HAS PAPAPHOBIA GOT YOU DOWN?

That would be fear of the Pope/Papacy, as I have just found out in the midst of my early-morning research...Some of my top picks at this point are:
Dying or death- Thanatophobia.
Englishness- Anglophobia.
Children- Pedophobia.
Criticized severely, or beaten by rod or instrument of punishment- Rhabdophobia.
Flogging or punishment- Mastigophobia.
Ideas- Ideophobia.
Leprosy- Leprophobia or Lepraphobia.
There are more to come, I assure you...

I'M DOING WHAT I WANT TO, EVEN IF I'M NOT TO.

Like a ch-ch-chi--chicken.
Hooray for Comprehensive Theatre. Or not.
I spent Valentine's Day at home and watching TV, which is quite some movement from last year's "I-Think-I'm-On-A-Date-But-I'm-Not-Sure-And-Wait-We're-Going-To-SCC..."
Very romantic, I assure you.
I'm thinking that perhaps I'm called to live alone, cryptically cynical, and nonetheless intelligent...But alone, so that I can let my grueling imagination fester; so that this paralysis I call "the inept" can simply leave me alone. It would be much less time consuming and wholly beneficial to my mental state of being, so much deteriorated already.
I like the bitterness. I’m not willing to compromise it by becoming “mushy.”

GET OUT OF MY SPACE BEFORE I SHOOT YOU...

I'm not sure what it is about that site that possesses myself and millions others to spend long, empty hours staring at our own profiles, and the nonsensical profiles of others...
But if Eddie is doing it, there can't be that much harm involved.
I long for Orlando again, as I sit, reclined in my grandmother's computer chair (Aptly named "cushionless" by the people who truly count: Me.), inept at thought and the process of expelling said thought.
I need to go "journal."
If I remember what a pen feels like.

WHO NEEDS THE QUICK-E-MART? NOT ME!

I'm just making up things at this point.
I decided to ditch the Identifications and try to finsh them up over the weekend...And that really doesn't bother me right now...What I need to get cracking on is my AP Language stuff...
Look at what P-Dawg posted:
Kell"e"y - How does Seven of Nine fit into the scheme of things? I was a huge "Voyager" fan. Mr. Plyler
[Editor's Note: And after seeing that, I am both mortified and smitten...And slightly scared.]
Chaz and I are set to work the Football Awards tonight at 5:30, which should be only minor work, and I plan to spend the entire evening just hanging out with him and working on Drama III "directorial notes," as Custodio would like to say...

SO, THAT WAS FUN.

Auditions during Drama III...Amusing. Perplexing.
What other adjectives have I to utilize?
Oh, that's right. BORING.
I enjoyed making an absolute fool out of myself [Editor's Note: And after losing Grandma to HARMONY, I don't know how much more of a fool I can become...], finding myself cast in at least one interesting role (The mother from The Effects Of Gamma Rays On Man On The Moon Marigolds), and I definitely had fun ignoring directors' instructions and just being there.
Here's what I've deliberately decided upon:
It's not worth my anger.
It's not worth my frustration.
It's not worth re-living over and over again to figure out what she did right and I did wrong.
Totally not worth it.
I am so, so looking forward to Valentine's Day.
Yeah.

LA, LA, LA-AAA, LA. I AM POPULAR.

Or not. I'm actually hooked on some of the songs in Wicked. Which is thoroughly distracting considering I'm trying to function as a normal human being without breaking into song every few seconds...
Ehh.

RHETORICALLY CHALLENGED AM I.

That's how I feel tonight- allusionless and hardly willing to fight the deviating fronds of syntax...
Not that I really have to. After all, it is Saturday; 'tis Slackerday for all.
Tweed. Everytime I start to write something interesting, it's too late to do so.
'Tis night.

YOU'RE REALLY GROWING ON ME...

It's good that it's Friday...Saturday. Whatever.
For lack of good manners, I would have "up and pulled an Ashley" if the week had detained me viciously any longer. Now, I have time to think, sleep, and expand upon *crazy* notions of normalcy. Heh. Even joking about it makes me giggly.
Giggle.

NOTICE ANYTHING ODD?

Hmm...What's Gene's last name on the business card?
I thought so.

MY NEW CATCH PHRASE: WARDROBE MISFUNCTION.

I don't know...There's something about seeing this that really calls me to value the productive effort of a tiny little network called MTV.

OH, MY IRREPARABLY DAMAGED MENTAL FRAME!

I'm a bit woozy.
Which is a fun word.
Not my point.
Anyway, I'm trying to get past this whole "Super Bowl Sunday Thing" without much damage and/or brutality, but depending on the circumstances, I'm game for a little bloodshed.
It's been a long weekend.
Last night was amusing and girly, as it was Nickie's birthday party. I hung out with Rob the Terrible, some nerdy guy at the concession stand who I wished I could continue flirting with, and Eeek-King himself, Mike.
SAK is where it's at.
I really need to drop off of this internet connection, lest someone should die and need to call me to give word of said death...
Woozy.