I HATE PHONES!!!

My mom is evil.

I mean, what kind of mother MAKES you sit for two hours engaging in precisely your irrational fear? Did Grama make her sit in a snake pit or something?

Calling . . . calling about 100 homes . . . for TWO HOURS. Most of the ones I called, too, were having money crises; I didn't get any of the nice people that wanted to donate $100 (so I could ring the cowbell, some weird practice of theirs) or anything. They were all having crises or didn't want to and you could tell they were annoyed or else I had depressed them thoroughly. Do you know how AWKWARD this makes me feel???

Mom's all like, "Keep calling . . . SHNNAAA!!!" every time I wanted to leave or was even eating a cookie.

I almost called the Jonases on accident. I can just imagine that-- Mrs. Jonas died a year ago, Mr. Jonas would recognize my voice, he would know who I was . . . I would seriously start crying . . .

I almost started crying when the first guy I called, practically, was home on leave from the army and taking care of the house since his dad was in the hospital.

I DID start crying on the way out. I was also tense as heck. My arms both hurt and my back feels like it's on fire. It's like exactly what Roderick does in our story . . . I may have voodooed him to myself, accidentally . . . darn it . . . don't convert to Catholicism, Amy . . . *cough* anyway . . . (long story there, guys . . . ).

No one even seemed to care to listen to me complain. I know it was probably annoying and I probably sounded stupid, but, you know, this is like my deepest fear after atomic bombs. Honestly . . .

Mom just made fun of me in front of all the Dollars for Scholars ladies about how I'm so pathetic, afraid of phones . . . I hope she sounded like a total bitch . . .

Mom is a serious, serious sadist.

Thanks to her, too, I haven't studied for my Economics test.

I need to find a hankie for my part as Ermengarde. Brock and I cannot polka to save our lives.

In other news, I think I am doing Fine Arts in Academic Superbowl. The theme is Russia. This is cool, for Arts-- maybe not so much for English, though . . . but GUESS WHAT??? The pieces we have to know are Pictures At An Exhibition, Polovetsian Dances, and MARCHE SLAVE!!!

HA HA HA!!!

I love Russian music! So dark, so emotional, angry and depressed, so minor, so evil, so BEAUTIFUL!!!

Muhaha!

I HATE PHONES!!!

My mom is evil.

I mean, what kind of mother MAKES you sit for two hours engaging in precisely your irrational fear? Did Grama make her sit in a snake pit or something?

Calling . . . calling about 100 homes . . . for TWO HOURS. Most of the ones I called, too, were having money crises; I didn't get any of the nice people that wanted to donate $100 (so I could ring the cowbell, some weird practice of theirs) or anything. They were all having crises or didn't want to and you could tell they were annoyed or else I had depressed them thoroughly. Do you know how AWKWARD this makes me feel???

Mom's all like, "Keep calling . . . SHNNAAA!!!" every time I wanted to leave or was even eating a cookie.

I almost called the Jonases on accident. I can just imagine that-- Mrs. Jonas died a year ago, Mr. Jonas would recognize my voice, he would know who I was . . . I would seriously start crying . . .

I almost started crying when the first guy I called, practically, was home on leave from the army and taking care of the house since his dad was in the hospital.

I DID start crying on the way out. I was also tense as heck. My arms both hurt and my back feels like it's on fire. It's like exactly what Roderick does in our story . . . I may have voodooed him to myself, accidentally . . . darn it . . . don't convert to Catholicism, Amy . . . *cough* anyway . . . (long story there, guys . . . ).

No one even seemed to care to listen to me complain. I know it was probably annoying and I probably sounded stupid, but, you know, this is like my deepest fear after atomic bombs. Honestly . . .

Mom just made fun of me in front of all the Dollars for Scholars ladies about how I'm so pathetic, afraid of phones . . . I hope she sounded like a total bitch . . .

Mom is a serious, serious sadist.

Thanks to her, too, I haven't studied for my Economics test.

I need to find a hankie for my part as Ermengarde. Brock and I cannot polka to save our lives.

In other news, I think I am doing Fine Arts in Academic Superbowl. The theme is Russia. This is cool, for Arts-- maybe not so much for English, though . . . but GUESS WHAT??? The pieces we have to know are Pictures At An Exhibition, Polovetsian Dances, and MARCHE SLAVE!!!

HA HA HA!!!

I love Russian music! So dark, so emotional, angry and depressed, so minor, so evil, so BEAUTIFUL!!!

Muhaha!