this girl is playing her cards allllll right.
the fastest way to my heart is to do exactly what she's doing.
keep saying sweet things about him. keep appreciating him. keep making him laugh.
because i swear to god, that kid is special. anyone who knows him knows it.
and if you ever turn out to be one of those girls, watch your back. i'm not even kidding. you will pay.
ok, so i'm kidding.
last night i saw james king at the tossers. it was surreal. he is the one who first played them for me, and the last i heard he had joined their band.
he seemed really out of it, and was about twice the size he was last time i saw him. he gave me a sloppy hug and we screamed over some ugly hardcore garbage to "catch up".
i wanted to ask him for his number, but i knew i'd never call it. i wanted to tell him sarah says hi, because i know she does, but there wasn't time. he was being ushered backstage to drink with the band.
regardless, it was good to see him. i am fairly certain that it was the last time i ever will again.
last night, jeremy and his two new buddies saw philip walking on the riverwalk. they fell into an accidental conversation with him, wherein jeremy was forced to make awkward smalltalk.
what really bugged me was that jeremy told him i was doing "alright". this is how i would have rather it gone:
phil: so how is laura?
jeremy: she wishes you were dead.
i don't want him knowing ANYTHING about me.
jeremy said he looked horrible. he had a nasty mohawk and filthy clothes and a safetypin through one ear. he told jeremy to tell everyone, "i saw phil, and he was strung out on crack." apparently, that was EXACTLY how he looked.
allow me to reiterate how useless and disgusting and worthless this human is. jeremy said he looked really lonely and sad and depressed. which sounds right on target, because that's exactly who phil is.
he has a black heart. not because he's evil, but because no one has ever loved him unconditionally before. he is pityable garbage.
it's kind of like when you lose your keys.. and you look EVERYWHERE and cannot find them.
and then you say aloud, "fine, i don't even care if i find those stupid keys.." but deep down you're completely desperate for them to turn up.
and after a while of huffing and puffing, you fling yourself on the couch.. totally defeated, and turn on the tv. and as you shift your weight on the couch fifteen minutes later, you hear a jinglejangle underneath you.
it wasn't until you totally forgot about the keys that they reemerged.
that is how this feels.
i am trying to perfect the art of not caring. i will someday market my formula.