*pretends to be TV announcer*
And now, we have the latest events in Utter Insanity's life! Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah.
Okay, here's the actual entry:
I auditioned for a play this evening, and when my dad picked me up, he was reading the Calvin and Hobbes comic I had brought. When I got back into the car, I saw that this paper, which I had made sure was buried under my books and notebook and stuff, was facing up.
It wasn't much, just this paper that I had doodled my crush's first and last name on...stating that I like her, A LOT. And I had written some song lyrics on it: "I feel pretty/Oh so pretty/I feel pretty and witty and GAY!!" (note the emphasis on the "gay" part) Then I had lyrics from Queen's song "Now I'm Here" written on there: "Don't I love her so/Don't I love her so/Yes you made me LIVE AGAIN!!"
I've already told my parents that I'm gay (although I'm not entirely sure they believe me), so if he did look at it, it probably wasn't a surprise. But STILL. Gah, I feel so embarassed. *blushes*
On a happier note, when I carpooled home with my crush, another friend, and my sister today, I got to play with my crush's hair. *sighs* She was in the seat in front of me, and I just started playing with her hair, and she let me! She said it felt nice. My hand got this numb, tingly feeling in it; sort of like how your foot feels when it falls asleep, but milder. It was really pleasant. I luuuurve her hair. Her blonde highlights look like spun gold when light shines on them. Oh crud, now I'm getting all poetic. I can't help it. She's so pretty... *sighs again*
She saw the "L" I wrote on my hand yesterday with pen during a boring class. (Her name begins with L. Which has nothing to do with why I was writing that on my hand. *shifty eyes*) I got all embarrassed and flustered, saying, "It doesn't stand for anything." She thought for a moment, then said, "It stands for *************." (crush's name blotted out here) It wasn't even a question or anything. She just knew it was her name. I was still red and embarrassed, but I never actually confirmed it. At least, I don't think I did. It's all kind of a blur now.
Argh. I can't believe she saw that.
Argh. I can't believe she saw that.
Between this and the incident with my dad, I really need to work on covering up my tracks. I'm no good at keeping my own secrets. A friend can tell me a secret and I won't tell a soul, but I just can't keep quiet about my own. Kind of ironic, if you think about it.
Now we'll get back to the less sappy parts.
There was a snake in my bathroom yesterday.
It wasn't that big; it was only about half a foot long, and a centimeter wide. It had been hiding in my pile of clothes while I took a bath. I had been taking a bath, and I had gotten out of the tub, and picked up my pajama shirt, only to find this little dark-colored snake underneath my clothes pile.
I got dressed, went upstairs, told my grandmother who had come to visit about it, who came downstairs with a plastic container and a spatula, scooped it into the container, and dumped it outside. (Whoo, now that was a major run-on sentence! *is out of breath* *pants*) My grandma actually crooned over it and said, "Aw, it's only a little baby!" Barf. My grandmothers are crazy about nature, and so am I, but I discovered something about myself that night. It is: I HATE SNAKES.
Stupid little squirmy crawly things. *growls* It was hiding in my CLOTHES!! In my UNDERWEAR!! Stupid pervy little snake. Ick.
So concludes this journal entry. I must quit procrastinating and get cracking on my homework. Dangnabbit.
Ugh, I can't believe I just typed that. Only rednecks say "dangnabbit", don't they? Must remember not to go by stereotypes.
More importantly, must remember never to say "dangnabbit" again, especially around my crush. I feel so uncool... *sighs yet again*