My dad, the evil punk master that he is, made me wax my truck yesterday. OK, technically, he offered to help me and technically, he did help. Oh yeah, and technically, he's not an evil punk master because I don't know what one is but I wanted to use the phrase. BUT ANYWAYS, now my arms hurt. That's hard work! But betweening moving my grandma into her new apartment; mowing, fertilizing, and planting stuff at our house; and waxing my truck, I'm sorta getting buff over here. But I'm not sure it's worth it since I'm sore as a really sore person all the time. Notebook countdown: 2 days I cannot wait that long. Yesterday, after the waxing and the hurting and then dinner, my dad was finally nice and took me to Barnes and Noble, which technically is actually just another type of torture. I walked through for an hour and a half, looking at books, writing down ones that I hope I can find for free at the library (as soon as I take back my over due ones) but I didn't so much as crack a single cover. I held back from reading anything because I knew I would want to buy it if I started "casually reading" it. There's no "casual reading" if you are me. I have decided that the only remedy is to read every book on Earth. My mom: "I think you'll die trying." Well, we see about that, won't we? So I made some of the cookies and they taste funny. The dough tasted funny too. But my mom says she thinks they're alright. (What does she know, she's on a diet of as many fruits and veggies as possible!) So I think this is God laughing at me and trying to put me on a diet. Because not only do I not want to eat the end product (the cookie) but I also do not want to eat the dough. VERY FUNNY, I say, VERY FUNNY. Maybe I'll just make some brownies then. SO THERE, IN YOUR FACE. Is there nothing better than watching Footloose and then dancing crazily at the end? I think not. Kevin Bacon is definitely the glitter fairy. Note to self: I need to put chem goggles in Cindy's car to protect myself from future eye pokings. you know you love me ;)