Saturday...

What a day. I woke up about two hours ago, watched TV, ate lunch, did some chore, and now I'm here. Today is going to suck for one reason: babysitting. Yes, that. That horrible, horrible...whatever it is, it sucks. I'd rather do some job hunting or something. Or going out to play some frisbee. Man, oh man, I miss that frisbee. I can't find my frisbee. I swear, I came back from Mass. with like...5 frisbees...and I can't find any of them. I stowed them away in some secret hiding place...so secret, I can't find them. Dude.

In an effort to be creative:

Dirk likes to be called Mud. He enjoys watching Boogie Nights for the sole reason that Mark Wahlberg's character is named Dirk Diggler. And he thinks that's classy. Dirk lacks motivation...motivation to do anything constructive, this includes taking care of the whole hygeine thing. Because, you know, Dirk is too cool for toothpaste and shampoo. But, yes, on special occasions, Dirk will shower and clean up. What special occasions? Well, of course, there's Summer concerts...and maybe sometimes a wedding...Dirk doesn't care for the opinions of others. He is self-centered, careless, and lazy among other things. Why is he this way? Because I'm the author and I say so.

End of the effort to be creative.

This is how bored I am. Wooohooo. I want to go out and do something. But my parents are always like...no, you can't, we'll just drive you. How dumb. I drive. I can drive. And yet...they put no faith in me, whatsoever. And they think they're helping or some shit, but they're just making me pissed off, and so I lie to them. I cannot think of an instance I went that I didn't have to lie to them. Because I always have to say, "Yeah, mom, we're just going to chill at their house." But then we go out. And I always say, "No, mom, I don't drive them around. You said I couldn't." And sometimes when I feel like I can take them, I pick fights with them. "What the fuck? It's legal for me to drive people around, so what's the whole point if you won't let me?" And then I just walk off to the car and drive away. But they're parents. I guess, what I should be thinking is at least they care. But I think they care too much. Because they treat me like I'm twelve, and without any arms. And maybe legally blind. But hey! My glasses aren't that thick. Darnit. Okay I'm out. I still have stuff to do. Like two essays. ARgh.