Just need more of his face on my blog.
For those of you who don’t know that guy is the textbook definition of a douchebag.
TEXBOOK. Right down to the popped collars on his too tight polo. Yeah. You may ask youself, why Lindsey, why!
Well? IDK. Boredom? Eitherway, that kid commited the crime of leading a girl on. Seiously, it was by the book and…. I called him out for it in decibles that could bust some ear drums… justsayin’
So here I am, walking from OChem to the bus and I hear that annoying whiny little voice. I look up, he looks up and we lock eyes and I have to fight the vindictive witch like cackle that springs into my throat as he sputters and mangles his sentence to his equally douche-y friend and nearly breaks his neck trying to look anywhere but at me.
That’s right bitch. You know me.
After we ‘stopped communicating’ I met some people who gifted me with a view of myself that I hadn’t seen until that point, they gave me some self confidence and yeah, maybe the casual, lighthearted arrogance to know that I may just be, possibly, could just be, a little more confident, a little more good looking, a little better of a person than he was. Since, after all, I could look him in the eye without flinching. Of course, the fact that I was lookin’ pretty cute on a rainy day helped matters as I continued my ‘strut’ (My mother’s words, not mine) to the bus, supressing my laughter but not my smirk as I could clearly hear him trying to restart his conversation without sounding totally and completly hakward.
Point to me, via a little help from my friends who helped me see the light at the tunnel at the end. *
The amount that my bedroom door is shut is directly proportional to how upset I am with my roommates.
Open= All good!
Half shut= mildly annoyed
to be a universal constant for the people in my life.
A POLAR BEAR
probs why there are so few of them left.
So here I am, trying to get ready for bed and putting on my wonderfully over sized pajamas when I realize with a start that I forgot to brush my tongue! So I quickly begin to remedy the situation, hating the gagging that always occurs when ANYONE throughly brushes their tounge when suddenly, I throw up a little.
Not a lot. Just a little.
Which is odd. Considering I had dinner at 6:30.
And while it should have been a little alarming, I actually laughed out loud because for some reason I reminded myself of a cat. You know, when they kind of stand in one spot and make that weird yacking noise, which always causes those concerned calls for “kitty? you ok?” (as if they’ll actually anwser back like, “Totally fine dude, thanks for askin’ though.) and then they move over to the most expensive item on the floor and puke on it.
I as a tad put out that I had to brush my teeth all over again though.
Just being plan ole’ awesome….