And now I have one thing to say to those of you who do smoke as more than just practice for a play: Why on earth do you do that? It's about the most disgusting thing I can think of. I came in from outside and I smelled aweful. Sarah's roommate kicked me out of her room. I brushed my teeth for five minutes and I'm still gagging. My hands still smell like smoke as well. I have to get up nice and early for teacher aiding tomorrow so I can take a shower so I don't wreak of cigarettes while I'm helping special ed students with their homework. And while Julie said her nerves were calmed a bit (she actually finished one of my ciagrettes, bad Julie!), I think it gave me a headache. Anyway, I just wanted to rant, cause now I have a basis for it, since I have actually done it.
One last little note, for those of you who care. Lisa has (almost) failed her first test at college. She scored a 65 on her most recent math test. Please offer your congratulations later. (I'm not really bragging, I'm not proud of this, if it sounds like I am. I would just like to show those annoyances—the ones who say that "I just did horrible on a test!" for me means "I just got a B-!"—that it is possible for me to do poorly. So there.) On a good note, though, the prof drops the lowest score. So I can "redeem" myself through the next test. Yea!
