I was just spending some quality time with Erica (who is pissed because she can't go to her friend's house this weekend but doesn't know that I told mom and dad that she shouldn't be allowed to go). We were sitting around watch the Sunday Night Sex Show because Erica likes to see Sue pull out the vibrators and I like to see Sue freak out about all things anal. But while we were watching the show, Erica kept asking me for all of my friends' first and last names because in the junior high world there is apparently a test that will determine whether any two given people are destined to love, hate or marry and produces the results in terms of percentages, and it's all based off of the letters in the people's first and last names. (Yeah, I didn't really understand what the fuck was going on either. I was just trying to watch the old lady talk about sex.) But this is what I learned from Erica and her obviously sophisticated test:

Bridget and I are destined to hate each other 94%.

Cedar and I are destined to marry one another 96%.

Cedar and Megan are destined to marry one another 98%.

Kim and I will hate each other 87%

Cedar and Bridget will love each other 90%.

Don't ask me about the percentage thing because I don't know, nor do I really give a fuck. I just thought the results were interesting considering our group dynamic. I suppose that only the guerilla IT group would really be able to appreciate it as I did.

Megan and I had a nice little conversation about Bridget while we watched her psycho-stalker like buying her prom tickets. (Yes, I was disappointed.) Quite frankly, I'm a little bored with Bridget now. There's nothing exciting about her anymore. That doesn't mean that she's not cute and I'm going to start hating her 96%. It just means that the obsession is dead and that if she came to me tomorrow saying that she was "ready" I'd respond with a "Ummmm, I don't think so." It's a lot more fun to hopelessly obsess over a person than it is to actually know them. But whatever. She'll leave in the fall and meet the predicted pixie girl of her dreams (although Bridget doesn't know she's the girl of her dreams yet) and everything in Bridget's life will become clear to her and I will stay here and settle for some painfully typical borderline undesirable dyke and reaffirm the fact that my life sucks. It'll be good. Things will be okay in the end.

I told my mom that if I pass the proficiency test for Spanish, that I was going to take German and she wasn't too happy about it. The thing that gets her is that my only motive is that I just want to do it. I just want to learn German for the hell of it. And instead of being proud of the fact that she has an intelligent daughter who wants to be worldly and educated, she tells me I'm being stupid. She wants me to blitz college-- get in and get the fuck out. That way, I can get a nice, stable job and be well on the road to misery ASAP. She hasn't caught onto the fact that I wholly intend to piss around for the rest of my life doing things, more or less, because I want to. I think my mom is really disappointed with the way our family is. There is little that is manly and romantic about her husband. Her oldest daughter is a lesbian who wants to spend the rest of her life reading. Her other daughter spends hours a day with her ass parked in a recliner watching Sponge Bob Squarepants. Neither of the forementioned children is at all interested in keeping within the confines of her gender role. Her son is a wuss. She can't take care of both of the babies by herself. Her only hope is my eleven year old sister, Lauren, who is well on her way to become the girl that all the sensible women hate. It must be hard . . .

I'm really fucking tired.

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