I'm going out with Bridget sometime this weekend. When she inquired about my work schedule during lunch, I knew I had her. I don't know what the fuck we're doing, but I don't really care.

And yes, I do consider this a date whether she thinks it's merely platonic or not.

However, Karl, there will be no sex, nor will there be any hormonal adolescent making-out.

And, psycho girl that she's turning out to be, she had another dream about me. (Karl was apparently there as well, but whatever) And this time, we were in my bedroom talking on my bed. Then she said something about my sister and dogs and I didn't really get the rest of it, but it was more the fact that she dreamed she was in my bedroom that was important.

Now I'm starting to feel good about the whole thing and my confidence never brings about anything pleasant so at some point I'm sure this whole thing is going to blow up in my face. Until then, I will revel in pre-explosion contentment.

Megan and I went shopping for sheets today and it was nice.

No one is going to take Mr. Mayer seriously as a teacher if he continues to be so obviously attracted to his students (like in the case of a certain haiku princess I know).

Why did I use princess for that label? I hate the word 'princess' . . . and the word 'crush' and the word 'date.'

Goddamnit. I have to sit through another family dinner now.

Don't let yourself get violent, Anna.

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