I sit here at the computer that's placed in the corner of my living room, watching over my two younger cousins, mindlessly pressing series of buttons, causing their friendly cartoon characters to beat each other senseless. I have a headache, and a low tolerance for the whining that rings back and forth between the two boys. I don't know where their sister is, nor do I remotely care. I know she's not in danger, that's all that matters. If she was, she'd be hollering up a storm. Girl has quite a pair of lungs on her.
Ugh. I'm sort of regretting all that dancing last night. I knew, of course, that I'd be paying for it in the morning. Yet, I chose not to heed my own warning, and spent the night on the floor anyway. My back is just a rock of tensed muscles, aching with every move. Damn you, vile chest. How your great caliber brings me constant pain in varying degrees. I abhor the screeching in my ears that comes paired with the words, "I wish I had your boobs." Oh, no. No, you don't. They're nothing but trouble, and they're clearly not worth any of it. I won't even get into the details. Be happy with your B's and C's, ladies, because G's just aren't fun.
What else to say. I've nothing interesting to convey at the moment. Oh well.
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