October 16th, 2002


(no subject)

I feel like shit on a stick.
Headache did not go away all night
Therefore, little/no sleep occurred.
I managed to doze off at about seven. Which was a mistake.
Woke up at 10. Realized I slept through English.
Have Algebra in a few hours, but do not think I can stand listening to the professor's droning voice, as the clicking of the keys and the brightness of the monitor is causing agony.
However, I have homework I ought to turn in.
HOWEVER, I have an A in that class, and a little missed homework assignment or two will not kill me.
Oh, crap. I have to go to the production of Much Ado About Nothing tonight. I have to buy tickets this afternoon. Rrgh. Hope headache goes away by then; I enjoy Shakespeare and would like to be able to handle hearing the play and seeing the lights.
At the moment I feel like I am going to throw up.
This is such a lovely way to start my day.
I am taking more painkillers and going back to bed. I'll try again later.
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(no subject)

Well look who's alive.
My hair is down because I say so. It's cool enough out and there's no Houston humidity to turn my head into a frizzball (Pervert crew will remember what it looked like Saturday night. Frizzball. My kingdom for straight hair). And I'm lazy. That too.

My mother called to say not to email her for a while, since she wouldn't reply. Apparently she and everyone else at the dialysis center have contracted a virus.
Now, is it just me, or is the thought of a bunch of doctors and nurses trying to figure out what to do about a computer virus kind of amusing to everyone else? Perhaps it was this phrase:
"My computer has a virus... I think it's ebola..."
... Yes, mum.
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    I have "American Pie" stuck in my head

(no subject)

Oh yes!
Spanish today was made highly entertaining through exessive use of Kevin. Not feyr, but the Kevin that sits next to me in Spanish.
He told me the tale of his friend, who told his younger brother that all guys really had three balls, and he was a freak for only having two. Henceforth, whenever they argued, the elder would call the younger "two-baller", and the younger would run off in shamed tears. He does not know how long it took the poor lad to figure out his brother was joking.

We also had a good deal of laughter over what was and was not 'art'. He stick some bolt-thing he'd found on the ground in the mouth of an empty soda bottle and I proudly proclaimed it art. Yes.
I mentioned Kevin (feyr) and he gave me a strange look. I explained that he was not the only Kevin, and that the name of the boyfriend I'd referred to before shared his name.
"But I'm Kevin!"
"Well, then, there's more than one of you."
"Oh. We are the Kevins. You will be assimilated."

And then there was the incident with him removing his pants. Or at least unzipping them. Okay, techically not unzipping the fly. There were zippers on his pockets. I told him to 'zip up his pants', pointing at them. He almost fell over. 'Twas great. I ought to be shot. Then before the Spanish lab he unzipped one leg of his pants (for his pants were the nifty sort, where they can be zipped to shorts) and I yelped and told him not to take of his pants. He threw the pants leg at me. I put it in my backpack and he sat through the spanish lab looking very silly. I did give it back. Eventually.

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