That Pink Polka-Dotted One
It was Shane's debut yesterday. Got home by 2 am, probably the latest I stayed out so far. And I, also, am 18. Which really entitles me to stay out more and longer, but I get sleepy in even the most energetic party by promptly 8 pm. So it's simply impractical.
I dragged my ass home as if I was drunk, which I wish I were so my slurr and my disjointed swagger as I left the place were justified. But I don't drink. I can't stand alcohol. Spent most of the night talking to Manoy. I can never run out of anything to say to her---be it philosophical or absurd or about non-existent love-lives. She's the only person I can talk to without even a hint of presumption, after all this time. Paul is supposed to come close, be he listens to me with something that makes me feel as if he is simply waiting for me to say something wrong so that he can establish a bit of his superiority. Yes, he's condescending. Peace, man. =)
There's another like Manoy who I also love arguing with. It's Geronimo. That's why I'm in love with him. A probable reason why he's in love with me too. It's been a year. Isn't that cool? I don't want to be his girlfriend. I don't want him to be my boyfriend. There's something about the terminology that makes it sound shallow and disjointed. We're not just friends, for one. Jessica Zafra suggested Fiance, Husband To Be, Meaning of My Life, The Loved One, blah. I think I'd sit for Fiance, or maybe, The Loved One. I'm not looking for short flings to be flung like used underwear in as short a time as you use one, anyway. Now that's terminology that makes sense: Flings are to be flung.
Moving on: I sang with Jennifer last night. It was promptly a disaster. Botched timing. Inattentive audience. It was painful. Now this is to be a very long story about who is to blame, but I don't want to hurt feelings. Suffice it to say that I couldn't look straight at her for a longish time. I dislike falling and being aided into it.
The debut as a whole was fun. I miss my batch a lot. We would probably be in another debut by July 5. Then August 12 and 11. I promise to go around more and not monopolize Manoy's time. I promise to sing another session and salvage my bruised pride...and not sing with the same person again. I should've realized that when the same thing happened when we were in 1st year. Ow.
---
So why the title? My outfit was, argh, cute.
I dragged my ass home as if I was drunk, which I wish I were so my slurr and my disjointed swagger as I left the place were justified. But I don't drink. I can't stand alcohol. Spent most of the night talking to Manoy. I can never run out of anything to say to her---be it philosophical or absurd or about non-existent love-lives. She's the only person I can talk to without even a hint of presumption, after all this time. Paul is supposed to come close, be he listens to me with something that makes me feel as if he is simply waiting for me to say something wrong so that he can establish a bit of his superiority. Yes, he's condescending. Peace, man. =)
There's another like Manoy who I also love arguing with. It's Geronimo. That's why I'm in love with him. A probable reason why he's in love with me too. It's been a year. Isn't that cool? I don't want to be his girlfriend. I don't want him to be my boyfriend. There's something about the terminology that makes it sound shallow and disjointed. We're not just friends, for one. Jessica Zafra suggested Fiance, Husband To Be, Meaning of My Life, The Loved One, blah. I think I'd sit for Fiance, or maybe, The Loved One. I'm not looking for short flings to be flung like used underwear in as short a time as you use one, anyway. Now that's terminology that makes sense: Flings are to be flung.
Moving on: I sang with Jennifer last night. It was promptly a disaster. Botched timing. Inattentive audience. It was painful. Now this is to be a very long story about who is to blame, but I don't want to hurt feelings. Suffice it to say that I couldn't look straight at her for a longish time. I dislike falling and being aided into it.
The debut as a whole was fun. I miss my batch a lot. We would probably be in another debut by July 5. Then August 12 and 11. I promise to go around more and not monopolize Manoy's time. I promise to sing another session and salvage my bruised pride...and not sing with the same person again. I should've realized that when the same thing happened when we were in 1st year. Ow.
---
So why the title? My outfit was, argh, cute.
posted by Ferretti shoes at
6:29 PM
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