Bleh. Why do I have to give out the link to my site to people who know me in real life? Now I can't complain about them. Crap. Stupid. Ah, but I can always ban them. But no. That won't work. Then they'll complain "why can't I get to your site? Wah wah wah". Ooh. Code names. But no. If they read this they'll know its them I'm talking about. And I know I should tell people stuff. But if I don't like people I don't want to tell them that. As some people already know. Maybe I'll just have to hide the link to my blog. But then why is it even here? I want people to hear me complain. But not the people I'm complaining about. Ha.
Okay. But anyway. I finished my History project. All good. 44/45. I think. Or 11. I tell people I think I got 40 something or 11. Because I don't want to say that I got 44. But I did think for a second it was 11.
French presentation tomorrow. The crowd goes wild. Yay. Pretty much finished that. I'm just editing my lines a bit.
English debate possibly tomorrow. Still need a conclusion and statistics. I just haven't felt like doing it because I was up 'til 12 last night working on it.
Science Biology culminating task tomorrow. I got 24/28 on the Physics task, I'm not sure on Chemistry or Weather, I think I passed, but maybe not really good. I really need to study for the exam.
So everything's been wrapping up pretty nicely.
I'm thinking I might drop out of the play thing. I've come to the conclusion its a waste of my time if I just have 5 lines. They can easily replace me. But I'm going to the meeting on Thursday. They said they had someone in mind for Criswell, who doesn't have someone playing him yet. I'm hoping its me. But probably not. And if I don't get a better part I'll drop out. I don't know. Maybe I sound stuck up. But I think I'm good. I think I should've gotten a better part. But you know, those people on American Idol think they're good. Their friends and family say they sound great. So I dunno. If I was gonna drop out of it, I don't know how I'd do it really. Just stop showing up I guess. But Kristen'll want me to go. And she has a problem with one of the teachers, so her mom might not want her to do it if I'm not there. But I have to do it for me, not for her. And then if Mark or Natalie or someone asks me in class why I'm not showing up I dunno what I'll say. The truth. Yeah. I don't have time. I dunno. But not like they'd care anyway. Ah. I just want to complain, I think.
I still haven't watched Yellow Submarine that I got for Christmas.
I need to watch Charles and get some pictures for my site.
I need to update my Monkees site.
And all my other ones.
But I really need to work on my English.
But I don't wanna.
I wanna complain.
And talk about all the little things about people bug me.
But I can't.
Because those people might read this.
Stupid.
Okay. If you're one of the people and you're reading this, you don't know if you're the people I'm talking about, so let me help your mind rest.
Yes. It's you. It everybody. Everybody bugs me. Even though you think I love you. I don't. You bug me.
Yeah, and her too.
Yep, her too.
Never woulda thought it, huh?
Okay, okay, I'll admit. People do have their good points.
But I like to complain.
Who puts in their blog "Today Alison noticed I got my bangs cut. She's so observant and pleasant."?
Okay. Some people probably do.
But I would prefer saying something like umm…
Well, Alison hasn't annoyed me lately.
So I can't say anything about her.
Congratulations.
Haha. Wilburys.
Okay. Crap. None of that.
When ever I think of the Traveling Wilburys, I think of chocolate.
Isn't a wilbury a chocolate?
Okay. I'm pressing the save button now and working on that English thing.
That's the problem with a computer in your room.
No one can tell you to get back on task.
Crap.
I can't do it.
Nooooo.
Ah man.
I want to complain more.
But I gotta go to bed.
I can stay up.
But I don't want to.
I want to go to the doctor's again and have him sing in French to my parents about how I need to go to a mental institute.
I'm weird, I know.
But that was freaky.
I left the room and came back and the doctor's singing
"Da da da da da da da, da da da da da,
Da da da da da da da, da da da da da,
Dans le institute."
Weird.
ENGLISH.
STOP.
NO.
AAAAHHHH.
CRY CRY CRY.
CRY BABY CRY
MAKE YOUR MOTHER SIIIIGH
SHE'S OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER
SO CRY BABY CRY
CAN YOU TAKE ME BACK…