I hate when people whistle at me. It pisses me off and I ignore it.
Literally, my first thought when something terrible, scary, uncomfortable, or strange happens is, "I'll be able to write about this."
Last week, I felt really weird at dinner. Audria was talking about how her dad would read aloud to her family in the kitchen. Her mom would be cooking dinner, she and her brother would be doing school work, and her dad would read Lord of the Rings to them. I felt sentimental and nostalgic and the only thing I wanted to do was have a family or hug somebody or talk to my mom. It was the strangest thing ever. I think it was homesickness, but a different kind than I've ever felt before.
Last Sunday marked seven weeks without soda and one week of trying not to eat straight-up bread. I accidentally forgot and ate a muffin one day, and I ate a chicken sandwich with the bottom bun still there, so it hasn't been a completely bread-free adventure. It's a work in progress.
I watched a chickflick last night and was giggly and mushy and liked the stupid cute stuff.
"Twist" by KoRn is one of the greatest things ever.
But I still hate Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift. Some things don't ever change.
In one week, I overcame my intense hatred for celery. I just ate it every day despite its nasty taste and now it's one of my favorite foods.
Lately, I've been getting really, really bored in the middle of movies. Like, the climax hits and it's all I can do not to turn it off or leave the room.
I've had "Starstrukk" stuck in my head all day and just figured out what it was. I am enormously relieved and ashamed to say I'm listening to it.
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