We failed at acquiring a trampolene tonight. But we did succeed at singing "happy birthday" like a bunch of queers, according to Scottie's mom. Looks like the trampolene is going to have to happen tomorrow night when everyone is dumbfound by their intoxication.

I didn't hang out with Garrison tonight. Oh well. If it was meant to happen, it will.

Blockbuster boy needs to stop finding me at school. It's starting to scare the pants off me, and quite frankly, I need those right now becuase it's damn cold outside.

I need another change in my life. I need to stop finding boys who I share absolutely nothing with.

I should call Mike back, but it's late now. Sorry.

And there's something majestic about Bob walking around Drake St. with his pants at his ankles sporting red boxers with white polka dots on them. But it gets even better when he loses the boxers too. It was something I could've done without seeing, you know, the franks and beans.

I'm turning into a "I'm not going to take shit from any boy ever again" type. I think this will be fun. That's right, I'm tired of dealing with their shit just as I am tired of dealing with girl's shit as well.... Just be fucking nice to me, damnit. I'm not a toilet, so I shouldn't be shit on.