I had a veggie spring roll. It looked delicious. But then my dad called my name and I turned to look at him, foolishly forgetting that I have the world's worst sense of balance of late (I can't even drive straight. I'm really hoping massive quantities of sleep will fix this, or I'm gonna wind up a smear on the highway, probably taking a few unsuspecting saps out with me. And of all the ways to die, a smear on the highway is one of the least appealing to me.). Spring roll, meet the floor. SPLAT! It smelled good, too, but I know what's been on our floor. So no spring roll for Jenni. I am assuming this is god's way of saying my fat ass does not need the calories; and I will eat some canteloupe instead. Heh. Canteloupe. Fun word.
If a certain someone does not stop fucking with a certain someone else's mind, I will have to kill her. Plain and simple. Don't think I won't. Biz-natch. The least she could do is attempt to get help, if she is indeed doing this unconsciously. If she's doing it purposely, then she deserves to die and I have no qualms about being the one to make that happen. *cracks knuckles* There are few things that get to me, and fucking with someone I care about is one of them. Do. Not. Do. It.
I cannot tell if Nicole being emotional started this or if me being emotional started this, but we are both rather emotional at the moment. Damn the psychic mind link. Damn it to hell. I am going to go clean my room now and look at things from elementary school and beyond and be as nostalgic as I get. Which is really not that nostalgic. hrm.