On a sad note, today in my magazine class, we were talking about a story on death and how different people deal with it. Our professor said a few people called and said they couldn't come to class this morning because they couldn't discuss it. After class, someone asked her what she was doing this weekend and she said, "well, my cousin was killed in a car accident yesterday, so I'm not sure yet..." Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. She started to cry, trying to brush it off that she was more worried about her mascara smearing than her cousin's death, but then everyone (it was a room full of girls and one guy) started to get teary eyed. I know I did. He was 17, and all she could stress that "it was a good thing because he was an organ donor so five people got his organs and now can live." That's rough, way rough.
I had something cool to write about, but I can't remember. I feel hungover and it's not even 10:30. wtf. All I had was a pint of Wheat and a Pink Lemonade. Go fig. Oh, and I didn't drive my car today in honor of Car Free day sponsered by my favorite magazine, Adbusters.
Ah yes, the art of gossip. Why is it when you tell people over and over and over and over that you'll do something that the only thing they hear is what they want to hear? For example, Jamie, the roommate who likes to walk in my room and has selective hearing issue, keeps telling her mother that I'm not going to pay the townhouse's deposit to someone, eventhough I've told her, probably four times, no more than five, that I was going to pay when I got my share of the deposit from my last apartment, but that I didn't think it was very fair for me to pay someone an entire deposit if I was taking their spot. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell her mother I wasn't going to pay it. Now, I've told Jamie, blatently, that I was going to pay it when I got my money so she woudlnt get a bouncing check and for her to stop bugging me about it, but she keeps whining to her mother that I'm not going to pay. Sorry honey, I'm not spoiled and I dont have a silver spoon in my mouth. Sorry I don't have $333.33 to give people at the flip of a switch. At least now I know she can't hear.
Maybe for xmas I'll go hunting in antique stores for an old Ear Trumpet that people used way back when Betsy Ross was still alive. Perhaps I'll save my money for a nice gold plated one. I knew I shouldn't have agreed to move in here; what a waste of a year. If I were home more than the 8 hours I spend sleeping in my bed, I'd raise hell in my own little private room and coddle him in a blanket of hatred.
Here, I will give you a head start.
Btw, Joe is superdoopercool
Laney just put gum on my forehead and I threw it back at her and now we can't find it. Help...the copy room is going nutty...
Speaking of nutty, have you seen the Britney Spears ad for milk? It was an insert into a magazine or newspaper here in Chico and on one side she's got this chocolate milk moustache and on the other side she's like dancing and spilling milk all over. What it really looks like is that she's been licking some behind and she's got crap all over her mouth. Good lord it's disgusting. I won't even begin to discuss the symbolism of the milk everywhere on the other side...