One of these things first

I just lost my entry. DAMN IT ALL TO HELL.

Let me re-begin. (I have the uncanny ability to re-write, almost word-for-word, entries that I have lost.)

I’m updating in the afternoon. It’s kind of early. Are you suprised?

In a not-entirely-unexpected fit of negative-emotion (henceforth called, since it can be: anger, rage, sadness, fear, etc.), I tore up some more pictures last night.
I was thumbing through the older “Charlie Bone” books before going to bed, and out fell two prom pictures (from last year; I didn’t get any this year). Needless to say, simply tearing them in half (that is, to separate that asshole (BRL) and myself) was not satisfactory. I also tore his face up into little itty bits. I think that I’m still more mad at Azreal, but I can take my anger out on him just as well. He is responsible for himself (contrary to how he has acted for the past year).

What a jerk. (Though, really, I might be one, too.)

I still haven’t found a new design. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been looking. Whoops, I just got distracted, doing just that. I’ll look later, not now.

So Missrey is planning a huge toga party while she is house-sitting next week. I, in my humblest of opinions, don’t think this is such a smart idea. I mean, having a toga party in itself can be a rowdy bunch of nonsense (hello: it’s a TOGA party, and those Greeks sure got down with the wine when they had Dionysus’ toga parties), but having it in someone else’s house? That just sounds like trouble waiting to happen. And maybe I’m just a low-key party person (or maybe I haven’t the faintest damn idea what I’m taling about), but that’s definately not something I’ll be doing while I’m house-sitting (and I’m even staying in my own house).

Right about this point, I lost my entry. And I caught back up.

Also, Missrey and I are going in 50-50 for some “liquid panty droppers” (to quote Nick) for our two weeks of fiestas noches. Mainly, that means Mike’s Berry and Original Lemonades, Smirnoff Twisters and some Corona (just as predicted), but golly, that sounds like a lot of booze. I must be really out of the loop at how much people can put back.

Speaking of putting it back, I was quite suprised at how Missrey was affected by the shots we had last night (shots meaning we each had one). It was messing with her vision, while it had no affect on me. Apparently I can take it pretty well.

This diary should just be called the “Valerie-Alcohol Website,” shouldn’t it? That seems to be all I talk about. How annoyingly stupid.

I can understand now why so many people abandon their diaries. When you’re living such an emotionally unfulfilling/shallow life, what on earth is there to write about? This past year, when I had problems and issues and DRAMA (that word is now like an obscenity to me), of course writing was fulfilling and useful. But now? I have nothing to say. I’m suprised you’re even reading. Are you reading? I probably wouldn’t be. I’m probably not! (I re-read all of my entries two or three times.)

Why on earth do people want to live like this? It’s so meaningless.

Om, dudes,
-V.