So I was walking down the stairs when suddenly I felt a tug in my gravity, downward. It was at school, right at the busiest time of the day, when people were on the stairwell, attempting to, basically, make the escape.

My heels do not have the same idea, nor does gravity. The heels said, Hey, man, this is the end of the line. I'm sorry about all the times you got blisters when breaking me in, and I'm sorry I have to end it like this, but...you know. Circle of life.

I felt a wobblyness in my stomach, and then my heel caught the stair I was stepping down, and I started to fall, face first, down a flight of stairs. I probably would have broken my neck if Meagan hadn't grabbed my backpack and I hadn't grabbed the railing.

We just FROZE. Time did, too, actually--that's the funniest thing about falling.
Then again, I didn't exactly fall. I started to, but was saved, miraculously.

I think the funniest part (I was laughing hysterically at my near-death experience--I always do) was that this guy at the bottom of the stairs had just stepped up, and, when I tripped, he just froze, and looked at me like I'd thrown up The Strokes and they'd started playing right in front of him.

And this all made me wonder what's up with some people. I mean, he didn't even move out of my possible flying path, like most smart people would.

Just stood there.

*shrugs*

Furthermore, I finally got my agenda back from that jerk who took it. I guess all those self-defense strategies (which have been pounded into my brain) came in handy, today, because he squeezed my leg--AND IT HURT!--and I grabbed both his hands, crossed them, and pulled them in different directions and yelled, "YOU DO NOT TOUCH GIRLS WITHOUT CONSENT!" He turned bright red and seems to respect my space a lot more, since I did it in public in front of some worried looking teachers. They'll be watching him a lot more closely, I'm sure, so I won't have to deal with the five-year-old behavior.

I don't see why I should have to in the first place.

Argh.

I need to do my math project. All this inferring is killing my brain.

Peace.

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Okay, so when I said that I would be suffering at the dance thing, and that I wanted to look as terrible as humanly possible so my date may just run screaming from my very presence?

Yeah, that was all metaphor. The suffering represents my internal suffering of...

Okay, I was totally angry, and now I'm kind of not. Oh, how sour these words are. But I must shovel them into my BIG MOUTH, which started all this in the first place.

There was dancing, good food, and interesting people. I think I got along better with the guys than the girls. No girl gave me the once-over, though, FOR ONCE. I was so thankful. They were all really nice and came up to introduce themselves like civilized human beings. I think even my best friend gives me once-overs more than they probably do. Then, I don't really know them, either. They might be total whacko once-over girls--giving once-overs to even the least deservant of such a cruel punishment--for all I know.

But I didn't get that vibe.

I think it's like my school's band department. A lot of the kids stick together. Birds of a feather--GOOD GRIEF! They do flock together!

Well this is just crazy.

But, I guess I should have gotten prettied upier, because I felt kind of sloppy by the end of the night. (I actually even cut my nylon and my leg with my shoe; don't ask how, it is ridiculously embarassing. I just looked down, at one point, and went, "OH, haha! I'm bleeding!") It's shocking how perfect some people can look even after hours of dancing.

I apparently missed some lesson, back in pre-school. Ma said I didn't have to take pre-school, that I could have a little more Endless Summer, but I should have just gone. That's probably the difference between girls like me and perfect girls who never look messy. Pre-school.

Gosh darnit.

Then again, I couldn't care less, so it shouldn't matter what I missed.

Speaking of missing...

I still have yet to do any of my homework.

...H...eh.

Oh well.

Better start, then.

Night.

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