2.

February March 1, 2008

Started off the day with Mother waking me up at 8 o'clock.

I told her, "Mother, it's Saturday."

And she asked, "So what? Get up."

And I said, "It's a sin to get up before ten on a Saturday."

She proceeded to tell me that it was punishment for not cleaning my bathroom yesterday. She also told me that I should do that, put a load of laundry in the wash, fold the clean clothes on my bed, vacuum my rooms, and unload the dishwasher. Right.

So, of course, I promptly went back to sleep at 8:05.

How is she such a morning person? Obviously, I didn't inherit that gene.

Being the most pious person I know, I actually got up around ten o'clock. I was hungry, and I wanted to get something in my system before heading off to dance, so I grabbed a Peanut Butter & Honey Uncrustables™ sandwich and popped it in the microwave. Then I rummaged around in the pantry and found some excruciatingly old and stale Ak-Mak™ crackers, not that they had much taste in the first place. YUM.

Afterwards, I plopped onto the couch with my finds, thus drawing the attention of Rocket the Wonderdog, my beloved Australian Shepherd, who didn't take his eyes off of my peanut butter sandwich the entire length of the Project Runway episode that I watched off the DVR.

Poop poop poop, school is only a day away.

On the up side, I am now the proud owner of a library card. (Mother had to write a check for 47.89 to the cover the outstanding fines created by her irresponsible public literature abuse.)

Dad is yelling from the other room where he is playing loud video games with Mother. On a school night, too. It just figures that they don't respect the peace and quiet I need for my beauty rest.

I think that I will straighten my hair before heading off to the hellhole they call school tomorrow. I also need to pluck my eyebrows. They're doing this sticky-uppy thing that makes me look like I have horns sprouting out of my forehead. It's unpleasant looking. I need a pedicure, as well. All this dance is wreaking havoc on my tootsies.

A/N: This story needs improving, I'll admit. It will do one of two things: get better as it progresses or get deleted out of frustration by me. We'll see how it goes.