Smoked Fruit

Ugh, I hate dance. Donna was all pissed at me because of last week, and with Mao not being able to dance, she wouldn't stop picking on me. Almost every time something went wrong it was my fault. I'd bitch more, but I'm doing my English homework.

Spent block one chucking pennies at jars, block two siting around doing nothing, block three at Starbicks, then standing in fronyt of Yuan's locker, block four playing with a piece of wax, block five, trying to pay attention in French, but failing miserably because of the heat, stupid portables, and after school slept on a couch at the mall with Mikhael.

That's all.