I feel like I'm going to die. My throat really hurts and I would kill for some form of orange right now. Blake ate the rest of the chicken that we had. I can't stop downloading prank phone calls, I've been going to bed later each night. I want to leave this town. Someone keeps slamming me into my locker at school, yet they stopped today, thank goodness. My Dad bought a new stereo that sucks, I thought he'd get me a new cd player, but I'm thinking the apocolyspe might just come first now. I think the Cubs lost the game tonight, even though I didn't want them to.
I made myself a vanilla cabinet (like a milkshake but with ice cream in it, a local ice cream store calls it a "Rhode Island tradition"). It's really good, but it didn't help my dying throat. I really hope it'll just go away on it's own, it's too hard to go to the doctor. I'm really tired, but I have to go play guitar. I think I might spend the rest of my life listening to Jet's "Are you gonna be my girl?" repeatedly. Though I would like to know why girls with brown hair and green eyes like myself aren't considered attractive. I need to figure out why I haven't attracted a decent guy in all my life. Senior year is going to suck really bad. I wish I could just sleep off the next eight years or so.
*Racecar*
<< Wednesday, Oct. 15, 2003@10:52 p.m.>>