Will my mom and stepdad (especially my mom) please SHUT THE FUCK UP??? Oh my God, seriously, all she does is nag. She nags me, she nags my dad, she nags her mom, for God's sake! I mean, JESUS - she's just about nagged us all to death. Oh, but my stepdad's getting on my nerves, too. They're the main reason I want to just get the fuck to college already. I want to get the fuck away from THEM. Seriously, next time my mom makes one more annoying comment, I'm gonna fuckin tell her what's up.

I'll ATTEMPT to be nicer to her than she is to me.

EVEN MORE JITTERS!
Mood:  accident prone

Tomorrow, at 11 in the morning, I have a job interview at Sears. This is my first job interview, ever...need I describe exactly how worried I am? Well, not worried, exactly...I'm just nervous, really. I've got my outfit picked out: light pink poodle shirt with cuffed, wide-leg black pinstriped pants and PROBABLY my white 50's-style open-toed heels. I was kind of iffy about the shirt; I thought it might scream "Hi, I'm immature", but mom said it's fine.

WISH ME LUCK...

More Jitters!

I'm afraid I've got yet another case of...the jitters! For me, it seems to be a chronic ailment; it's as if I'm always nervous about something. This time, anyway, it's about my graduation party. Which is tomorrow, by the way. (Although, technically, it's already tomorrow, since it's 1:13 in the morning...I guess that means my party is at three this afternoon.) Nervous? About a party? My God, you're even more neurotic than I thought - I'm sure that's what you're thinking, or close to it. And yes, I'm afraid I am, in fact, very neurotic. But this is why I'm so nervous: what if my party is boring? I keep thinking of all these things that I probably did wrong, such as the guest list. Alright, I didn't actually make a list, but I'm still worried that I invited the wrong mix of people. What if no one wants to talk to each other? I mean, I remember going to someone else's graduation party last week, and I had a horrible time because I really didn't know anyone other than the host himself. Actually, that's not true; I knew other people, but no one I could have a decent conversation with. All I did was eat, make small talk, eat, eat some more, talk to the host, eat, eat again, talk to the host again, and eat yet again. And than I ate again. I spent 45 minutes doing just that (I had to call a friend to come pick me up because I was miserable!). Is that pathetic or what? I just don't want my guests to feel that way.

Oh, for God's sake...I'll be fine.

My Very Cool Grandparents are Here for a Visit from Detroit!
I'm not sure of how many people would say this with such enthusiasm, but...my grandparents are here!! I love when my grandparents come to visit. They're the best. Actually, all my grandparents (my dad's mom, my stepdad's mom, and my mom's parents) are great. But my mom's parents are going to stay here at my house for a few days, for my grad party.

Anyway, my good friend John is acting very strange...I'll get to the problem in a second, but first, here's a little info on John: I met him last summer, when I went to visit OU. As I once heard somebody say about somebody else on TV, he's "half sweet and half acid." In his case, that refers to his self-contradicting personality: he can be a total sweetheart one minute, and a total asshole the next. He can be such a doll, listening to my problems and complimenting me and all of that, and then the next thing I know, he's bragging about the girl(s) he's banging THIS WEEK. He also has a tendency to embellish things; the trouble is, I usually believe him (strangely, though, my mother and boyfriend don't believe half the things he tells me when I repeat it to them). For instance, he once told me he was dating a model. Not anyone important; just a random underwear model (no offense to any underwear models out there; hell, I wish I couldbe one). And of course, I believed him. However, there are two reasons I sort of doubt this: 1) He sent me pictures of her over the Internet, which could mean he may have simply taken them out of a magazine (this seems to be the most popular theory among my friends who live here in Springfield), and 2) How the hell did he meet an underwear model anyway?? She's supposed to be in her twenties or whatever, he's just some high-school kid, for God's sake...and that's another thing; we've known each other for a year, but he will not tell me his age! He likes to jerk me around about it. Like, once he told me he was 14, just to trick me. Asshole. Oops, I think this just turned into an entire entry about him. Oh well, let us continue.

Despite knowing him for a year, I don't think I really know him. However, I think I just might have him figured out: he's a really sweet kid with something of a Caesar complex. Behind all that arrogant assholism, he's just great big teddy bear - and let me tell you, if it weren't for that hidden teddy bear, I don't know if I could be friends with him. But regardless of which of his personalities he displays to me on a given day, he's hilarious on the phone. He could probably say the word "toilet bowl" and have me cracking up for an hour. Behold, the power of laughter: I've found it glues a friendship together.

Behold, the power of grandparents; if you'll notice, I've stopped complaining about last entry's (huge) little problem. :)

The Graduation Aftermath...and My Parents Suck
I just got back from graduation; luckily, none of my graduation day fears came to life. I graduated with my name being pronounced correctly, with plenty of applause, and most importantly, without falling down! It was strange...when people graduate, you always hear things like, "Oh, I was so sad because I realized I'd never see these people again," or something of that nature. But strangely, I felt nothing of the kind. I actually felt fine. I mean, when I first got to the auditorium, I was nervous. By the time we sat down, I was just excited. And hell, by the time my name was about to be called, I just wanted to get it over with. And I did; and now I'm a high school graduate :). I didn't think I'd be excited about it, but I am. Yeah, now I can have any job that involves a paper hat.
But this was NOT the greatest night of my life, thanks to my parents. I'll put it this way: Shouldn't an 18-year-old person who's just graduated from high school and has never missed curfew in her life be able to stay out later than one o'clock in the morning? Yes, you read it right: my unreasonable and God-awful parents would not let me stay out past one o'clock in the morning when I told them I was going out tonight. I'm sorry, but if I write any more about this tonight, I'll just piss myself off even more than my parents already have.
Oh, but trust me; this curfew business will be fixed.

Pre-Graduation Jitters
As of tomorrow, I'll be done with high school. No more lockers that have to be kicked - hard - before they'll open, and slammed shut (harder) to close; no more detention (not that I ever had one, I'm such a goody-fuckin-two-shoes, you know); no more SOY BURGERS. Yay.
And I am scared to death. Not because I don't want to leave high school; believe me, I do. And not because I'm afraid of "the real world" (if that's what you call life after high school). No, the reason I'm scared shitless is simple: what if, as I walk across the stage toward my diploma, I trip and fall flat on my ass?
For that matter, what if the announcer guy mispronounces my name? Or nobody claps for me? Or worse yet, all three? What if all three of these terrible and horribly embarressing things happen to me tomorrow, for all the room - and my family - and my boyfriend, who's been out of high school for two years - to see? Okay, happy thoughts, happy thoughts...
Well, paranoia aside, at least I'll look cute tomorrow (when I take off the cap and gown, I mean). Underneath the hideous, blaring red cap and gown, I'm going to wear this very pretty, very classy, muted (not pale or electric or navy) blue strapless dress that my brother picked up for me last year, with white 50-inspired peep-toe heels. I feel better now.
Everything will be fine tomorrow - I hope to God.