hump it

am i allowed to eat in here? fuck it.

the weather is shitty, my umbrella broke, the store would not take it back even though it is like a week old, my preschool is flooded, my armpits are sweaty and for some reason this is all intensely comical. my entire day yesterday was also quite comical but i will not hash all of that out, instead i just wrote it in an email to elizabeth and laughed pretty hard as i was writing it.

i am worried about zach. he is either dead or he really hates me. i dont even really mind if he hates me, i just do not want him to be dead. zach, if you are reading this, stop fucking around and write me a one word email at minimum so i know that you did not get caught up in some local drug deal and got shot on the street. would your parents call me if something serious did happen to you? i dont know.

my last and final most important message to the public:
happy birthday to amy, and fuck school.