I'm bored out of my shitass brains, I've got no mood to read about intellectual property laws (even though they are relatively interesting), my tummy feels funny because it's bubbling away and I feel irritated.
Long day ahead. Super nervous man, it's the first time that I'll be meeting boyfriend's parents officially. Okokok, I should relax, it won't be that bad right? I mean I don't have to touch frogs, I don't have to recite my multiplication tables, I don't have to do house chores ; nothing scary. Right?
Haha! I don't know why I'm worrying about this, it's gonna be fine. Who knows, maybe I might go fishing with his dad, bake pies with the maid (I've got an uncanny feeling that she doesn't like me already. STRIKE ONE.), go shopping with his mom and paint nails with his sister!
Wait, hold up.
What if they hate me? What if they despise me? What if they make snide remarks about me? What if they CAN'T STAND ME AT ALL but are all smiley and grinny grin grin when they see me??? Oh, shit. I'm going to faint. Where's that mother-fucking single hood when I need it?
Ah, fuck this shit. God bless all of you if I don't get out alive.
Momma, you can take my nail polishes. Poppa, you can take back your tuxedo shirt I've taken, it's on the rack. Ben, you can have the Canon camera that I've been hogging FOREVER. Don, you can have my prized-possessed CDs (The Spice Girls' CD is in my room's grey cupboard).
REST OF MY STUFF, SELL ON EBAY, THE MONEY WILL GO TO MY FUNERAL. MUST BE FUCKING GRAND.
Fuck, I'm damn scared. Die die die.
