My little brother got his driver's license yesterday. I guess that means I've officially reached the tenth level of LOSER.

Granted, I am slowly easing my way back into driving. Except I will not drive the Jeep nor will I ever practice w/my mom again. I think it's a universal thing; mothers are horrible driving instructors for their children. I mean, it's kinda hard to offer advice when you're too busy clutching the dash, muttering seven Hail Marys. All of my friends have advised me to practice w/my dad or one of them. I agree. My dad is eeriely calm and collected when I'm taking turns at 40 while belting out Highway to Hell (true story!).

It may have something to do w/the funny cigarettes he smokes minutes before buckling in.

Anyway, my Christian friend emailed me a few days ago, complaining about the suckiness that is her life.

"I'm 18, no car, no boyfriend, the job is barely a job, and the highlight of my week is Dawson's Creek. I'm pathetic," she wrote.

Um, dude? I'm 20, no job, no boyfriend, no license, and I quote Dawson's Creek when asked advice.

Eh. At least I can feel good about boosting her self-esteem.

And besides, what do boys and cars and jobs have to do w/being pathetic? At least we're happy, right? Right.

She also wrote to tell me that she has a crush on her youth group leader. She doesn't think it's good cuz he's 'kinda older.'

Just how much older, I asked? Cuz, you know, age ain't nuthin' but a number.

I hope he's not fifty or something.

Fuck. I am so going to hell.

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