something to wear.
not even close to the finish line, but exciting enough.
needs a waistband, another thing, a seamstress who doesnt suck and a sewing machine that isnt Joyce (that old hag, shes completely incapable of sewing anything-blame it on the tequila.)
joyce is my sewing machine.
anyway. jens is in his room sleeping and im half-tempted to run in there screaming "wednesday is jensday!!" and running out. that lucky little kid, his name rhymes with everything. jens/friends/mercedes-benz/mens/pens...all the cool words.
my face is peeling off du to some exessive scrubbin' action by me and some acid burning off my flesh. its only acid, kills the pimples,right? it wont do any good if i catch a flesh-eating virus. or if i end up stranded in a desert and all of my skin just dries up. this is supposed to make me hate the acid wash worse, but it actually really puts my life in perspective...just kidding. pimples stink alot more than the crack of my skin everytime i open my jaw.
school tomorrow- ive got to deal with a whole bunch of perverts and cranky old ladies. im wearing an ugly outfit on purpose, i think. then, bus into town to meet with sir bryan.