This Atrocity I Call a Love Life?

Well, here are all the males that have- throughout freshman year- affected this thing you could almost call a love life.

With boy one, things have changed- I'm completely over him. Boy two: how the hell could I have ever liked that thing? Boy three- well, he's kind of faded out. Boy four is avoiding me, and that pisses me off. Boy five, I think I'm in love with. Boy six won't bloody well leave me alone, and that really pisses me off. Boy seven likes me (I'm pretty sure), and he's just adorable.

There you go. If you know me, you're probably going, "Seven?! YOU?!" And my reply will be, "Yeah."

By the way, I just have to say this and hope that the right person sees it: "Thanks for the Gatorade, man." 'Cause I can't say it to your face. Maybe someone will pass it along?

Songwriting...

It's one really easy way to make things awkward. I think that all songwriters should receive a manual. What would be in this manual, you ask? Well, for starters, it would probably tell you in big, bold letters on the first page- possibly even before the table of contents, right after the publication info page- that you should never, under any circumstances, inform the person about whom the song is written that the song is in fact written about them. Nor should you use their actual name within the song. Either make up a name or omit the whole name problem entirely, adding a term of endearment with the same number of syllables ("babe," "sweetheart," "oh, baby,").

Those would be the kinds of things in the songwriters' manual. It shouldn't be written by Taylor Swift, I believe we can all agree. She tends to break all preconceived rules of songwriting.

Today has most certainly not been a fairy tale, dammit.

I presume you can guess what happened from the above rant.

Ugh. Males suck (no offense intended towards Logan or any of my other precious male followers- you guys can't help the shape of your genitals; it's only natural that we think you suck sometimes).

Some Guys...

1. Are smarter than we females tend to think they are.
2. Can actually be pretty romantic when they want to be.
3. Like a girl who isn't afraid to laugh at something vulgar.
4. Don't care if you boss them around every now and then.
5. Aren't afraid to roll their eyes when you do girly shit like jumping up and down.
6. Can put up with up to forty-five whole straight minutes of shopping.
7. Like to laugh with you and at you.
8. Aren't as big of pigs as some people think.
9. Cry.
10. Really do mean it when they say sorry.

But only some guys.

Life is Technical

I went to a movie with a few friends: Rachel, Julianna, Jennie, John, and Bree. Brandon (ugh), Steven, Patrick (and his girlfriend), and Ryan (and his girlfriend) were going to come, but those two girls couldn't make it, so Patrick and Ryan decided not to come. So, it was girls' night out. Heh. 

Went to see When In Rome. It was mine and Rachel's second time. Still just as great. It was so great, in fact, that I'm downloading an AVI cam from TPB and putting it on a USB for my dad- his DVD player has a USB port, which he is very excited about. O_o

I'm using Monolingual to get rid of the many, many extra languages. (EDIT: It's finished. Cleared up 412 MB on hard drive, I swear to Jeebus.)

And... I forgot. 

Meh.

I'm at dad's.

Valentine's Day

Yep, the big V. The one all the singles hate, all the females with dates cherish, and all the males with dates... well, they aren't always exactly all about it.

My school does a few things to celebrate Valentine's Day. We can fill out matchmaker sheets for free, then pay a dollar to get our results (which only contain the names of people of the opposite gender who match you- and of course, who filled out their sheets).

We can also send and receive Candygrams. What are Candygrams? Candygrams, my dear, unenlightened friend, are small bags of candy with valentine cards attached. I got a Batman one with a nice bunch of candy. I also got a truffle, a Twix, a Snickers, and a bag of Valentine's Day M&Ms from Julianna. She's so sweet...

I sent a bunch of Candygrams: Jenny, John, Jonathon, Katie, Tyler, and Kristen. Well, I mean, I didn't really send them. It was more like Jenny decided she wanted to spend over a fifth of her allowance (around fifteen out of fifty dollars) on being a good person for V-day, so she dragged me over to the table in the caf to get some with her so she wouldn't look stupid (as if having another person there with you when you buy an ass-load of Valentine's makes you look less retarded).

She sent me one, so of course I sent her one. I haven't eaten my candy yet, since I'm in the school library and all, and I'm focused on not breaking any more rules than absolutely necessary.

She sent one to some guy in theatre that one of my friends likes, and signed that friend's name (kinda a bitch thing to do). She also sent one to a teacher everyone is pretty much convinced is lesbian (coughcoughMsO'Nealcoughcough), and signed it from the goofiest male teacher we could think of (that would be Nauert, for any Harpeth-ers reading... yes, she thought it would be funny... yeah, it kinda was).

Home Alone

No, not the movie (though that movie is side-splittingly hilarious).

What I mean is that when I am at home, probably 75% of the time I'm awake here, I'm alone. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I avoid home when I can. I'm always going over to friends' houses, going bowling with friends, etc. This weekend, I was barely home at all until now. I went home from school with Julianna, and spent the night at her house (it was me, her, and Jenny). After that, Jenny's mom dropped me off at my house, where I stayed for, like, an hour until Katie came and picked me up to bowling with her and John.

What does this mean? No clue.