No Shame - 04.17.02 - 10:56 pm
Look!

Well, Spring was nice while it lasted.

A few months ago, I took a first page critique class and one of the novels we were asked to comment on started w/the line "Florida has no seasons."

When we were asked our opinion on the author, someone said "Well, she's obviously a Yankee. Floridians know that we have seasons. It's just different here."

Word up, yo.

April hasn't even reached menopause, yet the days are hot, humid, and every afternoon brings thunderstorm warnings. Sure, it will get hotter and the air has yet to reach the consistancy of pudding, but as of Monday, Summer is here.

I have really got to stop talking about the weather.

Anyway, I had a dream about That Boy. A sexy dream, goddamnit. I woke up sweating and shaking like I had just had a nightmare. There's a joke in there somewhere, but I will let you find it.

I haven't spoken to That Boy in weeks.

The last time we spoke, I had called him to ask if he had the time to read some stories. He said, of course, and how come you haven't been sending me stories lately? Because I've been working on these stories and I could really use some feedback, I told him.

Call me.

This was almost a month ago.

In the words of Bon Jovi: You give love a bad name.

I'm really tempted to get sloppy drunk and call him. Maybe I'll sing him hair ballads or something until I'm too embarassed to even look at him, let alone have a crush on him.

Then again, he's witnessed my Copacabana song and dance number, in its entirety, so maybe embarassment isn't the best cure.

I have no shame, you know.

In June, it will be four years that I've liked this boy. Too long. Too fucking long.

I'm not a goddamn teenager anymore.

No shame, indeed.

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