I Don't Wanna Be a Fool in This Game for Two

My title is from a Backstreet Boys song. I think I'm losing it.

I might be bipolar. I have two extreme moods. One: I'm really, really happy, and do the oddest things, like give Corinne lettuce, not understand jokes, and tell people they killed JFK. And sing musicals at lunch. And put chicken patties down Cori's underwear. And spell out naughty words in sign language during tests. And... I'll stop.

Then my other mood has me swearing, angry, crying until two o'clock in the morning. Hating everything: life, guys, the world.

My cat is the plague of my life. Yet again, I'm kneeling on the floor because she decided to stretch out on the chair I was sitting on. And she has claws and teeth, whereas I don't. Who would win a battle, d'you think? I know.

Nick Pa. and I had a really productive conversation on the bus. He officially hates Nick Pr., because evidently he stole his name. Um, hello? My Nick is sixteen. You're... what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Whatev.

I am really hungry. I've barely eaten anything all week, and absolutely nothing fatty or bad for me. I would love a cookie right now (they look so good), but I already had syrup with my waffles this morning, and that's too much sugar already. Oh, damn cookies. It hurts to look at them. I'll probably end up having one. Or two. Or three.

I yelled at Danny today and told him that he killed JFK because he wouldn't let me play with his skateboard, and what he yelled back got me really confused until Cori explained it. He said, "That's lamer than FDR's legs." I am an idiot. No, really, I am. And the oven beeped. Meaning it's reached 300 degrees.

The math assessment, speaking of degrees, was incredibly easy. In explaining an answer, I wrote 'axises' and I don't think that's a word, but this is a math test, not English, and it shouldn't count.

I spent all day today trying to make Cori's arm go numb. Slapping it. Hitting it. But with love. I would never hurt her. I hit her because I love her, right, babe?

Math today was spent in the FLART Lab. Foreign Language and Art Lab. The computer room. Whatever you want to call it. We played with Geometer's Sketchpad and animated stuff. It was so funny! This quadrilateral I set to having one point dance about looked incredibly like an inchworm. Hmmm. Could be a conspiracy.

Madeliene's cat still hasn't found a home. She and her daughters, Emma and Sarah, are moving back to Ireland in a month or two or three or whaev, and they have to find a home for their 15-year-old cat. She'll probably end up living with us, but she's been by herself all her life, so Murphy would probably freak her out. And Trouble would probably eat her. And Goober would sit there, twitching his little nose and hopping about his cage. Until we let him out, and then Madeliene's cat would eat him.

It's a cat eat cat eat rabbit world out there.

Sophia sent me a song a few weeks back, "Sic Transit Gloria... Glory Fades" by Brand New, and it's so frickin frackin good, I could just listen to it over and over. If I didn't have a major headache right now that is. Other times, I do just listen to it over and over. Go figure.