Do I get my lap dance now?
I'm stuck inside someone else's dream.
I'm baking brownies for some party my mom is going to
tonight, and they smell really good and I want to eat them
all and get really fat. But I won't. I have to be a girl
and worry about my figure. Goddam you, society!
Yeah, so I have my baking confidence back. I hadn't baked
a darn thing since early May when I tried to convince Joel
to take me to the senior prom at school. I hate school
dances, but I felt morally obligated to go, ya'know? So I
baked him this grubbin' cake and decorated it all pretty
with the word "Prom?" written on it. And I baked him 10
cookies and on each one in icing wrote a reason he should
take me to the prom. It was convincingly foolproof... or
so I thought. He went to Wild Waves instead that day with
some other chick. He said he felt bad, but I beg to
differ. Ass. And I hadn't baked a lick since. It was
probably due to some subconscious reminder of the trauma I
faced that weekend. Aside from tearing up all day on the
day he told me he wouldn't go with me, I eventually got
stood up by boy-of-choice Number Two, and proceeded to bawl
uncontrollably for the remainder of the evening. It's no
wonder I think boys are fucking evil. Bleah. I envy the
That's my vent of pity. Everybody, on the count of three,
feel sorry for me. One... two... Yeah, whatever.
Current mood: ambitious
Current music: Frank Sinatra - Too Marvelous For Words
Current advice: If you plant ivy on your lawn and wait ten
years, you'll never have to mow the grass again.