Make a move already.
in other news, I hate the croo whore.
I hate her because she's prettier and more charismatic than me, and as a result everyonee loves her.
turns out I'm like certified crazy.
so crazy I get to spend the next 2+ weeks in a psychiatric hospital.
whoohoo for me.
this is my last day of summer. it is much easier to deal with, seeing as how I have used my beloved child supprt money on a little online shopping spree. the most gorgeous sprat of this spree is my pair of Flirty beige mid-calf white suede boots trimmed with faux-fur. because I am so charge-high, I will post pictures of everything I just bought.
my mother is going to kill me.




I also happened to buy a couple other items in stores, but I can't find pictures of them. needless to say, I have become, as the classic chick-lit novel is titled, a Shopaholic.
the other night I dreamed the first dream I've remembered in a long time. maybe that means it's somehow significant. maybe it's trying to tell me that no matter how much I say I dont believe in serious relationships, I'm not over Richard or Omar. which is probably a bad thing since Richard is in a long-term relationship and Omar wont talk to me for reasons beyond my knowledge. and the solution is obvious. I just need a string of non-serious relationships that are totally about the sex to get over everything I feel bad about. that's what I need.
I also need microsoft office and a pair of boots. I wonder if a non-committal relationship is easier to come upon than nice boots.
now I'm going to promote her movie for her. go see Factory Girl. laugh. cry. giggle awkwardly at the sex scenes. live.

