Dreadful!

Legally, I’m an adult now. As such, I find myself a little unbelievable at times. Today, for example, I had a biology lab. The tables you sit at for this lab have power outlets on them for microscopes and stuff. As I sat there, I had to talk myself out of sticking my pen into the light socket just to see what would happen. I should be mature enough not to even think to myself that I want to stick something in the light socket.

Because I’m lazy, I had to make fourteen copies of a six page story for my creative fiction class today. Even though I put my own staples into the stapler on the desk next to the copier, I felt like people were watching me and judging me for using so many staples.

Last night I dreamed that I was the Joker and I shot Batman through the chest with a grappling gun. Like all the way through. He pulled it out with this wonderful wet ‘shchloorp’ sound and came after me.

I’m tired of my lower back hurting.

I’m also tired of my sister’s stupid cat eating ribbon. He threw up for fifteen feet the other day, and I had to clean it up. I don’t know how an animal that only weighs eight pounds can vomit so far, but he did it.

I can’t be the only person who hates it when people cough and wretch and make phlegm sounds around her.

My grandmother used to say dreadful a lot, and I think we should bring that word back. Like Randle in Clerks II, only mine’s less offensive and no one will care.