Tomorrow, there are these two parties my family is supposed to go to, but I'm trying to avoid one of them. I'm fine with the party at my neighbor's house, since I know a bunch of the neighborhood kids and we have fun being silly together. But I don't want to go to my dad's former boss's son's graduation party, even though he came to mine. I wouldn't know most of the people there anyway, except a few family friends. I'd end up sitting in the corner with a handful of hors d'oevres the whole time, trying to avoid the people I don't know or barely know who sporadically approach me and ask the redundant, irritating-after-the-57th-time question, "So, how's college?" I should start answering, "It's delicious, especially with the Merlot" and then walk away. But then my parents would get on my case about being "pleasant and friendly." Or maybe I should get a t-shirt that says "College is fine" so I can point to it when people ask, and I won't have to answer the same question 2785017893 times. Jeesh, can't people ask about something different for a change? And quit calling me "big college girl," for crying out loud. For one thing, I'm not big. I'm not even medium. I'm smaller than small. Also, I don't appreciate being labeled by my age group/education level. If you must talk to me, ask me about something different. Ask about my new kitten or Hedwig or any stories I'm working on, and if you want to know how college is, ask my mom. She's the one who likes talking about it. Oooooookay, I've strayed far from my original topic. So tomorrow I'll go to the neighbor's party but not the graduation one. And if any of my neighbors try to start a conversation by asking about college, I'll holler madly, clutch my head, fall over, and play dead. Then my parents will yell at me and I'll go sulk for a while.
My throat hurts from playing "zombie" with my neighbors earlier. My throat can only grumble "braaaaains!" so much. And they were dumping grass on me again! Oh well. When we were getting ready to have dinner tonight, my dad accidentally closed the door on Moccasin's tail or foot or something, and he let out this loud scream that shocked everyone in the kitchen and made my mom shriek. He wasn't hurt very badly, just bruised and scared, but the rest of us were pretty shaken up. Belle is kind of getting used to him, but she still regards him as a pain-in-the-arse. I don't really blame her - he gets into everything, attacks inanimate objects, and constantly mews if left alone, but he's still my baby. My little Moxie-baby. And Belle is still my sweet familiar. My dad says that Moccasin reminds him of Stitch (from "Lilo and Stitch"), and Stitch must have been modeled after a male kitten.
Well... time to... um... find something else to do.
