(no subject)
It is, of course, no surprise that the world should want to hear of the latest news in my life.
However.
However!
I cannot see the benefits in my having a Muggle online journal. Does the word 'pureblood' mean nothing any longer? It's bad enough that I'm expected to fraternise with Mudbloods during my regular school day. It's bad enough that I have to look at Potter's fat, ugly face all throughout the school day (has the boy heard of acne removal spells? Lord!). But this really takes the cake. The Internet.
How dare I be included in this little 'project'? I wrote to My Father and demanded he do something about it, but apparently he feels it is a good idea - which, in Father-speak, means he has to do it as well and simply doesn't want me to realise he's been roped into it. Don't think I haven't found you there, Father. Ha!
But anyway. Having no other choice, I now have to keep up this little journal, and many of you get the absolute privilege of hearing what I have to say. Consider this my gift to you.
At lunch today, someone stepped on my foot. No one has admitted to it, but I will hunt them down like the dog they are and I will have my revenge. Naturally, I suspect Millicent. Vengeance will, indeed, be mine. Honestly, if no one around here can keep their feet to themselves at lunch, they should be forced to eat in solitary confinement. Designer loafers are not made to be trod upon.
Let's see, what else is there to talk of around here? It's been a slow week, scandal wise, so I can't really sum up anything there. Yesterday I caught Weasel and the head Mudblood making eyes at each other. I wonder if Granger noticed the spot on the end of his nose.
Potter remains as irritating as ever. That's enough to say there.
I'll have to speak to Father regarding a schedule change. I was forced to work with Eloise Midgen last week, and that was nearly enough to make me break into hives. Surely there is not an uglier human being, let alone one at this school. Even Dumbledore is better to look at than Bubblearse Midgen.
Crabbe has, for some ungodly reason, melted all of the candles in Slytherin down to stubs. I have no idea what his motives were. I have no idea why he did not think how this would affect me. I have no idea how he did it so quickly. But no one is coming to replace them and now we've all got to walk around mumbling Lumos at one another, and do you know what, Goyle? I've a fair idea that it was you who 'accidentally' sat down in the chair I was already sitting in. My knees surely will never be the same.
That being said: WHY ISN'T THE STAFF DOING SOMETHING ABOUT OUR LIGHT SHORTAGE? I demand action and perhaps a little something extra to make up for the incompetence of my fellow pupils. I demand this be fixed at once.
Professor Snape was looking particularly sallow at breakfast this morning. I wonder if it has anything to do with the conversation of Potter's I overheard. What was that you were saying about 'Snape's private stores', Potter?
Ha ha ha.
However.
However!
I cannot see the benefits in my having a Muggle online journal. Does the word 'pureblood' mean nothing any longer? It's bad enough that I'm expected to fraternise with Mudbloods during my regular school day. It's bad enough that I have to look at Potter's fat, ugly face all throughout the school day (has the boy heard of acne removal spells? Lord!). But this really takes the cake. The Internet.
How dare I be included in this little 'project'? I wrote to My Father and demanded he do something about it, but apparently he feels it is a good idea - which, in Father-speak, means he has to do it as well and simply doesn't want me to realise he's been roped into it. Don't think I haven't found you there, Father. Ha!
But anyway. Having no other choice, I now have to keep up this little journal, and many of you get the absolute privilege of hearing what I have to say. Consider this my gift to you.
At lunch today, someone stepped on my foot. No one has admitted to it, but I will hunt them down like the dog they are and I will have my revenge. Naturally, I suspect Millicent. Vengeance will, indeed, be mine. Honestly, if no one around here can keep their feet to themselves at lunch, they should be forced to eat in solitary confinement. Designer loafers are not made to be trod upon.
Let's see, what else is there to talk of around here? It's been a slow week, scandal wise, so I can't really sum up anything there. Yesterday I caught Weasel and the head Mudblood making eyes at each other. I wonder if Granger noticed the spot on the end of his nose.
Potter remains as irritating as ever. That's enough to say there.
I'll have to speak to Father regarding a schedule change. I was forced to work with Eloise Midgen last week, and that was nearly enough to make me break into hives. Surely there is not an uglier human being, let alone one at this school. Even Dumbledore is better to look at than Bubblearse Midgen.
Crabbe has, for some ungodly reason, melted all of the candles in Slytherin down to stubs. I have no idea what his motives were. I have no idea why he did not think how this would affect me. I have no idea how he did it so quickly. But no one is coming to replace them and now we've all got to walk around mumbling Lumos at one another, and do you know what, Goyle? I've a fair idea that it was you who 'accidentally' sat down in the chair I was already sitting in. My knees surely will never be the same.
That being said: WHY ISN'T THE STAFF DOING SOMETHING ABOUT OUR LIGHT SHORTAGE? I demand action and perhaps a little something extra to make up for the incompetence of my fellow pupils. I demand this be fixed at once.
Professor Snape was looking particularly sallow at breakfast this morning. I wonder if it has anything to do with the conversation of Potter's I overheard. What was that you were saying about 'Snape's private stores', Potter?
Ha ha ha.