Put it in the pantry with your cupcakes...

Sunday night I stayed up late writing my history paper and dropped into bed without brushing my teeth without brushing my hair without washing my face without flossing without changing and slept in a Ramones shirt and underwear.

When I woke up I went back to the essay. Somehow I couldn't concentrate for more than five minutes straight. This guy came walking on my fire escape while I was writing and I ran away to put on some pants. I think he was a census worker or something. He had a clipboard and was looking at the rivets on the fire escape very closely. I couldn't focus much after that. I turned it in ten minutes late (Bram forgave) and spent a while with Oona and Amanda in the park and then went shopping for a birthday present for my sister, who's pissed that I'm going to prom on her birthday.

All I need now is a purse. I don't even want a purse. I want a pocket. But the stupid social whatchamacallit protocol says I should probably get one. Stupid protocol. I want to sew a pocket.

So I went to a thrift shop near the river and got in an hour-long conversation with the volunteer about African mysticism and the history of religions and it was incredibly interesting and he gave me a necklace for free. He knew what my necklaces meant, even though they're all from different places, and he knew what the real colors of Mexico are and what the ring Harry gave me meant, too. He had one in a glass box.

I'm definately going back.

I did manage to get some stuff for my sister, and I ran into Elena and she and I picked an Urban Outfitters t-shirt for Renata and Elena came up and gave it to her. Renata loved it. Them. There were two shirts. It was lovely and I wished school were over so I could hang out with her more and bug her about how far she's gotten in the books I lent her.

And this morning my mom in her infinate awesomeness helped me with my spanish a lot and I took a pen and drew all over myself. I wrote an adjective to describe each body part on every part of my body except my face. I covered my feet and legs and fingers and stomach in intricate designs and quotes and faces until she left and I took a shower and washed them all away. It felt especially nice because I hadn't taken one the day before, and I almost never miss a shower.

Yeah this was a boring post.
Whatever. Here are some pictures.

Where I'm blogging from. Not immensely interesting, but whatever. I'm cool anyway.



Frankie, this one's for you. His name is Tweedy.



I dunno, I thought this was funny. It's from Mexico.