Fishy/Evaluation/Pi/Pregnant
March 14, 2004, 9:23 p.m.

He's bendable, he's twistable, he can be molded into anything and everything!

Yes, that's right, it's Clippit!

Clippit and I have become rather close friends since the start of the final draft of my research paper. I love to click Animate! and watch him do his paperclippy thing.

Look, he's flying away! Bye bye, Clippit!

Okay, enough of that.

I've been showing signs of PMS for the past few days now. I don't know why, really. I'm about a month away from my period-- which I'm sure you males wanted to know; mark your calender.

My eating habits are out of whack, as well.

For dinner I had two plates of fried rice, two plates of greens (on its own plate!), followed by ice cream... and a diet coke.

Followed by three cans of diet Sprite.

And an entire box full of mints. Not a few mints, mind you. 27!

I think I'm pregnant.

Everyone bow down and call me the Virgin Alli, for she is pregnant virgin!

Oh man, if I gave birth to Jesus he'd grow up to be a crackhead pimpin' hos on the corner.

"Bow down to me, bitch. I be Jesus!" *polishes gold teeth and adjusts purple pinstriped suit* "Where my money is, ho?"

Oh, I'm sure gonna get smited for that remark.

Either that, or slapped by Benjamin. Actually, that would be a horrible way to spend eternity-- I love Benjamin and all, but I would have to kill myself if I lived with him for a month, let alone eternity.

Tomorrow, I shall sign up for physics as a seventh period. This will be done so that I can skip next year's science course and devote it to an elective: Spanish 1.

I don't believe in taking languages as a seventh period. It's much too hard, and way too much studying. So Spanish I shall take next year. But that leaves me with a vocational art to do, and a practical art. Humph. It's so hard, man.

New World acceptance letters were supposedly sent out into the world today via mail. However, I doubt that's the case. It's Sunday, afterall. Last time I looked, mail isn't delivered on Sunday.

I've come to realize that I have no fucking clue whether or not I want to go, or whether or not I got in, for that matter.

I suppose I'll find out in a couple of days, now won't I?

In other news, The Fishkin Paper is almost due. It'll all be over soon, thank God. The whole paper has killed my stomach, and exhausted my mind. I've finished reading Siddharth, and I'll take that test tomorrow in English... and... that's it.

Evaluation sucked balls. We got *drumroll* Straight goods! That's right, people! A magnet school got straight goods. That is such a shame. Even Norland did better than us, and my lousy ass sister is in that band.

It's because we've got lousy trumpet players. You have no idea how bad our trumpet players are. And they all think they're the shit, too.

All I know is that I knew my part, and I didn't do too bad in sight reading.

Speaking of sight reading, that crap was retarded. We got a hard-ass march to sightread in cut time with mostly 16th notes and syncopated rhythms. That is hard.

I asked Melode how she enjoyed the march. She replied, "That shits was HARD! Only one playin' was Gamma." Gamaliel is one of the best clarinetist in three states. That boy made freakin' Tri-State, dawg.

Anyway, Alice and Adam were the main ones attempting to play, and I was barely hanging on myself. Because most of the parts were in unison, I concentrated hard on m'Adam.

Yes, m'Adam. He is my girlfriend.

Anyway, the second piece was dumb as hell. It was some stupid, easy overture, and I rested a whole bunch because I played the piccolo.

So you guys make me play like shit for the march, and then you don't want to hear me at all for the overture? Screw you, peeps.

I hate piccolo.

I miss Pi. He has a habit of leaving while I'm away. Dammit, Pi! Stop that! I'd like to say goodbye to you, occasionally, you know. *fume*

Haha, just kidding. I love ya.

That's all for now.

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