Wednesday, November 9
When I got home from school I found that my favorite TV room had been taken by the person who always sits in front of the TV in the dining room. Yes, we have a TV in our dining room. So since the dining room sucks and the only lounging chair available is a computer chair in that room, I go and lay down in my room to watch television. That Robin Williams movie What Dreams May Come had just begun on AMC, and after watching about fifteen to twenty minutes of it, knew it was going to put me into chick flick mode. The bed was starting to get really comfortable, so I fell asleep at 3:45.

Well, the person who took over my television spot in the living room starts blasting Star Wars Episode III on the Xbox. Jesus fucking Christ. Every blast, explosion, light saber swoosh, every wookie gurgle - I heard. So basically my nap was pretty much destroyed because when there's so much noise, I'm only half asleep. It's like you're sleeping solidly but you're thinking clearly and hearing everything that's going on around you. Pretty useful if you're homeless and living in a stoop, but not when you live in a suburban ranch house who's fed more than they could possibly sustain.

Even worse, around the last hour of my three-hour nap, for some fucking reason after the Television Area Perpetrator was done watching her movie, blasts regular cable television to the fucking core. For the movie I just heard noises and explosions, but when she started watching cable afterwards, I heard every single goddamn word that came out of every character on Nickelodeon's mouth. So I started dreaming about storming out into the living room and yelling my fucking head off at her like a bi-polar Joan Crawford at her closet person who used wire hangers to hang up her Oscar gowns.

I woke up in the most confused and sad mood. This is the reason I despise naps - it's because I tend to feel so fucking lost and like I've lost an entire day, or something major has happened and I wasn't there. Not to mention that whenever I wake up from a nap I'm so eligible to cry - I turn into a pussy. That is one position that absolutely no one wants to be in. It was around 6:41 when I woke up and immediately had dinner of a large bowl of soup and two chocolate chip cookies, with water. Right now I'm still fucking lost and feel sort of sick. Fuck naps, man. Fuck sleeping. If you were to ever have sex with me, we'd probably be fucking all night because I just fucking hate sleeping.

I only sleep when I need to, and lately I've only been getting about six or seven hours a night.

This nap didn't help my crankiness either. I'm a bomb just waiting to be at least flicked at, and I'll fucking explode so bad that your grandchildren would get tumors.

The noodle soup that I ate was so fucking hot that my nose started dripping. But I continued to burn the inside of my mouth because I was so hungry and it was really damn good. The cookies sucked though. Too hard. And the chocolate chips were too small. I'm disappointed in you, Shop Rite Bakery. Your M&M cookies are as excellent as a Denis Leary hockey fight, but your chocolate chip ones suck more balls than Axl Rose at a jawbreaker eating contest.

Tomorrow Jeannie is coming over, and on Friday I think we're going shopping at Bridgewater. I'm trying to decide whether I should cash my first check for Friday or save it for Black Friday. Because I might not even go shopping on Black Friday. The crowds make it pretty much not worth going at all on that day. But the savings are fucking incredible, man. Or so I hear. I've never shopped on Black Friday before. Once you hit sixteen, you are officially deemed a shopstar.

Today at lunch I sat in the hallway that I always do, but then I started noticing these freshmen girls starting to spread all the way into that once quiet and peaceful place that I sit and eat lunch at. This group of four or so sat directly across from me on the other side, and they kept staring at my shoes for reasons beyond my knowledge. I wear them underneath my jeans, not tucking the jeans in, because I'm not fucking hardcore as Chuck Norris. Nobody is. But anyway, yeah they kept eyeing my footwear like my feet were not feet, but Grinch heads that suddenly grew on the bottom of my legs because of some weird asian birth defect.

In the "locker room" I learned to rearrange the curtain stands so that I would completely in privacy; And so that horny bitch from two weeks ago wouldn't get wet again.

I kind of wish that Saturday would come so that I could go to work, where I don't know anyone too well and I could talk to them civilly. People who get paid to be nice to each other, because that is part of the Pier 1 pledge. Well not really, but the store's general atmosphere is full of pleasant folk. Surprisingly, I work there. What sucks is that I work from 6:00AM to 10:00AM this Saturday, hours when the store isn't even open yet so I'm not interacting with any new people (customers), nor handling money or doing easy stuff like rearranging pillows and dinnerware. Instead, I would probably be taking out the trash and unload furniture again. But by then my new schedule would probably be in place, so my hours will most likely be at times and therefore positions, that I prefer.


Christina N. @ 8:34 PM