April 25, 2004 - 10:05 a.m.

Sundays mornings are the best. Coffee, ciagrettes, Spongebob, and snooping around the diaries of an unsuspecting population.

It appears that my beloved boyfriend wants nothing to do with me again this weekend. What makes a great man turn to total shit instantly? Apparently it is me.

I have to wash my lab coats today. I have an amazing ability to turn a white object of clothing into a coffee and ink stained blob my the end of the week.

Went to the mall yesterday to meet up with my father who was doing a bit of shopping. We chatted for a whole five minutes before he had to go. How lucky for me. It is so embarassing being in public with him. He just..does stuff. Let me give you an example.

Our mall, like all other malls, has nice little benches scattered about so weary shoppers can rest a bit. There was an elderly man keeping to himself on one side of the bench, his old bony arms draped over the arm rest. There was the WHOLE REST IF THE BENCH free, and my father had to sit directly next to this poor old soul, practically on his feeble lap. How fucking odd. The old man gazed at me with wide, terrified eyes, telepathically pleading for help. Then my father begin a loud conversation regarding his prostate. Other than fake my own coronary right there (I know the old guy was thinking the same thing), the only thing I could think to do was instanly pretend to remember I needed something at FYE. Fortunately for the old man, my father said he had to get going at that point.

As he walked me to FYE, I realized now I would have to in and buy something less he discover my fib. I was picking out a CD, and who do I run into? Out of all people, who works at FYE in MY mall? That would be T, the guy I dated last summer that I dumped to go out with Dave (and that is working out so well). We chatted for a few minutes, and T gave me the evil eye the whole time.

I have realized I am safer at home. Looks like a nice day out, too. Maybe I should bring the lawnchairs out and read in nature.

If you can call my front yard nature.

previous - next

email: