I have just now completed the arduous task of removing everything that doesn't fit me anymore from my wardrobe, leaving only things I can wear with a clear conscience. Which basically meant ripping every single item out aside from a precious few assorted bits and bobs that still stretch enough to cover the ever expanding mass that is I. How depressing is that? I've decided to box up all the clothes I took out and put them in the garage, only to be taken out when I have managed to transform myself from a sumo wrestler to a ballerina. I don't expect to see them again for quite some time.

The reason for this unpresidented productivity is of course the fact that I am supposed to be doing a whole lot of studying right now. Of which I have managed to do none. The parents were out of town for the weekend, and while I was meant to get a whole lot done I found the peace and quiet all too irresistable. Spent the weekend cleaning the house, cooking good food, watching crappy movies, reading cheesy thrillers and spending a minimal amount of time with friends. Which under normal circumstances would be fine, but this weekend was meant to be dedicated to academic pursuits only. Have I made the point that I was meant to study but didn't yet? Alright. But fear not, the night is young. It's only 5 pm on a Sunday and there is still a chance that I might pull something out of my sleeve yet!


The thought occurred to me today that it's been a holy hell of a long time since I've actually done anything. Gone out, gone to a movie, met people... It's a sorry state of affairs I've landed myself in, ladies and gentlemen. The only new friends I make nowadays are missionaries. And how goshdarn tragic is that? No disrespect intended to the missionaries though, almost all of them that I've met have been fabulous. But they're still missionaries. And only under the utmost exidient circumstances should one find themselves only making friends with people who have taken an oath to befriend absolutely everyone. It's like you almost understand how superstar millionaires feel... well... in the smallest of aspects. You never know if they like you for you, no wut I iz sayin?

I'm dying to go see The Grudge, which is supposed to be super scary. The only one I could think of that I stood a snowball's chance in hell of being able to drag to a movie was my sister, who it turned out had to work tonight. She does not know that I know the time honored truth that anything other than a 'yes' really means 'no'. We tried to cross reference our schedules (I actually have a schedule, can you believe it?) to find a time where we could go and we're free on opposite nights all week, except next Sunday. Before I could slam the phone down, her deceptive mouth had spat out the words "OK, so maybe we'll go next Sunday". Now while I know her intentions are good, the fact that this will most likely never happen is not wasted on me. A lot can happen between now and then and I have every reason to believe that it will. But even if I know this for an absolute fact and a law of nature, my hopes are now inevitably up like a puppy dog's, and I will undoubtedly be getting gradually more excited as it draws closer to Sunday, on which day all of my hopes and dreams will be cruelly shattered by feeble excuses about a lack of babysitters. It's all so clear to me.

I'd try to drag Sylvia, however she is not only the world's biggest scaredy cat but she is also 9 months pregnant to the day and would almost surely go into labor five minutes before the show much to my utter disappointment. So I won't even try that one. Water breaking on me would be more horror than I am interested in, thank you very much.

On a different note, has anyone noticed how fast this year has gone by? Is it dawning on anyone else that it is freakin November 14th? November? How the hell? Two to three more weeks, and I'll have left yet another semester behind me in ruins. I swear that were I not a drooling mongoloid when it comes to anything scientific, I'd conduct some kind of scientific research and prove that time has started to go by at least 17 times faster than it used to.

Well. I think it's time to give in to my own sensibility and maybe try to crack open a book for a change.

Be sure, be safe and remember that sex under 16 is illegal!