Krisco is apparently going back to her white-trash roots. Remember when I said I saw her at college when Dirk and I were registering for classes? Remember when I said that I hoped she'd be taking classes during the day, at least? Hahahaha. God hates me too much for that to happen.
She has at least one night class, and it was last night. I rounded a corner at the college, and almost ran her down. She has a whole new set of friends she runs with....the old ones got sick of her. I only got a brief impression of her as we passed, because it took me a second to realize it was her. Lots of blue. Heavy, heavy blue eyeshadow, blue shirt, and a blue head band. Add this to very bleach blonde hair, and what have you got? You guessed it — the trailer park prostitute. I remember (and this is an odd thing to remember) one of her desperate notes to Dirk kept mentioning how she "couldn't believe [he] would never again gaze into [her] blue blue eyes". This would probably explain her seeming fixation with that color.
I was less-than-pleased to see her, to say the least.
By the way, it's my birthday. Picture Droopy saying, "I'm so happy." That's about how it would sound coming from me right now.
I am, however, glad that I'm 21. Finally. I honestly didn't think I'd live to see the day. There's a whole hell of a lot of liquor that I need to try. Especially the Chocolate stuff. I think I'm going to make a list...and it will be truly nice to drink vodka that doesn't taste like rubbing alcohol.
I don't mean to sound as though the only thing I'm thinking about is drinking myself into a stupor. That's only one of the things that come to mind when I think of turning 21. The other thing is that I can now rent a car. Interesting combo - I can legally drink at the same time I can rent a car. That's too much pressure at once.
I'd be in a better mood, but I got reamed out by Dirk last night. Apparently, I "always get angry whenever he wants to better his life." Okay, I got angry because he wants to go from working in a hardware store to delivering papers like his brother does. Am I the only one who thinks that this isn't the smartest decision he could make? His brother makes a little more money than he does, but he doesn't really have the opportunity to make more. And he wants to do it with the car he's going to buy from me. The ‘87 Cutlass. The ‘87 Cutlass that's long overdue for another breakdown and I just know that forcing it to do a paper delivery route will be more than enough impetus for it to collapse.
Never mind the fact that this is just going to look beautiful on his resume.
But far be it for me to get in the way of progress. I told him, after arguing it back and forth for a while, that whatever he wanted to do was fine. I have no right to say anything about it, so he can do whatever he damn well pleases. In fact, I told him, if he just wanted to commit hari- kari right there in the parking lot, that was fine, too.
His feelings got hurt, and this eventually led to him telling me that I shouldn't ever yell at Aaron, because he has "issues" with people yelling at him. Like I give a shit. You have issues? Deal with them. Dirk got all mad that I wasn't showing enough concern for "how my actions affect the band." I don't see him reaming Aaron out for being an irritating asshole who can't shut his mouth and feels perfectly at home being rude to everyone.
But you didn't hear me say that.
I hate guys. I hate touchy-feely people who get mad when I don't make sympathetic noises about their "issues". Get laid. Get therapy. Just don't make it my problem. Don't make it so I have to tiptoe around the fact that you're a putz and deserve to die.
::Deep breath::
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONE
I HATE EVERYONEDid I mention the fact that I'm PMS'ing?
Now that I've admitted to my anger, I feel really good. Being angry feels good. I have a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach and I just know that everything will be just fine. As long as everyone stays out of my way. If not, that's good too. Being angry is no fun when you don't have anyone to attack.
I don't think I described my dress to you. It's forest green. The inner part is a sleeveless sheath dress that stops rather above my knees. I'm not sure how far above, but I got the impression that the length is a bit more daring than I'm used to. It has a jacket that goes lower than the bottom of the skirt, but it opens in a vee to show off the skirt. It's beautiful, and I'll be wearing it with clunky black shoes to make my feet look dainty.
I already got a cute e-card from my friend, Amy. It shows a kitty-kat in jeans dancing. Nobody else has gotten me anything thus far. If you missed it, here's the hint again: nobody else has gotten me anything thus far. I'm kidding. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if people got me stuff. I'd probably feel obligated to write thank-you cards or something, and then I'd forget, and then I'd feel really bad and carry guilt around for years, eventually leading to a premature death. I'd probably turn to prostitution and heroin at some point because I'd be desperate and I'd have really low self esteem.
So don't get me anything. Pretend this is just another day.
I'm typing angrily. I'm doing my best to break the keys with each stroke. I need to calm down.
********
Okay, my mood changed for the better. This is my absolute last day in this office, and they got me roses! I couldn't believe it! I think I'm going to cry, really.
