I'm in a good mood douchebag!

I bought a pretty new ring- it's black and shiny.

I'm going to see a show, and I have a stand-up gig after that.

I've made some cool new friends.

My room is (mostly) clean.

I get pretty decent gas mileage.

I haven't had to use a map lately, and I never bought a Thomas Guide.

I can pay my bills. My credit is decent.

I figured out where to find things I need.

I am starting to feel less and less like I'm on vacation, and more like I actually live here.

I have friends at home who love me. I have a nice family who I love.

I know who I can call when I need them. And who I can't.

I found out I can still do a CARTWHEEL! And I didn't break my arm (or flash my boobs).

I am looking pretty hot these days (50 pounds!) 25-30 more to go.

I am gonna do some shows when I go home for Christmas. yay!

I have a LOT of things to be happy about. So that's what I need to focus n right now, instead of that silly boy who doesn't care about me at all.

The best night followed by the worst news.

Have you ever had the BEST night and want to share it with someone?

And the person you call first is the person you feel understands you, and you look forward to hearing that person's voice...

It's not big news, but it's the kind of thing that someone who cares about you will be happy to hear. And happy for you.

But when you do hear that person's voice, before you get the chance to share the news, they drop a bomb. A "Bad news bomb" that says they care about you a lot, AND FUCK YOU (in French).

A pile of shit, wrapped in a BIG HUGE PURPLE BOW, with tiny pink roses stuck in all over. It's like a shit bouquet. Pretty! But it stinks.

"Enjoy!! It will linger...because it's shit. And I wish I could help you untie the ribbon, but I have to go."

The ribbon helps, but only to the extend that it makes my night/life seem oddly more hysterical.