Another Wednesday
November 03, 2004, 10:47 p.m.

I hate Diaryland. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. It's like the worst thing in the world.

You know, Andrew, I don't think people would mind if you started getting sponsors and placing their ads randomly on the site. You don't have to place it as a banner, just make it into a logo and stick it somewhere. You'd have money, and everyone would be able to update when they want to. We all win. Sheesh.

Anyway, today marks the fall of the United States-- at least in my opinion. My father was talking about how Bush will be able to put more people into the Supreme Court, which ain't good.

That's all we need, is a bunch of intolerant, homophobic, pro-life, tree-huggin' hippies rulin' the gov't.

Bunch of phony bastards, they are.

I'm movin' to Cun-ay-duh.

Kitten is gettin' big, and doin' his little thang about the house. He's learned to do a few backflips here and there-- especially when chasing bugs about the house -- and can also be picked up in any position without fret.

You can even hold him upside down, and he won't freak.

I've created a monster.

Speaking of monsters, I haven't seen my nephews in what feels like forever. I'm kind of starting to miss them. Well, Marquise, anyway.

Okay, I take that back. I miss Scooter's loud mouth, too. Tamika, send your children over once in a while.

To-morrow is our homecoming game, and we shall go out on the field and march. How will we do? Well, it'll look the same as it did last year, which won't be pretty. Our field performances are always terrible, 'cause we've got very, very little experience with it. So our lines will be crooked, we shall forget our music, and everything will fall apart.

Yay.

Speaking of music, Mr. Frick used to play trumpet! I knew he played an instrument, because he'd often have conversations with me about band stuff, and today he told me about what he used to do with his band director's car (more on that in a sec), and Kosho, the bari sax Christian Boy (who probably will never get laid until he's in his late thirties), said that Frick was a trumpet player.

Cool.

Anyway, Frick, on several occasions, put his director's car in neutral, and then pushed it in these spots where you couldn't back the car out.

"How would he get the car out?" Artiom asked.
"He had to buy a tow truck every time. I think we did it about ten times throughout my highschool life."

Too funny. I'd do that, but Cidel would probably kill me.

My 9 month anniversary came and went. That was awesome. 'Cept we have school. Next month, our 11 month anniversary is on Christmas. Pi will be spending that day with me, since his pretend-Jehova-Witness-of-a-father will not be celebratin'.

That's 'cause no one wants to get him anything.

Mom and I have started planning what we shall get for Pioneer. I'm still contemplating whether I should give him a certain gift for his birthday (December 8), save it for Christmas (December 25), or give it to him on our 1st year anniversary (January 25). Oh, the decisions.

Well, that's all for now. I'm sorry this entry was terribly boring. Maybe one day I'll write something interesting.

Ta-ta.

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