chalice26's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Slowly reeling 'em in... I definately shouldn't write any entries about guys anymore. I ran into two of the guys I had questions about in the last entry today, and in the case of Justin, I would have prefered to have not done so. I didn't even look at him. Actually I was scared to look, because I haven't seen him since all the drama happened between us, and I wasn't sure what my face would look like when I made eye-contact with him. The second guy I saw was J.P. My very, very favorite guy ever. And of course, that was a good thing. I swear I don't think I'm wishing or hoping or jumping to conclusions when I say that I really think that he actually likes me. I'm truly astounded by this discovery considering how long I've had an unrequited crush on him--or so I thought. I knew he was shy and quiet, but I had never even really hoped that he might have a crush on me, but I think I was wrong. And, oh boy, I hope so much that I was wrong then and not now. But I've been making this joke about him to all my friends saying, "All I want for Christmas is J.P. And since that's all I'm asking for I should get it. So pray for me." I think it may have worked. I still have a month and five days. Yay! He is: Cute Tall Sweet Funny Quiet Not trendy A drinker of imported beer Tall Cute Yay! Every time I see a guy I think is moderately attractive, he always ends up on the arm of some Barbie. If I had a Barbie named after me she'd be called either Gothic Barbie or Liv Tyler Barbie, and as far as I can tell, all the guys I'm attracted to prefer regular Barbie. Blah. The thing I hate about Barbies the most is that their haircolor is fake, their tans are fake, their cleavage is fake, etc. I mean, I could be one! How sad is that? They're not even a real "type." Julie and I call them "Orange Women." It's pretty ridiculous when a supposed standard of beauty is completely fabricated in random labs across the country. And what makes a barbie want to be a barbie? When do they wake up and say, "Okay, everything I was born with has got to go--top to bottom. A total transformation is in order?" It must be some kind of gene, because I realize that I obviously do not possess it. I have no desire to be a fake. There are things that I have been doing to improve myself lately, and for these I actually am proud, in spite of how shallow they may be. These are: I quit: biting my nails (twelve days) drinking (seven days) eating carbs (thirteen days) I started: working out (four days) getting organized (six days) paying bills (two months) maintaining a positive balance in my checking account (four weeks) Okay, so maybe these aren't the biggest accomplishments, but it all makes my life easier, and right now that is my goal. I know that the holidays are going to suck, so I am trying to stay busy and get healthy, so that, by the end of the year, I will have accomplished more than the average person who will have just gained ten pounds. Why is it that Barbies never gain ten pounds? Whatever. Now I just sound bitter. Blah. 12:54 a.m. - 2002-11-20 The ex-virgin - 2009-07-05 Wilson's Syndrome - 2009-03-12 Diet Notes - 2009-03-10 Naughty Tree - 2009-02-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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