Woke up at 12. Three hours late for class.
Go to the gym instead of class.
Had lunch at Think. Alone.
Hit on at said lunch. A very beguiling extended conversation ensues.
Wondering why attractive people never hit on me.
Cash a $50 Valentine's Day check from momma, which I soon realize will just barely cover my electric bill.
Now sad remembering that I had planned on letting that $50 drunk me up this weekend.
Happy hour with my ex.
Happy hour with my ex and now Josh, the Blanche to my Dorothy.
Chinese takeout and Star Wars with my two roommates. I already had dinner but convince myself that it's okay as long as I order brown rice instead of fried.
Realize that brown rice, while healthy, is the equivalent of watching "Evening". Fry that shit.
Not watching Star Wars, fighting with my mom on iChat instead. I say some horrible/dramatic/untrue things and mull over blocking her.
Remember that my meal came with a fortune cookie. Shitty fortune, shitty cookie.
Begin to pay attention to the movie, except this time it seems boring. This contextual observation leads to a mini-existential crisis.
One roommate falls asleep, the other decides to hit the sack shortly after the scene in the garbage compressor.
Alone, in bed, listening to a Mariah Carey shuffle, blogging and wondering where I put this poster which once hung on my pubescent bedroom wall when I was ''straight" so long ago. How effectively it appeased both identities.