Sunday

I'm sick of Sundays... death days, birthdays, mug days...

I was mugged again, just last Sunday, around midnight (so maybe Monday, who cares?). Walking down Queen alone, I got hit on the back of the head, my wallet was stolen and I was left sitting there in a pile of garbage bags, blinking, trying to figure out what the fuck happened. When I got up, I started feeling where on my arm the cigarette had fallen and left a burning, ash-y hole. My head was throbbing, and spinning, so I back down.
I eventually got to the subway, and the subway guy told me to go to the hospital 'cause the back of my head was bleeding.

What is wrong with people?? I don't even have any money, and I'm still target # 1.

On the plus side, missed three days of school (today included) and may miss more.

Vented,
J.V

Oh, Hallowe'en...

We got high two nights in a row...the 30th (happy birthday to me) and the 31st.
Lance changed his costume idea at the last minute--and went out as a French maid, and I threw on a Pink Floyd tee and called myself a stoner. The worst thing to happen all weekend: I ran out of smokes thirty minutes after all the stores closed, and went without them for about 3 hours. (cry)
As for my birthday (I got off track), my gramma and granpa came in and stayed with us until Tues. They seemed a little disappointed by my "state of being" but were anything but angry. At least someone laughed at my grandpa's stories (they all suck and none of them are true).
Later on that night, Lance took me out and we went to see a movie with a lot of gore. With the theatre nearly empty, we got to make out in public, and nothing is better than that. ;)
Wow, my writings so terrible.
I'm still high.
<3<3<3<3<3
Johnny