Dear Diary...

Day 1

February 12

This is stupid.

And no, I'm not going to even write the goddamn 'Dear Diary' thing.

So apparently Mr. Talbot thinks I have ‘trouble expressing my feelings through words and I need to work on my writing skills’.

Oh yeah, Mr.Talbot? Well, kiss my ass...

So then, he decided to give me this notebook. I mean, I don't even know what to write in this! Because in case you didn't notice, I'm not exactly Margo Roth Spiegelman- who writes cunning and exciting escape plans to some paper town in New York (let's face it, I'm not smart or brave enough to do stuff like that) nor do I write fantasies of my next door neighbor sacrificing his life for me because I'm oh-so loving ( which is very untrue) partially because my next door neighbour is an old chinese man who does tai chi in the morning on his driveway-in his pajamas- and believe me, it is NOT a pretty sight... and because I don't do shitty stuff like writing stories.

Okay, what the actual hell. I've actually come to a point where I'm going to write about my DAY. Like an eight year old girl who has a major obsession with fairies and ponies and rainbows and whatever eight year olds obsess over nowadays. I CANNOT believe I'm actually writing about my day- not at age 17 and a half... Oh God.

Screw you, Mr. Talbot.

Today was an okay day.

No, wait scratch that- today was a crap day.

Why you might ask? Well today we were given a shitload of homework courtesy of Mrs. Skinner who teaches the oh-so exciting subject of history(I still wonder when I’m actually going to use this in life) and an exam from the lovely(and by lovely I mean the exact opposite of lovely) Mr. James- who’s probably older than the terracotta warriors from the Qin dynasty(Ah, so that’s where history comes in handy- to insult your teachers).

And to top it all off, Bitchy- oops I meant Brittany decided it would be all fun and games to spread a rumour that I- Katherine Marie Chandler screwed the sluttiest guy in school. Bitch, in case you didn’t notice, I would prefer to be STD-free than have a million STDs that aren’t even known to mankind like you.

Argh, I just want to squeeze her brain out of her head. But then again, she doesn’t have one…

I guess that’s high school drama for you. Anyways, I’m pretty sure that stupid rumour will probably be as dead as the mummies in Egypt(God, I’m on a roll with these history references today)...