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Dear diary, today started off normally. I skipped radio because it’s a suck-ass class because of the teacher who undresses girls and boys alike with his eyes and looks like he’s so depressed he’s about to blow up the school.
As I saw the Firemen’s truck outside the school after media-ethics (a lecture by students about children’s porn), I thought he might have. Tommy sat outside and told the shocking story: someone had come into the computerroom and shouted “You all have to get out!” at her after she had ignored the firealarm. Turns out, it was a gas-leak. I was shivering outside for five minutes before I could get back inside and get nauseated by the memories of Gassy.
After that I had an extremely boring Language Control session of which the first half hour was the only fun. I winked to Mischa and showed him a lollipop. Then I took out a second one and pointed at him. “If you want him, come and claim him”-like. I winked and pouted that he had to come and get it while he was gesturing “Throw it! Throw it you darned woman!”
In the end I threw his across the class, almost hitting the teacher in the process. I opened mine and for half an hour we were both enjoying an apple-flavoured lollipop. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do…
After that class I asked him if I could accompany him to Utrecht because I wanted to check out some fabric for my newly designed cloak. So we sat in the train talking about nothing. (And, dear diary, when I say ‘nothing’ you know I mean sex).
I got home at six, no market so no fabric either but I bought little skulls which I sewed to my Chucks. Yeah baby! Then I watched Ally McBeal (Still waiting for the frog-tennis) and did the dishes and hung the laundry to dry. Tommy’s out to Deventer for school I suppose and I’m listening to this cd Johnny lent me.
And the movie The Dreamwalker lent me doens’t work because I don’t have an appropriate decompressor. Damnit. Well…back to the telly it is then.
Love ya, dear diary, couldn’t live without ya!
As I saw the Firemen’s truck outside the school after media-ethics (a lecture by students about children’s porn), I thought he might have. Tommy sat outside and told the shocking story: someone had come into the computerroom and shouted “You all have to get out!” at her after she had ignored the firealarm. Turns out, it was a gas-leak. I was shivering outside for five minutes before I could get back inside and get nauseated by the memories of Gassy.
After that I had an extremely boring Language Control session of which the first half hour was the only fun. I winked to Mischa and showed him a lollipop. Then I took out a second one and pointed at him. “If you want him, come and claim him”-like. I winked and pouted that he had to come and get it while he was gesturing “Throw it! Throw it you darned woman!”
In the end I threw his across the class, almost hitting the teacher in the process. I opened mine and for half an hour we were both enjoying an apple-flavoured lollipop. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do…
After that class I asked him if I could accompany him to Utrecht because I wanted to check out some fabric for my newly designed cloak. So we sat in the train talking about nothing. (And, dear diary, when I say ‘nothing’ you know I mean sex).
I got home at six, no market so no fabric either but I bought little skulls which I sewed to my Chucks. Yeah baby! Then I watched Ally McBeal (Still waiting for the frog-tennis) and did the dishes and hung the laundry to dry. Tommy’s out to Deventer for school I suppose and I’m listening to this cd Johnny lent me.
And the movie The Dreamwalker lent me doens’t work because I don’t have an appropriate decompressor. Damnit. Well…back to the telly it is then.
Love ya, dear diary, couldn’t live without ya!
