8:47 p.m. - 2008-03-23
Trashy
Sundays are lazy, lazy days... days I do absolutely nothing, except wait to go to bed, and update my diary it would seem. This is, what? The 50th entry today? It's actually kinda depressing, like those Sundays before school. Angela Chase, from My So-Called Life, said it best: "There's something about Sunday nights that make you want to kill yourself."

You know what sucks? I have severely chapped lips. I constantly coat them with Vaseline Lip Therapy, as it's the only thing that soothes them. I'm afraid to use Blistex because I've used that in the past and it always burns my lips. I think I am allergic to most products.

There's a dark cloud of gloom settled over my head. Something's not right. I'm low on energy, and everyone is pissing me off. I had a most disturbing dream last night about living in Germany, being involved in a porn-exchange service. Porn was outlawed in Germany, but babies were scarce in England, so the Germans secretly were mailing their babies to the U.K. while the U.K. smuggled porn to Germany. When I woke up, I felt bloated and strangely turned on from all the porn. Meh.

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