCC is selling shit now, apparently. One girl came up to me and tried to sell me a salon thing. She was French so I was entranced and agreed to everything except the paying part. Then this black guy I was checking out noticed me looking at him and came up to me, and I was like, "Hell yes," and then he started talking a mile a minute about a) how cute I was, and b) how I should totally buy a magazine subscription. Do I look that pathetic and gullible? You think that if you tell me I'm cute I'll buy magazines from you? Do you realize that I know that if you thought I was cute, you'd ask for my number, not my money? God.
And Sean... leave me alone now. That's enough. You do not love me. You don't even know me. I know what it's like, having a big crush on someone who isn't at all interested; oh, how I know. But I'm not in any way obligated to put up with your overtures. You're weird. You're boring. Go away.
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pissed off.