My mommy said not to put beans in my ears . . . but what about sand?

You know it's been a long day when I write more than one post. Where'd I leave off last time? Going to Angela's to get her out of bed, despite her paralyzing hangover. No, she got up voluntarily. But we didn't go to chow; we ordered Chinese and watched "Pulp Fiction" in the dayroom, using her Playstation because the DVD player is stuck in Progressive Scan Mode and we don't know what that means. Then I went by Jessica's to get some polish remover, and then I abused Dane's room horribly by using it to remove toenail polish. (Tsk . . . to do this in a boy's room has got to be a terrible sin. I ordinarily wouldn't even want it done in MY room. Sorry, Dane . . . I hope the smell's gone . . . ) Then, out of boredom, I went back downstairs and exchanged the polish remover for some polish. So now I have sparkly red toenails instead of smoky blue-gray. They match my pants. Except for the sparkle. My pants don't sparkle.

Ooh, but my pants did break this morning. The button came off the inside closure part. I didn't put it back on yet because it's not really a crucial part of the whole holding-the-pants-on arrangement. Also because it came off while I was going to Angela's and it just wasn't important enough to delay Angela's company by that much. What with Sarah's abandonment and Dane's absence, Angela's really the only friend I have left on a consistent basis. And hanging out with Angela and Jessica this weekend was more fun than Sarah's been for quite awhile now. And a different kind of fun than hanging out with Dane, because Dane's a guy. I don't want to centralize too much now, though; I made that mistake when I first got here. I'm just not really outgoing enough to make a whole bunch of new friends, though. I stick with the people that I already know. Generally. And I like a lot of people in this building, but they don't really know me well enough to invite me to hang out with them all the time, and I'm not generally an insert-myself-in kind of person. I feel like I'm interrupting every time I go to see Angela and Jessica's already there. Like they got together and had a reason for not inviting me. Oh well, though; I figure if they really want me to leave, they can tell me to. I don't mind telling people to leave if I don't want them around . . . depending on the person, sometimes, but usually I'm fairly indiscriminate.

This one time, Tiffany came into my old room to talk to my then-roommate, because she's sort of training my old roommate to take over her job for her. And she's talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and mostly just saying the same three or four things over and over and over again. And it was starting to get late, and I had homework to do, and Sarah was over in my half of the room trying to do her homework, and my roommate had been trying to do her homework . . . and I was on the verge of saying, "For the love of God, Tiffany---SHUT UP!" But right as I was about to, she said, for maybe the eighth time, "Well, I think that's about it . . . " and I switched to, "Yes! Please! Let that be it. Get out of my room. Just go." She looked shocked and offended and started to say something else, and I said, "Come on. It's late. I have homework. You keep saying the same things. Good night . . . " and pushed her out the door. She threatened to go kill herself, to which I responded with something like, "Awww," and then she left, I shut the door, and my roommate said, "Thank you so much! Oh my God. Thank you thank you thank you." You're welcome; happy to do it. Don't like Tiffany very much and do like kicking people out of my room.

I used to have to kick Ann out of my room all the time. She had an inaccurate idea of how much time I wanted to spend with her, and she'd come in all the time from smoking herself silly and flop on my bed. I don't like my bed to smell like cigarette smoke. If I did, I'd smoke. In bed. So one time, I excused myself, sauntered down the hall to Sarah's room, borrowed her Febreze, came back, and Febreze'd my bed. And since Ann was still on it, I Febreze'd her smelly ass, too. (And the rest of her. Mostly the rest of her.) And she got pissed off (it was like squirting a cat with a water gun---so very funny!) and leapt off hissing and clawing and yelping, and she's very small. So I basically just swatted her down to the floor, which is what I usually do when Ann attacks me (it's less frequent now, but still happens), and then kept the Febreze around for awhile so I could spritz the whole room after she left. Which she did very late.

I don't remember for sure if she left very late that particular night, actually, in reality, but I figure it's probably a good guess. It was her wont to stay until like midnight every night. My roommate, Ashley, the best one I've ever had, used to complain about Ann's too-long, too-loud visits, and I would point out that I for sure never encouraged them and was, in fact, more opposed to them than Ashley was, but there was nothing I could do about it because Ann doesn't listen and I would've had to physically pick her up and set her outside the door and close it, and it would've played right into her hands to do so. Instead, Ashley just started inviting people over who are louder and more assertive than we are, and who had past conflicts with Ann, and they would make her leave. (Sort of the "Let's get bigger bugs!" concept . . . and then you have the bigger bugs to deal with . . . and they snore . . . really loudly . . . )

Well, I have a test tomorrow. So I should be studying, but I don't really know how. I already had a debate with Jessica today about the virtues of studying . . . I don't even know how one goes about it, and we have the same test this week. So I'm not going to study, and take my test tomorrow, and she's theoretically studying right now, and taking the test Wednesday, and we'll see who does better on it. I'm going to guess me, since she already got rolled back once, but . . . you never know.

And for all Sarah has said that she wants to spend time with me and I'm more important to her than Caleb, I haven't seen her since . . . Friday at lunch, I think. And I called her earlier today to ask if we were going to finish the movie we started last week, and she said, "No. No, we're not," and sounded angry. Hey, be-atch. It was your idea to watch the movie, and we didn't finish it because you had to go, and the plan was to finish it today. Don't you dare get angry with me for calling to ask you that, whether you're with Caleb today or not. Actually, my guess is that the anger has more to do with me texting her at bad hours last night . . . Hey, I was up . . . I asked if she was coming back to her room tonight . . . no answer . . . said That's evidently a no . . . no answer . . . said I don't know why I ever believed anything you ever said . . . and I'm guessing that's the one that did it, especially since it was at like 0430, although I can't imagine it woke her up. And she doesn't really have a right to be angry about it, because she really has broken every promise she ever made and disproved every statement she ever . . . stated. Whatever. She was the closest friend I'd ever had . . . I trusted her more than I've ever trusted any person. And now, I think, more than I ever will.

I've never really been one to have super-close friends . . . Sarah was sort of a fluke that way . . . and it didn't work out so well, so . . . forget about ever doing that again, I think. I like chillin with Angela and Jessica, but . . . I also like chillin with Ruth, and Jamie, and Tasia, and Dane, and Mary, and Vicki, and John, and Doug, and Kelli, and Lina, and everyone else. And if I had all of their phone numbers, my phone bills would be crazy higher, because I think that text messages are the most perfect form of communication ever invented. And I will constantly text people that I don't even want to talk to. For some reason, thought, other people don't see it that way. Jessica does not respond to my text messages (although she does to Angela's). Angela does, every time, and Dane does. Sarah does not. Tasia usually does. Isaac used to . . . but I don't really text him very much anymore.

And Jessica, if you ever get around to reading this, this is a blog. It's a pretty damn'd random assortment of whatever thoughts get vomited out of my brain while I'm typing. Other people's may have themes or whatever, most personal ones are just rants against humanity . . . this is mine.