I was planning on watching the meteor shower tonight but it's fucking hazy. Oh well. It probably would have depressed me anyway cuz haze or no haze, I live in a suburban hellhole and can't see shit, regardless.

R-E-C-A-P

Saturday- Jerkface did not come, but I did finish cleaning my room. Instead, May and her brother came over and we balanced our checkbooks while discussing the pros and cons of capitalism.

No, we didn't.

We got really drunk and listened to Flipper.

Oh, oh! Inebriated musings! Inebriated musings!

Title- Where the Hell Are They?

"Black T-shirt, dark jeans. Glasses and Bright Eyes. A bandage on my wrist and a cigarette in my hand. I am so fucking emo, I could cry. Ha ha. Get it? Thank Superman for the gin, however warm it may be. It's not like the chill could stay, anyway. My hand around the bottle would suck it up like a whale eating plankton. Killer whales excluded. So, anyway. I am trying not to think about boys and it's kinda working cuz right now all I can think about is what a goddamn lightweight I am. Oh, fuck. Is love real, Conor? If it is, it sure as hell isn't making you happy. You know what? I think I believe that if I read every word that Tom Robbins has ever written, I will be OK."

Bet you're glad I decided to type that all out for you, huh?

Anyway, I ended up talking to Jerkface at, like, three in the morning. We were both drunk and you know what that means. OK, no, you don't. Cuz you're probably thinking something perverted like phone sex or something and it was really just me yelling a lot.

I honestly don't remember what was said except I kind of think he told me that I broke his heart and I kind of think I said "Shut the fuck up, Jerkface." Yeah. It really helps when you discuss things while shitfaced. It makes it so much easier. Yeah.

I'm being sarcastic, by the way.

Christ. I really don't know what to do. I don't even know how to explain why I don't know what to do. It almost feels like all this shit bouncing around in my head is normal. Like liking him is fucking second nature. And that kind of scares me. Something needs to change. Soon. And that something is probably me getting the fuck over him.

Why does it feel like I've written this all before?

So, yeah. Fuck this. I don't want to talk about him anymore. It makes me feel funny.

Hey, according to this lady that called my boss this afternoon, my supervisor and I are "lying, incompetent high school students." Yeah. And we should have totally been kissing her ass and fucking ourselves sideways cuz she's a physician and aren't we aware that that puts her at the top of the goddamn food chain? My boss was amused for reasons that would probably piss off this lady even more. Have I mentioned that I love my boss? Cuz I do.

Dudes, on Sunday? I spent the whole day puking. It was funny. No, really. Listen. OK. So whenever I would attempt to think about something that wasn't trivial, I would throw up. Isn't that hilarious? OK, no, it's not. That's kind of sad. I did get to stay home from work, though.

I'm going to go to bed now. Hopefully, last Saturday's episode of SNL will give me happy, full-of-sweet-man-love dreams involving a certain Mr. Fallon and Mr. Kelso.

Damn.

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