My room is so cold that it could easily be used as a meat locker. Actually, I vaguely recall spooning up to a shank of beef this morning before my father came and got it so that he could cook it for lunch.
As soon as it snows in here I plan on building an igloo. Maybe I'll turn on the sink later and flood the floor so I've got a nice skating rink.
I'd been losing weight for inexplicable reasons this summer, but I think I've figured it out now. My body spends so much time trying to warm itself up that I'm burning calories like crazy.
So as I turn on the tiny space heater I have purchased as a safety precaution (so that I don't lose any body parts to frostbite), I will think warm thoughts, and pray that a warm front moves into my room (which will probably, unfortunately, result in some sort of thunderstorm... but I'm willing to risk that).
My whore dog has given me fleas.
Now, as I have been informed by several of my friends, my dog more than likely got fleas from being outdoors during flea season (which starts around April or may and goes until October), as opposed to getting them from trolling the neighborhood for tricks (like I may have suggested).
But now I sit here in my room scratching at my ankles because apparently the fleas that have made there way into my room have decided that I am a suitable meal.
I do not see why I should have to get fleas just because my dog has them. I gave him a flea bath. I put those stupid drops between his shoulder blades, just like I was supposed to. And how does he repay me? By passing the fleas around to every other animal in our house faster than you can say, 'the clap'.
Well, I hope you are happy dog. I hope this makes you feel good. Do you feel like a big dog now that you've caused our house to be infested with fleas? Huh? Do you?
Now, I'm not saying I'm angry with you, dog. I'm just disappointed.
Ironically, I became an English major...
I think I might have been a little developmentally challenged as a child. I can make out what about half of this journal entry (from when I was in the second grade), but after the 'We Too are dog' (which I assume is supposed to say, 'We took our dog') I am at a loss.
I have decided to build a dog house for my dog. If all goes well, it will look like this:
Hopefully the real thing will be more sturdy looking, less squiggly looking...
I hope that it will have a more defined bottom, a thicker roof, and a better opening.
And if all goes well it will also look more like a dog house, and less of a shanty.
This is my left arm, which I scanned (using my scanner/printer) and have labeled so that the bruise on my arm is very easily identified. I think the whole thing is a work of art, its beauty makes me want to cry. It speaks to me in ways that nothing ever has, whispering, "Life is confusing (read: the reason why I get such a big bruise after I have blood taken is confusing), and not easily classified or categorized (hence my problem with the whole 'inner armpit or inner elbow' confusion). But it is full of colour, and people (eg. me) who have too much time on their hands."