remember that utterly crap Mariah Carey movie?

Hmmm.
I'm reading Twilight at last.And yes, I like it.Yes, I am addicted.
I even have a headache from all of this reading.
Actually, saying that I'm reading Twilight is incorrect. I'm on the second book, New Moon. And hopefully, Julianna-willing, I will be onto Books 3 and 4 by tomorrow/Wednesday. And will see the movie next week.
You know, even if it's a little absurd and a bunch of people give Stephanie Meyer hell for having her heroic male be a vampire that glitters, I do like glitter a lot. I forgive her.

I think I'm beginning to develop a fear of dogs.I really don't like dogs.I like our birddog, Pretty, somewhat, but even she can snarl and growl and get vicious and I don't like that. (Speaking of which, she ate an ENTIRE cheesecake within 24 hours! Good LORD. Normal dogs don't eat that much cheesecake, do they? Or do all dogs just eat whatever's in their little dog-bowls?)Maybe I would like a calm, sweet dog that didn't smell and left me alone. Not a little annoying yappy dog, but a medium-sized good-tempered dog.I liked my old German Shepherd, Angel, but she was still a bit big and ferocious. She ate my cats.You know, cats are the only animals I really like. Well, cats and wolverines, but you can't have a wolverine in your house.I think I would like a cat.A big white fluffy one, perhaps. Any big fluffy one, really. Hmm. But then it'd shed. Crap.I don't know. I do like cats, though.I don't want to be a cat lady with an odorous house, but I wouldn't mind a neutral-smelling, pretty, nice cat.But back to why I think I'm afraid of dogs now...So, I like to go running outside (it's so much less boring than the treadmill!), but I don't go as much as I'd like to because I DREAD these stupid big white fluffy dogs that are enormous and positively vicious. They've bitten my mother before.The last time I went running, I had to run with this gigantic tree branch that I picked up. And I was glad that I did pick it up, because sure enough, as I'm bounding my way back home past Chicken Man's house, those stupid dogs come chasing me and barking. Eventually when I realized I couldn't outrun them, I stopped abruptly, whipped around, and brandished my tree branch, hollering in a brusque voice, "GET BACK!" I would've said something along the lines of "Get away from me, you stupid-freaking-hobags!" but dogs don't understand literary nuance. I hate dogs.Dani's stupid freaking dog got loose when I was trying to walk her on my birthday this year. I was positive that I was going to be responsible for killing my disabled (her foot was broken at the time) sister's pet, and that seriously bothered me. I felt like I had zero control over the whole situation. I tried to do everything in my power to get her back, but she was too fast and too stubborn. Thank GOD these random people chased her into some other random person's apartment and tackled her so that I could get her leash back on. Otherwise, she would be squished on the highway and my birthday would have been completely ruined.I HATE dogs.

Anyways, on my way downstairs to fetch my bottled water, I saw Pretty sleeping on the couch and had to tiptoe around her so she wouldn't rip my face apart with her teeth if I woke her, and it reminded me of vampires, so that was how I connected the two thoughts.

My whole not-getting-over-the-guy-who-broke-up-with-me-two-months-ago thing is getting old faster than a month-old carton of cottage cheese that no one really wanted. I think I'm seriously annoying the [I-don't-really-know-what] out of a bunch of people (particularly my roommate, who never hears the end of it) by constantly bringing him and it up. Stupid boy. It would be one thing if I just stopped dating, became jaded by love (and consequently stopped believing in it), and lived in silent turmoil over the whole situation. But no, I choose to rehash it every available chance I get. And I'm like four pages away from having completely filled that stupid journal I write to him. I wonder if writing in it is actually inhibiting me from getting over him. Who knows? But really... I don't want to get over him. So I'm not. And as long as I keep up this attitude, I won't. [I wonder if that's a problem. What would make that qualify as a problem?]

I'm going strawberry blonde as soon as possible. And then I think I want to go as super-blonde as possible. And then I'll go brunette.I like trying new hair.And college is totally the right time to do it.

God, the broads on The Real Housewives of Orange County (Okay, first off: WTF? Why would you mix The OC and Desperate Housewives??? Why? Why, why, why why?) are ugggggly. Yuck. I do NOT want to look like that when I turn forty. And you'd think that all that plastic surgery and going to the gym would make them prettier somehow. Huh.

My head keeps cursing a lot here lately. I don't know why. I don't get it, but whatev.
I don't think I'm ready to go back to school, but I don't know what I am ready for.More Twilight.... yes.