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Sunday, April 13th, 2003
3:28p - It Intensifies
So I get up at three thinking things will be chilly chill; I'm going to a punk show, I don't really need to look special. Especially since I'm not punk and don't particularly enjoy much punk music. So I get up at three, because I have to be at my friend's house at five. A ten minute drive, which means I have an hour and 50 minutes to get ready.

Or so I thought.

Since it's important, and I need to be somewhere, there is someone in the bathroom [the ONE fucking bathroom in our 4-person household!!!!!] and they're taking their sweet time. Fuckers! There is a whole battery of things I've tried to get them to build a humble tiny bathroom downstairs, you know, since it's already plumbed for a shower AND a toilet... so basically they wouldn't have to do much of fucking anything.

So what am I left doing? I am left waiting, posting, and if I'm late and don't hurry being seen as a flake. I am trying to shed my flaky image, and NOW I know why it stays.

So what do I really do? I think I broke my left wrist slamming the door. I'm definitely getting better. Before I would just pout. My desire for destruction has returned.

Also: if I referred to "the boy with the parents" who would I be talking about? It's a celebrity. I think there are two people who would know right off. And now, I prepare to see Thrice, who I know nothing about and will probably not enjoy. Anyone know anything about them? Besides that $12 is fucking steep for a show?

5000


current mood: one fucking bathroom?!?!

(3 comments |BUH)


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