Bitchfest 2006 Number Two (Now with less dance)

I do not like it when my mom tells me to stay home. I suppose it was justified, I mean, I didn't want to be stuck in a boat for two hours and have to throw up, and I prrobably would have still felt like shit, but still.

Whenever I stay home I feel fine by twelve, or in today's case, ten. I feel bad becuse I am missing a day of sailing. This is also true for school, and other fun activities. I also know that I cannot leave my house because I might get sick again, according to my parents.

What's even funnier is that when my mother woke me up this morning and asked me if I was alright, it was because I had been playing Insomniac the night before, not because less than an hour earlier I had been puking my guts out in the bathroom. I was perfectly awake.


I'm done here, except for one thing: Those fucking TriCity people told me that I would be in Saturday's paper, but was I? Those bastards took out their pictures of RPSA to make way for important articles such as Goose Poop In The Park and blueberry picking. I am very upset. Nobody cares about goose shit. I grew up with fucking goose shit. I am so used to it that I can run around barefoot in it. It's nothing new! Those bastards made everyone go sailing in the rain with no wind, just so some guy could take pictures of us. Bastards, I never liked them anyways. It was always The Now who would post pictures of me in their paper when they were sent off to both. The TriCity is too high and mighty to publish pictures of little, seemingly unimportant dancers, or sailors.

I need to call my aunt.