Slightly Better
April 27, 2004, 6:12 p.m.

Here's a bit o' lightheartedness for those who were gettin' caught up in the whole depression shit. Granted, I'm still not quite myself, but I don't htink you should be subjected to such depressing matters all of the time.

The funniest thing happened earlier today. I didn't really laugh, as much as coughed, but soda ended coming out of my nose. Twice.

The first time was when I was pointing out that the penis on the handout I received for Health to study with was uber small. We're talking 1.5 inches.

"How would you know, Allison?" asked one.

I winked at them and took a sip of my soda.

Alice gasped. "You've sucked Drews cock!"

I choked and coughed, and felt a burning sensation as the carbonated beverage passed through my nostrils. It wasn't until I wiped the soda off of my face that could deny it. Puh-lease, as if I'd ever let that boy come anywhere near me.

Besides, I definitely won't be doing anything of the sort now that I know that over 500 million sperm are released for every ejaculation. That's just nasty.

Anyway, soda came up once again, because it wasn't fully out of my nasal passage. I sneezed with out warning, and before I had a chance to cover my nose, soda came splurting out in every which direction.

Now that is nasty.

Hope you've enjoyed yourself.

Now, one of you people have approached me about something I wrote two entries ago, and then got upset because I didn't want to talk, nor did I need your help. This has brought something to my attention:

You guys, I do not write in my diary to spread about news or to give me your sympathy. I don't want it, people. So please, if I tell you I don't want to talk, then just let it be. Otherwise, we'll both say things that'll keep us from speaking to eachother.

Okay? Okay.

That's all for now.

Ta-ta.

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