I woke up this morning and went downstairs, preparing to leave the house and embark on another exciting day of school. The Russians were there, eating breakfast. The dad, Sergio, looked at what I was wearing and said, "You gonna be cold?" and I smiled and said, "I'll be fine." I come back a few minutes later because I forgot my wallet and they are still there eating away. Before I leave for the second time, Sergio says, "Look in a mirror," and laughs. Grr. I'm sixteen years old. I think I can dress myself, thank you.

I just hate being told what to do. It's one of my biggest pet peeves. Seriously. Especially when I'm driving, and someone is like, "You're going ten over, you should slow down." It's my problem if I get a ticket, not yours. I said that to Allison this past weekend and she said, "Well, if'we're late, then it's my problem too," or something to that affect. (whoa, just as I was talking about her, she signed on. freaky) So, she had a point. I was still stubborn and didn't give in. So, moral of the story, if you ever want me to do something, just tell me not too.

8:52 p.m. December 10, 2002
yesterday . not so yesterday