 |
|
stupid teenagers *grumblegrumble* scratched car *bitchgrumble* I just sit here and click the add an entry box repeatedly anymore. It took me a few clicks to realize, Oh! It's letting me add an entry now. ======================================= With my apartment, you get two parking lot spaces with your apartment number plainly painted on them, for the whole world to see. No one else is supposed to park in them. We have new neighbors, who are teenagers. They love to have friends over, and they seem just as happy to be there. They love to park in my spot, since the VW (aka Old Grey Mare or stupid rusting piece of junk, take your pick. Both work.) has been gone for so long. My Mom has a very souped up hot Mustang GT parked in her spot (for sale, any takers?). Today once again, there was someone parked in my spot, so close to the mustang that I don't know how they got out of their car. Parked over the line, when they had many feet to park over more to the right. their car scraped along the whole right side of said Mustang. They didn't tell us. Not terribly badly damaged, but still it's a scratch, dammit! It's the principle of the matter. After they left, I just diagonally parked the 'stang across both spots. Try to park there now, bitch. Muwahahaha. Still oh so pissed, though. But what're ya gonna do. ======================================= Doubts about making it in Art classes in college= very depressed me. I've always doubted my ability. There are so many other people who are so much better than I am. What if I don't finish the project on time? What if they suck? What if I get bad grades or no one likes my work? What if I get laughed out of class? Too...much...pressure! Gaaaahh! *Obsesses silently to self* Okay, I quit. I'm not going to worry about it. I'm not even close to college right now. But I just don't think I can do it. I'm just not good enough for college art. Oh great, now I'm going to sabotage myself. I've gotta stop. ======================================= Well, I have to be up by 7am tomorrow. British Isles Festival, be prepared. Or afraid. Possibly both. |