Oh god! Awards ceremony. It’s torture and I don’t care. Sitting in pants three years too small, my crotch being subjugated to a totally unnatural position, I wish I never told my mom about the notice.
DAMMIT MY CROTCH IS IN PAIN. PAIN. OUCH IT BURNS. Just giveme a stupid piece of paper with my name on it THROUGH THE MAIL. What genius decided to do this? I don’t look good in church clothes, and I always look good. I don’t feel good either. And an ant bit me on the side of my face.
Then, when I get home, I have to deal with Amber! Ugh! This whole week sucks. So far. It will be worse, I’m sure.
I want to cry.