Tuesday, January 11
I could've been a fifteen year old on birth control. How fucking hilarious is that. So I went to my mom's doctor today, who specializes in women shit, because of my fucked up period and zits. Not because I go whoring around like a bargain bitch goes from magazine to magazine for coupons. Well the doctor said that it would stunt, or maybe even stop, my growing altogether, so I decided against it and instead will go back to her in a few months when I'll be sixteen and I've probably stopped growing by then. Until then I won't be on birth control.

Just typing "I," "on," "birth," "control," in the same sentence fucking cracks me up.

There was an early dismissal today, due to Jesus dandruff. Walked home, read twenty pages of The Dirt, went on the computer, went to the doctor's, ate dinner, and voila.

Voila. I know lots of french.

I think I'm going to make a scrapbook. About what, I don't know. But being inspired by a Duff one I saw recently, I thought it might be fun to make one. Kind of ironic, being that I used to be totally against them for some reason. I thought they looked fucking stupid and had no point in their existance, or they were just a fucking excuse to show off your uninteresting shit.


Christina N. @ 7:24 PM