Read Bridget Jones until sundown. Then imagined Chucky peeking through the window. Scared. Jumped off bed. Bruised leg in the process. Went downstairs, had some spaghetti and coke and yet another rerun of American Idol. Went back up to my room for a little bit of Miniature Tigers/Freelance Whales. Might go reading Bridget Jones in a while or so
What else, what else.
Found out someone's dirty secret. Cried watching Live to Dance. Slept wearing Freshman shirt, woke up drenched with sweat. Was told a story about some guy who went with some girl at some party and reached second base. Had a classmate go in to scan her photobooth pictures. "Booked" a "date" with "Aunt Flo". Blasted off heads in New Vegas. Pitied Heathcliff. Hated Catherine. Played Words With Friends. Managed to put "ass", "shit", and "rape" in one playthrough. Ate food. Ate food. Ate more food.
So that's it.
*Stole the title from the amazing Tom from Bridget Jones. Also sums up my anxieties.
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