Debutante

Bridget Jones never fails to make me happy. — Or maybe it’s just Colin Firth? Haha.

I think I’m having another off week, so I’ve been keeping myself busy these days to at least not feel miserly and fat at home. I’ve been going to the mall and around town to see what’s up with everyone. My mom just filled my tank, so I get to go around. I only panic when my gas tank is 3 quarters empty anyways.

Oh, today I went to El Camino to take a Chemistry placement exam. On my way back to the parking lot, I noticed this huge scratch on my sideskirt (again). I sort of half-knelt down beside it and examined the damn scratch. All the while I’m thinking: “When the fuck did this thing happen?” No, I wasn’t crying yet, but I was pretty damn close to bawling until I saw these dried flowers on the back seat of the car.

“Wait a minute,” I thought to myself. “I don’t have dried flowers — HAH!”

It wasn’t my car!! Haha. Man. I felt more stupid than relieved. Tsk.

In times like these.. In times of single-hood.. I only rely on my car. It’s my boyfriend, you know. I love it. I love it. I mean, come on. It’s inanimate - yea - but it’s always there when I need it, it has never stood me up. My car is just as ideal as any other human specimen - it even has a stick.

Alright alright. That was a sexual innuendo. Haha. Hmm.. Maybe watching Bridget Jones didn’t really help me with my inner conflicts of singlehood and stuff. Gah. I’ll meet my Mark Darcy someday.. I just got to wait…

But fuck it. What is taking him so long?