how you ain't gonna tell me you got a new place? are you engaged too and didn't tell me??

Yesterday was kind of terrible. It turned out alright, though. Got my kitchen mostly set up. It's cute. Shelved some of my books, but got bored with it.

I could hardly keep my eyes open by twelve. Stayed out. Received a totally unexpected text message in the middle of the night. Woke up at 9:00, went home, and slept till 4:00. Still tired.

Son of a bitch. Online Banking is down for maintenance. Ugggghghhh.

Maybe seeing Transmorphers tonight? I don't knowowww.

never satisfied.

Whelp. Cable and internet are hooked up. Everything's moved in here.

Old house is empty and the carpets are being cleaned as we speak.

Already had more company the last two days than I did the entire year I lived in College Park.

I'm really . . . tired.

one tear. just one. so, make it a good one.

I have never before had to deal with death--or its prospect--the way I have the last two years, let alone the last two months.

I don't know what's going on. I don't like it.

I don't like my sudden, subconscious preoccupation with it. Talking about it. I catch myself bringing it up in conversation. Even when it's completely irrelevant.

. . .

i want to scoop your eyeballs out.

Signed my lease and got the keys! Yayayay!!

Watched Punch Drunk Love last night and Spanglish (my very favorite) today.

Dad chopped his fingers off with the electric hedge trimmer. Not really. But almost. See:


EEWWWEWNWENWEKN!!!

Needless to say, he won't be moving anything tomorrow, just supervising. Haha.

Cracker Barrel, shortly?? Yum!

what's up wif yew?

I hate money. Hate it.

I just tallied my (potential) moving expenses. Fucking ridiculous. Then I remembered that my paycheck this month is gonna be docked for the extra personal day I took to go on vacation with the family.

I'm just gonna start selling shit. Photography supplies. Books. Clothes. Computer shit. Artwork. Whatever.

Uughhghghjhdfghghghghhghgfjafhgjfhlkfdhgalfdg.

girls are like buses: miss one, next fifteen, one comin'.

Another late night.

The game was amazing until the 7th or 8th inning. Ugh. The seats, though . . . unbelievable. Twenty rows behind homeplate. So good. I love my dad.

Paul Blart: Mall Cop after the game. Ruh-diculous. Way funnier than fucking Land of the Lost.

Tons to do tomorrow. Not feelin' so great. Really excited to be gettin' out of this place, though.

Bed.

'scuse me?

Uhmm. I just found this dress:

at Wal-Mart for $14.00. What the fuck. Yes, I bought it. And I'm wearing it to the game tonight.