saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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Planning a weekend. Now to work on the follow-through.
The back of my neck itches. And I've been scratching it all morning.
I have a low hairline. So this means that with all the scratching, the hairs at the nape that are unwilling to stay in my ponytail are now standing out like I've stapled small furry animals to my neck. Of course, considering how fine my hair is, I suppose I'd have to amend that statement to say: "small, furry, tragically-balding animals."
I feel like I should say something here about the itching thing, though. Like, that I don't have lice or dandruff or some sort of exotic disease. Although, really…if you have to have a disease, it's a much more pleasant idea to be able to say, pretentiously, "Yes, well. Mine is exotic, though. Less than one percent of the world's population and all."
Ummm. I think I might have something interesting to say sooner or later. I'm in an awkward phase right now. Wearing braces, too tall and lanky, and will a boy ever want to kiss me? Ever? Oh, god. What if Brenda starts her periods before I do? I will die. Just DIE.
Awkward phase o' mine consists of having the constant desire to be writing something, but having absolutely nothing to say. So, lucky people, you get a lot of descriptions of what I ate, or what I want to eat, or neck scratching, or…uh…what I'd like to eat tomorrow. And…
Um…and…
……
So this weekend is going to be a big deal for me.
(Hey, I appear to have gotten some Desperate, Flailing Attempt at Entertainment on you. You might want to wipe it off. No, it's just there. Other side. Yes, okay, you got it now.)
I'm actually considering going out to see a movie. To a theater and everything. Sitting in a scummy chair. Hatinghatinghatingohthevicioushating the people who talk during the film and kick the back of my scummy chair. Contemplating and then rejecting and then contemplating and then rejecting snacks that cost $10 each and could easily make me gain 50 pounds by just thinking about them. Then thinking about them and salivating all throughout the movie. Freezing my ass off in the traditional sub-zero temperatures maintained in movie theaters nationwide, and then hearing my mother's voice from my youth, "Take a jacket. Seriously, make sure you take a jacket. It might get cold. And besides, you'll want to hang it over the back of your chair to make sure you don't pick up lice from anyone who sat there before you. (See scratching paranoia above.) But if you're cold and you're wearing your jacket…okay, maybe you'd better take two jackets…"
That's about as far as I've gotten with my plan. Haven't decided what to see. Haven't decided on a theater. Haven't decided how pathetic it would be to go by myself. Definitely haven't decided if I care.
Oh, wait. I have decided that it will be a matinee.
Wow. I'm a planning bitch, I am. Look at me go.
Go, me. Go.
11:45 a.m. - 2003-04-04
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