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Get us out of this mess—
I mean, musical—Braid!
Funny. I’d laugh, if my diaphragm didn’t hurt so much from lifting that stupid piano.
Still no word from Michael. I know he’s got his History of Dystopic Sci-Fi in Film midterm right now. So that would explain why he hasn’t called to thank me for the cookie.
It isn’t because he never wants to hear from or see me again, on account of the sexy dance.
Probably.
Monday, March 8, G & T
Okay, she’s gone mental.
Seriously. What’s WRONG with her? She expects us all to help her put her stupid literary magazine together—literally: She just wheeled in 3,700 pages that we are apparently supposed to collate and staple—but she still won’t pull “No More Corn!”
“Lilly,” I said. “PLEASE. We know J.P. now. We’re FRIENDS with him. You can’t run the story. It’s just going to hurt his feelings! I mean, I have him KILL himself at the end.”
“J.P. is a poet,” is all Lilly said back.
“SO? WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?”
“Poets kill themselves all the time. It’s a statistical fact. Amongst writers, poets have the shortest life expectancy. They are more likely to kill themselves than writers of prose or nonfiction. J.P. will probably agree with the way you’ve ended ‘No More Corn!’ since that’s the way he’s going to go someday anyway.”
“Lilly!”
But she won’t be swayed.
I have refused to help collate and staple on ethical grounds, so she’s got Boris doing it.
You can tell he doesn’t want to. He’s just too tired to practice his violin.
You know, I’m starting to wonder if selling candles wouldn’t have been simpler than all this.
Monday, March 8, Earth Science
Kenny wasn’t too tired last night to do our lab worksheet.
But he WAS too tired to not spill marinara sauce all over it.
I recopied it for free. I’ve officially given up on Alfred Marshall. He may work for Grandmère and Lana, but he hasn’t done squat for me.
Still no word from Michael. And his History of Dystopic Sci-Fi in Film midterm should be over by now.
I think it’s official.
He hates me.
HOMEWORK
PE: WASH GYM SHORTS!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT! U.S. Economics: Who knows? Too tired to care English: d/c (don’t care)
French: d/c
G&T: As if
Geometry: d/c
