9:36 p.m. - September 19, 2001
bitter
My ego feels so lovelily stroked from everyone's responses to my last entry. I feel all warm and fuzzy. Aww! In typical Camel fashion, though, I feel obligated to growl and say, "You bitches BETTER have liked it, it took me over an hour to type!!" but for once I'm not quite in the mood to be an ass. What's come over me? How dare I even think of being sweet?

There are twins who go to my school that find it hilarious to mess me up, switch around, and laugh when I don't notice. It isn't my fault they look exactly the same, dress exactly the same, and smile in the hallway exactly the same. I think pretty soon I'm going to pour a bucket of permanent purple paint on one's head and not let him near a shower.

Also, one should never let J.G. set one up on any dates, for J.G.'s mouth doesn't seem to remember how to close. I'll even extrapolate from that and say not to let anyone, ever, set you up. It just makes you feel like you're in seventh grade and incapable of forming a personality of your own. I've proverbially slapped my wrist and made a mental note. But it's so deliciously, guiltily childish to giggle behind your hands and ask what he said, what she said, what she said he said. I'm trying to figure out if I miss those days or not.

Well, that kind of middle school blather got me my friendship with Erik, so I do believe it was worth it.

And Galen? I take no responsibility for what may or may not have come out of Jerome's mouth. I hear it was mostly 'may have'. When there was a lack of protesting, I didn't mean he should endlessly push you about it, and for that, I do regret it somewhat. Why am I talking to someone who I know doesn't read this diary?

That's the kind of mindset that happens when you're running on lack of sleep caused by an exchange student who stays out 'til who knows when, asks to be picked up from indeterminate places in the middle of the night, and refuses to speak to you. Of course I'm not bitter.

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