3:03 a.m. - 08.08.2002
Julia's 18th Birthday
Julia turned eighteen yesterday.
We went so many places; it was insane. First stop, the bank -- to get money, of course. Then, to the grocery store where I applied for a job, and we got some soda and Teddy Grahams. We were kind of hungry since we both hadn't eaten breakfast, and decided to stop at McDonalds.
Running errands isn't really complete without a visit to the porn shop. And of course Julia inquired if they were accepting applications. Unfortunately, they were not hiring. Wouldn't that be fun though? A job at the porn shop. It wasn't a porn-porn shop. Just video and DVD's. But still. It'd be quite interesting.
After seeing many an overpriced porn movie, it was a la Target for ... actually we didn't go in with a set list in mind. But that's what I absolutely love about Target. I could have no list in mind, nothing that I really need at the moment. But anytime I go in there, I find something I have to have. Something I really need, but just forgot that I need it.
Julia's mom got home from work, and the three of us got went shopping at Dots. Then, we got some pizza, a cake for the b-day girl, and headed back.
I always feel really weird around Julia and her mom. Especially in their house. I feel like an outsider. Like I don't belong. I don't know what to do, where to stand, where to walk. I feel lost and confused whenever the both of them are there.
Don't ask why I get persnickety over shit that's not even of normal standard persnickety caliber. Maybe it's the social anxiety thing.
Julia came by today and visited with my duck, Fiona.
I'm so damn sick of that duck. That duck... Shits. Like. There's no tomorrow. It's just so much shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Granted, it's not big shit. But her cage ain't that big, so a lot of shit ... in a little cage ... with a duck. The good thing, I guess, is that it doesn't smell. I mean, if you put your face up to it -- yeah, you can smell it. But just hanging out in my room is fine.
I want to get rid of her. Really badly. But Julia suggested an alternative way of laying out her cage so that her shit is a little less unbearable to clean up. So, I'll try that tomorrow.
You'll know if that doesn't work. I can see it now as a future entry for this diary:
"Duck for sale! Highest bidder!!!"
If that, I got sick of the duck ... or I just really need some cash.
