April 10th, 2004

no fear

dammit dammit dammit


I have History (8-10) before long, and my parents just told me that we are going on a trip. A "college-related" trip.

It's Easter weekend, mom and dad. No one will be there.

They haven't actually warned me as to where we will be going, but I have a feeling that it might just be Milwaukee. After all, they have wanted to go up there for some time as it is, so this will just give them more of an excuse to go.

...they just told me it will take most of the day. "Bring a few books," my mother said.

My father cut in. "No, just bring one."

My mother looked at him like he was crazy. "You're talking about our son."

She knows me too well.
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    pissed off
this is me

fuck me fuck me fuck you fuck MCASSHOLE


McJackass Cuntface Schmuckbag can fucking kiss my ass.

I get there at 7:55. Outside of C-Wing is Roger Straz. Less than two seconds after I arrive, a custodian comes by. We ask him to open the door, since we have a History session. He opens it.

The classroom is dark, the doors are locked. A sign on the door says "AP US History meets in H-106." So we get the custodian, ask him to open up H-Wing, and we go down.

Shock! No one is there. We stand there for a few seconds before I say, "I'll go check the Tech Center."

I check the Tech Center, and then I go back up to C-Wing. I see Greg Moy briefly, but he is too far away. I go down to C210. No one. I turn back, and Karri Drinka is standing there. "He's not here today, is he?" she asked. I shook my head.

We went back to H106. The four of us stand there for about ten minutes, listening to a barking dog (?!) and people talking in the distance. Greg is the first to leave. "I'll just walk home," he said. A minute later, Karri and I decide to leave. As we left, I chatted with her about how I have to walk home... so she offered me a ride. Roger decided to just stay at school, since he had a track meet... which started at 10:45. This was 8:10.

We ride. She almost hit a seagull that flew into the middle of the road, I braced myself, and then I reveal that I have a horrible tendency to do that sort of thing. She then shares how she almost hit a car that was turning into a gas station. Hmm. I can't say that that really made me very confident about her driving skills.

I get home. I bitch.

I am going to email McCumbox Jagoff Bitch about how we all deserve 500 points of extra credit. And then I will request for him to pay me the money I will be spending on breakfast in a few minutes, since I wouldn't be buying it if not for him. If he refuses both of those, I will ask him for a free-pass on the midterm we have next week. Because, of course, we have a midterm that he has not fucking TOLD US ABOUT.

My parents are continuing to be ambiguous about where we are going. GOD DAMMIT I HATE MY MOTHERFUCKING TWATSUCKING CHICKENBUCKING SON OF A BITCH OF A LIFE.

Wow. That felt good.
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