diana (me) -- this website's owner/operator; 15/f

 

patsy -- poet and dreamer; 16/f

 

meredith -- humorist and saint; 16/f

 

him -- hunter and listener; 16/m

 

'fred' -- counselor and taxi; 17/m

 

 

20010113

17:21;   This afternoon was wonderful. I had a scrumptious lunch at Applebee's (chicken finger salad -- with extra honey mustard -- and lemonade) with Patsy, in which we carefully eyed the cute waiter we had... his name is Andrew. How cute is that? After that, Patsy and I went over to the dollar store and we each bought a cheap and tacky pair of huge sunglasses and Patsy bought a stuffed kitty.
Afterwards, we danced and impersonated James Bond as we gracefully entered the neighboring WalMart. And, with a pen (which we bought at WalMart), we had 22 lovely WalMart employees sign the lovely little cat. Some people put up a fuss with it, rolling their eyes. An employer asked which church we attended. But most of the people -- particularly a cutie working in the hunting section -- were fairly nice and had a good whole-hearted laugh at our boredom.
Then Patsy, her parents, and myself ventured downtown to get ice cream and wander the street next to the river. I had a strawberry one-scoop ice cream. Yummy. And then Patsy and I took it solo and wandered into the tourist traps that aligned the road. We found this place that had bumper sticks that said stuff like "My kid beat up your honor student," which gave us both a good laugh. We exited in the first lines of a Bon Jovi song that was played overhead.
So what did I learn today? I learned that River Street has a lot of small boxes filled with funny bumper stickers. I found that strawberry ice cream is a dream in a cone. And, most of all, I found that Patsy and myself indeed kick some ass as espionage spies.

11:18;   I have three band-aids on my right hand -- one on my thumb, one on my index finger, and one on my middle finger. None of them are for decoration -- they're just to stop the hurting. I can't pick up anything without my fingerprints, so I've been fumbling around with my CDs and typing on a keyboard. It doesn't look too cool, either.
I hurt my thumb a few days ago. As I was dressing, I accidentally punctured the skin directly under my fingernail. I ended up hurting myself again that day when I was mindlessly twirling around a wire rod. It's not cute to throw around wire rods and have your thumb punctured twice in one day.
The next that got injured wasn't as bad as the thumb. It was the next finger, the index/pointer finger. I did the same thing that I did to the thumb the first time -- accidentally puncturing below the fingernail. Hurts like hell.
The third one is actually the most intriguing, and the most painful. I was laying under covers yesterday when the phone rang. I got up, tripped over a blanket, fell to my knees on a concrete floor, hit my neck on a table, and scratched the side of my middle finger on the wooden side of the table. (The phone call, by the way, wasn't for me.)
So that's why I have three stimutaneous (if that is the correct word) band-aids on my right hand. And that's why I can't type or pick up CDs. Damn.

20010112

19:42;   This, my dear viewers, is what yours truly looks like. Now, now, don't be entirely scared of the idea. (By the way, I was thinking of making each of them for my friends and put it as their representative photos on the side -- but where's the originality, you know? You can make your own if you want to, as well!)

[Link pimped off of megnut.com]

06:50;   Calista Adopts a Child -- When my start up page said that an "Ally McBeal" star had adopted a baby boy, I expected for it to be Greg Germann at least. But I was proven wrong. Congats.

20010111

20:46;   Well, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news. First, with the good news. I've gotten my photos back this evening. Exciting, isn't it? Some of them weren't half-decent, and they turned out exactly as I wished. The bad news? Only 18 of 27 turned out correctly, and only three are chosen as absolute favorites. Ironically, none were my mirror photos. Damn it, damn it, damn it. And, so, I supply my three favorites, shruken, to you. (Click to make them bigger.)
patsy at best buymy view from 1st and 2nd periodmy cat, carmen, stuck in my shopping cart [favorite photo]

16:12;   This morning, during first period, Patsy and I were singing "Here Comes the Sun" towards the rising sun when we heard the screetches. Patsy and I, our bodies halfway out the second story window, watched a car accident take place between a nice blue/black car and a white town car. From what we could piece together in the moments that followed was that the white car had run a stop sign and the blue/black car couldn't stop in time. So the black/blue car smashed the front of the white car, sending that car (without flipping it) into someone's front yard, tearing up grass and breaking rocks that lined the road. The blue/black car spun around and they both stopped. The drivers from the cars emerged, flushed and paranoid. It was four minutes later (an approximate, since neither Patsy nor I had looked at our watches at the time of the crash -- we assume that the actual impact was 7:48 am) that the ambulance arrived, followed shortly by three or four police cars and, later, a firetruck.
At this point, both Patsy and I had lost a little bit of interest to the details of the accident. We sat near the window in case of anything special occurred, and - believe me - stuff did. It was only a few moments after the firetruck appeared that we hear the screams. Piercing through the morning air were these high-pitched female screams. We are still not sure which of the two cars the screams had come from, but it was obviously from someone stuck within them. Another ambulance appeared after the first had left, and the firetruck left. Soon, the cops (and the growing crowds of locals) had died down to a minimum, and all that was left to occur was to mark the part on the street and get a few tow trucks.
To pay respects, I fell silent as I crossed over that spot during the afternoon.

15:39;   I got my report card today. My father declared it a "very nicely done" success. So, I shall share the grades with you. There are three grades next to each subject for a reason -- the first is from the first marking period, the second is from the second marking period, and the third (in parantheses) is the supposed average that they have made up. Enjoy.
1st period art - 87, 96 (92)
2nd period art - 89, 93 (91)
3rd period biology - 93, 86 (90)
4th period French - 99, 85 (92)
5th period history - 74, 83 (79)
6th period algebra - 70, 81 (76)
7th period literature - 90, 87 (89)

20010110

22:02;   "It was obvious that some passengers had been sucked out as part of the floor was missing." How can that be described as interesting?
In unrelated news, Meredith is going to Colorado tomorrow on a plane. Wish the best for her. (She's going to kill me for writing that.)

15:58;   Want to send birthday checks in a fun, cheap way? Why not try a Bilz Box, which is "clear acrylic" that contains a maze inside that you must get a check or dollar bill "out by successfully guiding a small ball through a two level maze." So why don't you order it online today?
I can assure you, this is one of the ultimate piss-off games if you are unskilled like me.

06:58;   So, what's on your mind?
Lately, I have been asking people that question quite a bit. It's not to start dissecting their mind, but rather to find out their general thoughts and ideas of the moment. At the moment, I am not one to go through and mesmerize someone and tell them what they should do of a problem that I myself cannot control. So that's why I intend to sit back and look at the stars every now and then... just so I can get away from things.
"Fred" and his girlfriend are back together for the third time. Or is it fourth? Either way, they are supposedly doing OK until she called "Fred" last night and told him that she had something to say... "but I can't say it over the phone". If it's with "Fred's" luck, she'll dump him again. At this point, I would go off and tell "Fred" to don't date her, she'll break your heart again!, but what's the point of that? No. I shall sit back and see what happens. He loves her. I don't hope that things mess up for him again.

20010109

16:38;   Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
During a rather uneventful 6th period today, the temperature -- though it was in the early afternoon -- dropped and snow started falling to the ground. This, of course, distracted every student in my Algebra class and caused a riot of people standing at the windows, their bodies halfway out and halfway in. Everyone got a coat of snow on their heads and a few sprinkles of it on their tongues.
None the less, math was not finished today.

06:41;   Once again, I am responsible for the entire house's late morning wake-up. Little did I know that my mother no longer sets her alarm in the mornings, but rather relies on when I get in the shower as her clock. And if I get in the shower at, say, 6:20 in the morning, that means that everyone else in the household will awaken whenever I get out of the shower. Sounds stupid? I think so, too.

20010108

20:25;   "You are brave. You're getting out of here. You're always talking about how I do what I wanna do, but I don't. I don't. Cause I wanna sing in a band, but I don't have the guts to even audition. And I know that if I don't do something, I'm gonna end up like my mother. Her life ended after high school."
- Rene Zellweger, "Empire Records"

16:15;   I've realized recently how long of a day that I have had, and yet it doesn't seem that a moment has even begun to pass before my eyes. It seems to be another day -- we're all just waiting for the end of the year to come so that we can waste the precious days of our lives in a cramped house, playing addictive games like Bejeweled and chatting online and not even spending one moment outdoors. Has that what the internet has resulted us to?
Whatever crazyman created the addictive internet world should deserve to be shot. (But that opinion will probably change in the next 15 minutes.)

06:58;   I fully agree with what Firda is saying about Evan's post saying that with the latest round of press, there will be an even larger amount of servers needed for a better service. I think this is rather stupid to keep contributing money... especially since some people have been here for years! Why should the people who have been here for over 6 months -- before the actual press happened -- pay when the younger "bloggers" arriving are creating the problem?
Or maybe it's all my fault...

20010107

17:40;   Earlier today, our neighbor snapped in his front lawn. And the whole neighborhood peeked out of their windows to catch him pushing and screaming in the face of a scared teenage babysitter. And, as one, the neighborhood gasped when he didn't stop for two minutes, pushing and getting extremely close to the girl's crying face.
None of us know exactly what the babysitter did wrong. But we guess that it had to do with riding around on the four-wheeler that wasn't even theirs. Maybe he didn't want to be liable for any damage for it. And so he took out his grief on her. It was terrible seeing this girl who seemed so helpless against her hot-tempered "employer" and his problems. So she went in the house, got her belongings (she lived with them), and left in a friend's red Mustang. She was gone.
Soon afterwards, we watched the man ride around on the four-wheeler that wasn't his. We watched his two step-children ride aimlessly over three peoples' front lawns, ripping up grass and spewing it on their driveways. And, to top it all, we saw the girls run into the playset in their backyard. Not liable my ass. The man's crazy. He does the stupidest things like buying a five year old a pet snake. He goes to such great legnths to get beer on Sundays. And, worst of all, he turned his new wife (the original owner of the house) back onto the route of alcoholism and smoking -- a route that she had recently given up when she went to church. She stopped going to church when she met him -- hell, they were married in a bar. A bar that he recently had been working at, I assume.
I don't know. I just can't stand the bastard.

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