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:: Thursday, January 03, 2002 ::
Just got off the phone with Brit Rog.
Man, is he pushy. He *really* wants me to come over to his place. Kinda lecherous, if you ask me.
I told him I dyed my hair, and he goes, "What, on your head?" Ugh. Gives me the creeps. Somehow he talked me into going out saturday night, despite my best dodging routine. Hmph. I'm already getting the feeling it's gonna be a bad idea.
Mom's breathing down my neck already about being her bitch around the house. I wish she'd just fuck off. All I want is to be left in peace all day. Always fucking looking in my room like the god damned ark of the covenant's in there. "Ohhh..it's messy. You get up here right now and clean it!" Fuck off, whore. Get your head out of *my* room and you wouldn't even know if it's messy or not, now would you?
Sorry. kind of a touchy subject for me. I really value my privacy.
In any case, still no word from Aden.
This bites.
:: Fox 1/03/2002 08:36:00 PM [Say what?] ::
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