my hands smell like cherries... rob called me last night. my GUMBY talked to him. not me. wow. rob twice in a week. nice. i miss california. paula abdul makes me want to make out and dance. mike's girly, ana and i = 'plastic surgery'. i think i have a lot of mentalphysicalblahblah problems and i need to see a few [a lot] doctors. this could just be specualtion. um. speculation is like- everything. i apparently gave colin the, 'big diss'. ahem. what was i supposed to do? he was going to give me the 'big bang' and i was afraid. there is a guy i made out with last night who i have wanted to kiss for a long time and my GUMBY fucked it up. i hate how i have already mentioned her 2 [now 3] times in this entry. [going back and naming her, GUMBY.] hans is back. omg. mass dryasshumpage. woah. watch it. his bro, carl and carl's best friend are here, as well... and ted. syracuse all over again. skipping school today? mmhmm. baaaad girl. whoops. shit. i need a job like woah. i am severely wanting to escape this country for an extended period with my cat, chet. i want to lose weight again. since i never really did... yeah. ok. band practice was 5 hours yesterday. our set now includes: drugs, a naked boy, screaming things like: 'give me a dollar, i think i am pregnant'. a rap song, crowd involvement, and hopefully a paula abdul cover. did i mention our outfits? is it ice skater? is it enron? this will never be told. you go, bloodfaced and electric. you go. *note to self: neverEVER EVER again listen to 'rush, rush' by paula abdul again while writing to robbie. too teary eyed.*