Diary 91

05-05-98


Well, I'm joining the bandwagon, and starting my own web ring. Why, you may ask? Because I thought up a nifty title, and thought it should be used, but not by some weirdo who would have a sad little webring dedicated to Courtney Love or someone equally stupid. Katie designed the logos for me today. I'll put up the HTML so you can join (I know you're dying to) by Thursday. I promise.

I'm "chatting" with C-- as I'm typing this entry. It's almost like old times, when he thought I was something special. I miss that.

I haven't heard from Ken. I'm a little worried. Perhaps I should have taken his suicidal state a bit more seriously. I don't want to call him, though--he might demand to know where his stuff is. Wow, even I'm starting to think I sound self-centered. I'll call him in a couple of days, if I haven't heard anything.

I woke up at 6:30 to repark my mother's car down the street. She rode in to work with my father, and I didn't want Dirk to think she was still home and go back to his house. That was basically a waste of time, since Dirk didn't fucking wake up until I came over to his house at 10:45 to haul his butt out of bed. We then went to my house and promptly took a nap until about 1.

I was feeling creative today, so I cooked soup. From scratch. Tomato-carrot-pasta soup, to be exact. Surprisingly, it tasted good. The last time I tried to cook soup, I was six, and made it out of baloney and crab grass. My poor father ate some, and then put the rest in the freezer, saying he'd eat it later.

I'm worried. I'm going to lose the car in a few weeks, and I really don't have the money to buy a new one. Maybe I can sell some of my jewelry. I don't wear any of it, anyway.

I think I know why I don't hear from C-- very often. He wakes up the sociopath in me. I find myself getting in touch with every inhuman thought I've entertained. Maybe the same thing happens to him. Or maybe he just doesn't feel like talking to me anymore.

We picked Dirk's birthday gift up from the guitar shop. Honestly, I don't know why a guitar pickup cost $60.00. Dirk's so happy he could wet himself. He was supposed to pay for 25 dollars of the cost, but remember when he got mad and decided to go to Wendy's to get food? Well, the money's gone now. I made sure to remind him of the incident. We also went to Border's. It's overrated. They had a decent collection of Dilbert books, though. It's just impossible to find anything worthwhile. And there was a baby wailing in the section I was looking through. I wanted to walk up and stomp on it. I think its mother might have protested, though.

Dirk's still looking for a place to live. He couldn't live at another place because he's too young. What the fuck's up with that? He's 20!! He can vote, he can smoke, why can't he rent a fucking room?

Okay, I didn't update my survey. I've been busy. And I'm talking to C--, so I'll cut this short.


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