The glove compartment really isn't accurately named.

I always feel like a prize ass. It's become part of my M.O. J and I rode bikes today, and I was a complete dunce. This summer has been a let down. Work and school and fucking work and school. It's all getting a little old, and the fact that the 'dale's dullness never seems to let me down hasn't helped. Of course, I do have my girls A, A, and K. They help. But you know. I miss J. And I'm tired of driving home every weekend to see him.

Is it strange that I can't wait for fall?

Weirder question: Is it strange that I hate when my friends have fun without me? J had a party at his house tonight, and I had to leave around midnight because I have class at 8:40, and then another class, and then work until 4:00. So... basically... I'm a lame ass. Which I guess I knew before this summer.

Anyway. My friends are having a great summer while my days wilt in the sun. Or rather in the flourescent glare of college-office lights.

On my way home, I listened to Death Cab, and for whatever reason that didn't make me less depressed. It was all, "the glove compartment isn't accurately named..." and I was all, "you know, it really isn't."

Not the kinds of thoughts one wants to have while listening to the most introspective music ever composed. I'm so pathetic.

And now I sit with my Leo watching The Fugitive, if merely to watch Harrison Ford be paranoid, which is, you know, mildly entertaining.

I need to sleep. I cried this weekend in a dressing room because I think I'm getting fat. So ridiculous and girly of me, but whatever, I'm a girl. My sister is getting married and I'm the Maid of Honor, and luckily she has good taste, so the dresses aren't completely hideous, and it actually kind of looks nice on me. But, you know, when you have to order a dress two sizes larger than the other clothes you wear, it just makes you wanna cry. So I did. Right there in the middle of the Alfred Angelo dressing room, half naked, with all the other half naked bridesmaids staring at me in horror, because, well, what can they say?

I'm depressed. I need a Valium. And a good spooning session. Where is J when I need him?

Oh yes, throwing a party.