The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Impossible to Get written @ 4:43 PM on October 23, 2002 The Pennsylvania Department of Vital Records can go to hell. Look, I KNOW my great-grandfather existed! Heavens to genealogy knows that at this stage in the development in the human race, I HAVE TO HAVE A GREAT-GRANDFATHER, DAMMIT. And when I die and go to Heaven, the first thing I'm going to do is slap David Francis Reno hard across the face for giving me hell in life. Someone out there knows the truth. That's plain and simple. Today was a pretty busy day. I went to stagecraft this morning and learned how to tie knots for curtains and scenery. You know, stuff they don't teach you, aside from making picture frames, in Brownie Girl Scouts. I hope those girls are having a miserable time in college right now because they sure as hell made elementary school miserable for me. But anywho, I digress. After class, I had an academic advising session that lasted an entire five minutes. I told my advisor what classes I was taking and he was like, "Cool," in typical laid back artist fashion. Then I went work at a bake sale the Art Mob was having. That was kind of fun. The painting professor dropped off "the best damned chocolate bread" he had baked and went on his merry little way. Afterwards was lunch. Thank God for Pizza Hut. Then I went to my weekly LeadNKU meeting, picked up a couple of extra hours working in the scene shop, and voila, here I am chilling before dinner and my last class. I tell you I have been slammed with sexual inuendoes all week, but I'd rather not get into it. I would like to maim Chris, that assholian senior in my stagecraft lab class, with a goddamned screw gun. But otherwise, my week continues on pleasantly as its strangely has all week. I think I'll surf the Harry Potter website for a while, work on some of the final characterizations, and then leave for dinner. Then class. My work is never done. But... going off topic a little here... good God, what has gotten into the male population lately? Is it because it's just past the full moon? Jesus Christ, I am not that NICE. I am not that CUTE. And I don't see how any of these guys are thinking that I'm easy. I don't simply play hard-to-get; I'm you-creeps-you-shall-not-touch-me-with-a-40-foot-pole impossible to get. Why I cannot find a nice, normal guy who heartily lacks the stalker's eye I will never understand. But anyway, that's enough of that before I launch into a rant session and ruin my lovely day.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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