Monday, May 16
Fucking hate meteorologist these days. Hate them. They said yesterday was supposed to be cloudy and rainy and today is supposed to be sunny and warm. Yesterday was gorgeous and today was on and off cloudy and windy. Another time they got the days mixed up when we were supposed to have thunderstorms. Stupid fuckers, making me wear the wrong certain slut-level clothing on the wrong fucking day. Today I wore the right clothes, it just got windy and cloudy from time to time so sometimes it was nice and sometimes it was chilly because of the wind, and out of all types of weather conditions, I hate wind the most.

For some reason I noticed that I looked like Wayne Campbell today, very vaguely. Black t-shirt, light jeans with more-than-knee-exposing holes, flat sneakers, and long hair. I don't know, but I thought I looked familiar somewhat.

So there was a field trip that I ventured on to the County College of Morris. My Axl Rose mosaic was being hung up, and whoopee doo, I won third place in "distinction in fine arts" in the entire county. Or at least I think so. There were only three ribbons that I saw stapled next to the works on the walls, from "highest distinction," to "high distinction," and to my just "distinction." Hey, it was quite an accomplishment and I find it quite fair because the other two were these huge 5 x 5 foot paintings/murals/pop art/whatever as opposed to my 18 x 12 inch (20 x 18 inch with the frame) mosaic.

Holy shit man, there were so many sexy guys there that I could've used up all my ovarian power and died right on the spot. There was one guy, my god, he was gorgeous. Semi-long dark brown hair, beautiful pale skin with the most alluring green eyes. I was seriously thinking of going up and talking to him, but he was with his friends and in addition was picking up and throwing a frisbee around. Too much action going on for me to handle. And not in the sexual sense either.

I first went to an interior design course, it was pretty boring. I was surrounded by what looked like middle schoolers and freshmen. All girls. And for some reason everyone around me ended up coloring their office chairs red like I did, whatever, man. And the girl next to me kept looking at my paper. Everyone was drawing the same exact office following the teacher's instructions and drawing on the chalkboard. People these days, so fucking slow I tell you.

I had been following this other hot guy, I'd have to say a punk guy although I don't like using that word often, being that I tend to get fussy with its real integrity and who can really fit into that term, but this guy had the black spikey hair doo (not mohawk or something extreme like that), black wife-beater, tight black pants, and black converse. But oh man, he had such a hot face. I'd say it was like a Scott Weiland figure in the facial build. And that's fucking hot. So I followed him to his next class, which became my next class also. I hadn't planned on taking the hands-on clay course (beats me why I didn't want to) at first, but it turned out to be really fun. Durrrr, how could it not be. It's fucking Play-Doh with straws and buttons and beads and all that good shit to make some dude out of. The class didn't even have a lecture, the teacher just told us to make something and have fun, and that he'll keep them until the end of the day when we could come back so he could take pictures of them for his records.

The Knolls people did indeed come, and Ilona found me walking around looking for the art gallery. We said our warm hellos and shit and hung out from then on. She told me she knew what was going on with some guy. I bet I know who told her. It was Helen. Fucking Helen. Lauren fucking told Helen and Helen starts telling all this shit about my personal life to all these fucks that I thought I'd left forever. Well Ilona is the only one that I choose to keep friends with, but I still fucking despise the fact that my life has been spreading around to those whom I do not want to know about my affairs. I keep forgetting to tell Lauren not to go around telling this shit to people, especially to those I dislike. Fucking hate it. It's not their fucking business. And if she gives me all this bullshit on how it's cute or how she feels sorry for me or whatever and that she must tell her friends, then I will just about fucking pull an Axl. A long awaited Axl, alright. I'll Axl Rose her ass. Well not really, she's all in good heart. But I get furious when it comes to these things.


Christina N. @ 4:56 PM