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design | host "save some face- you know you've only got one- change your ways- while you're young." so yeah everything sucks. i had a fight with my mom today about seminary... great way to start the day. we're better but the issue isn't really gone. i got to school (bummed about the fight,) and got my books and algebra paraphanalia. i was sitting there in class thinking hey, i'll give this the old college try. i can do this if i apply myself, instead of zoning out like i usually do, and, well, none of it was making any sense, as usual. ms. herff was going on and on and on and on about pascal's triangle and the binomial something something theory, and i was just thinking so what. i was thinking about all of the shit that's been going on and about how i was in a fight with my mom and about how if i apply myself to algebra, i'll be failing because i'm stupid instead of failing because i don't care. so i just started to cry. i wasn't sobbing or anything... i was just sitting there crying in class. i could feel the makeup on my cheeks because lately i've taken to spider-leg-style eyelashes and blue smears of eyeliner. i could feel it pooling in the bottom of my glasses and i didn't care. i was just sitting there, being sad. boo frikkety hoo, right. so class ended and i was shoving books into my locker thinking eff this and eff that and wondering if there was anything sharp enough to impale myself upon in the hallway when up walks ms. hurff to my locker. i was thinking 'o crap- she saw me crying and now she wants to ask me what's wrong or send me to a therapist...' ... but she didn't/ actually. she told me that my shirt was cut too low. she said it was "inappropriate for a high school setting" and that i should wear something else or wear a blouse under it. she said i am "showing too much cleavage" and it is "distracting" . of course for the young men as well, she said, since i'm "an attractive young girl." and i wanted to cry some more, but lucky me, everyone's checking out my rack, so no one will see my face. (by the way, i wear this shirt all the time. either i've always dressed like a skank and no one's cared, or my boobs got bigger.) so i wore my jacket the rest of the day. classes were lame. Mr. Craig weeps for the future: "the depression was like this man... people had too much stuff, and not enough money to buy the stuff, so there was too much stuff, and no money." despite my efforts to show some decency and not be a whore, i also recieved a comment from mrs. craig about my 'cleavage.' i hate hearing teachers say the word cleavage. let's wear low cut shirts because we've got low self esteem. i'm starting work tomorrow at domino's. i'll be the pizza lady yeah yeah yeah. i'm working tuesday wednesday thursday friday saturday. i'm going to get paid. i need some khaki pants. to wear to work. im not working so i can have khaki pants. i was checking something on my cell phone today and saw about six missed calls from chuck on wednesday the 9th. what the fuck. i didn't hear my phone ring. i wasn't being a bitch i swear i couldn't hear my phone. if you read this. if anyone reads this. i hate this. my head hurts. guess. what. one of the breasts i shamelessly flaunt about has a lump in it and tricare is a bunch of bastards and mom keeps forgetting to make me a followup appointment. bfd. it's probably benign right. "save some face- you know you've only got one- change your ways- while you're young." |