So all my best laid plans were for naught. I meant to give Douchebag his note back on Wednesday, but my class got our early and I wanted to get home, so I kept the note in my pocket and decided to give it to him when I got back from Houston. Alas, and to make a long story short, I washed the jeans with the note in the pocket and it is now but a soggy, shredded memory.
So now it's on to plan B which is to ignore completely. I can do. And if he brings it up again, I'm going to point at his crotch, snicker, and say "I don't think so, jefe."
Problem solved. Except that I might get my tongue cut out in the parking lot.
Thanksgiving went off with only one major psychotic episode involving the use of my grandfather's car, which is probably a record. One good thing about having a million sisters is that one, tiny lesbian girlfriend goes virtually unnoticed. She's a quiet little thing and just for that I like her. Probably better than most of my sisters.
Anyway, there is more, but it isn't very interesting and I have major shit due tomorrow, so I will say adieu for now.
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