I have no idea what I'm talking about
There have still been no s'mores. I was all ready. I opened up the box. I read the directions (because I'm a directions reading kind of gal). How the hell was I supposed to know that sterno comes in more than one size? I just bought was they had at the hardware store. Well those cans are 7oz but you're only supposed to use 2.5oz cans for the little pretend grill. Crap. Oh well, there was Chubby Hubby in the freezer.
Sunday was shopping day. At the mall I only bought a bunch of $.50 jewelry from Claire's. But then, Target. Half-off valentine stuff. Much of which was printed with conversation hearts. I love conversation hearts. I am, however, still bitter over the loss of 'groovy' and 'dig me.'
I sent in my entry for the Tribeworld short story contest. I feel kind of stupid and geeky about it. But then I think about the possibility of Raymond Thompson reading my story which would just be so incredibly cool.
I think that, however much I may enjoy it, I'm spending too much time alone. But I do have the excuse of being sick a lot and really, crazy as this may sound, I don't feel like hanging out with lame people. And all the people I like hanging out with are busy. Stupid Erin's boyfriend taking up her time. Oh well, at least I know I'm going to see her next weekend.
I'm not feeling very coherent. My opportunities for nice long sleep-ins over the weekend were marred by the sweltering temperatures in my apartment. I don't even have the radiator in my room on and my room is set far away from the rest of the apartment. Yet last night it was so hot I slept with the fan on and only a sheet.
Sunday was shopping day. At the mall I only bought a bunch of $.50 jewelry from Claire's. But then, Target. Half-off valentine stuff. Much of which was printed with conversation hearts. I love conversation hearts. I am, however, still bitter over the loss of 'groovy' and 'dig me.'
I sent in my entry for the Tribeworld short story contest. I feel kind of stupid and geeky about it. But then I think about the possibility of Raymond Thompson reading my story which would just be so incredibly cool.
I think that, however much I may enjoy it, I'm spending too much time alone. But I do have the excuse of being sick a lot and really, crazy as this may sound, I don't feel like hanging out with lame people. And all the people I like hanging out with are busy. Stupid Erin's boyfriend taking up her time. Oh well, at least I know I'm going to see her next weekend.
I'm not feeling very coherent. My opportunities for nice long sleep-ins over the weekend were marred by the sweltering temperatures in my apartment. I don't even have the radiator in my room on and my room is set far away from the rest of the apartment. Yet last night it was so hot I slept with the fan on and only a sheet.