I LOVE when I am typing out a post, and I accidentally go to another blog. DAMMIT!

Mrs. Blenheim also told me to get a push up bra.

What do you get if you put two blub blub blubbing Debs in the same room? No really, I want to know. It might be funny.

I don't feel like writing about the rehersal, except to say that MY TRAIN IS SO FREAKING LONG AND I TRIPPED OVER MY DRESS THREE TIMES AND NEARLY DIED. However, the dress is a very pretty color.

I came home, I felt like crap from having not had anything to eat for a while, ate my dinner, still felt like crap, took a motrin, took a nap. I laid down around 6:45. Couldn't stop thinking about the play. Thinking thinking thinking. Play play play. About about about. Various songs, lines, etc. running through my head. Image of me, saying "marked you how grandly..." and falling FLAT on my face. That was when I took the motrin. Back to bed, sleeeeeeeep. Till 9:30 when my mom came and woke me up. Or was it 9? She was supposed to wake me up at 8:30. I couldn't, for the life of me, get out of bed until about 10:05, at which time I took a shower. It's fun when you shower and the water gets freeeeezing cold and you've only shaven one leg. TMI? Too bad, I've heard worse today. AHEM, Nar Nar...

When I was in the shower, trying not to freak myself out about the play, I remembered something funny. It's called SENIOR PROJECTS. Our proposals are due this Friday, and I have contacted a total of ZERO people about it.

This week, it will not be a fun one, I guarandamntee it. AND there are still other things that need to be done. Exhibit A: study for physio. By study, I mean read the chapter. Exhibit B: coreograph my dance for dance class. Have I started? ::Laughs haughtily; falls over:: That's not all. Not even close. "And how should I presume..."

Um...this is really long. Technically it could go in my blog, but no one seems to troll it, and...wait. Why am I making an excuse? Who cares. Some people post many times a day. Like, whatever.

I still stand in the same place with the not thinking thing. It's bad for me, thinking.