THE DOCTOR IS IN.

The Doctor of Pepper, that is.
We stopped at Red Lobster for a mini-meal tonight, and the waiter was on speed to a nauseating degree...Running through the restaurant at seventy-eight miles per hour, he was a traffic accident waiting to happen.
It was dinner and a show.
Not my point.
I feel utterly agitated that I couldn't attend Graduation yesterday. I feel as though some of my friends were counting on me to be there for extra padding and support, yet they were unaware of the circumstances, that of which held me from sitting in that O-Rena and cheering them on.
I feel like crap.
Crap, however, appears to have drug-like qualities which induce mere mortals (such as myself) to agree to what would otherwise be considered "unagreeable situations."
Um, maybe this is neither the time nor the place to divulge.
As I've yet to agree to anything.
But the possibility still lies in the open, ready for a good pouncing.
Ha ha! "Pouncing."
Kind of sounds like "boun--"...
Oh.
Never mind.