"Pretending" being the operative word, surprisingly enough. Why is it that everything is so much more interesting if you have something mind-bogglingly boring to do? I am capable of doing it, I just don't want. I mean, I know that even at best it will be mediocre. But then again, it is enough. I only need a mediocre three to get four as the final grade. Oh, Salieri, the patron saint of mediocrities, please let me get a three out of this stupid essay!
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Tomorrow I'll be on my way to a sleepover at my aunt's (who did, by the way, apologise the next week when I told her in a polite manner why that one thing kept bugging me; see entry in 6th of November). She's now six months pregnant and I'm worried sick because of the forthcoming weekend. What if something happens? What if something goes wrong with the baby?? What if I have no idea what to do??? Let us hope nothing special happens. I have, however, no intentions none whatsoever to join the endless amount of people who see pregnant women as public cattle. I mean, complete strangers seem perfectly capable of ignoring that even pregnant women have physical immunity, and instead they go touching their bellies without asking their permition to do so. Even the mere idea of makes me shiver.
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The Meme of the Day:
At the end of Grey's Anatomy episode last night the viewers were presented with a question: if you knew you had but twenty-four hours to live, what would you do?
Me, myself and I answer: I would tell Her and everyone else who have positively influenced my life how much it has meant to me, and tell some other people to go fuck themselves if I feel that's what they deserve. Finally I wouldn't care about diets, but instead eat whatever I want as much as I want while watching my favorite X-Files episodes. To quote Mika: I want to be as social as a stone.
