The Bob Dylan documentary by Martin Scorcese was on PBS tonight and I almost jizzed my pants I was so excited. They showed parts from this old documentary shot in 1966 called Eat the Document that never ended up being released and all these old folk singers and Dylan himself talking and him singing old songs and him looking like a sexy ass beast back in the day and his old girlfriend Suze Rotolo who's on the cover of the Freewheelin' Bob Dylan with him and the live version of Like a Rolling Stone that literally gives me goosebumps IT'S SO FUCKING AWESOME and I'm going to stop now before I jizz again.
So um, I didn't write a paper that was due today. Instead I just cried all last night because I was so overwhelmed and had no idea how to even BEGIN to do it. So um....that means I'm dropping the class which leaves me with 19 hours I have to take next semseter. THAT'S SEVEN FUCKING CLASSES. SEVEN. I swear I'm dreaming about the number seven because that's all I can think about. I can't take a class over the summer because that would mean I couldn't graduate until December and I want my fucking graduation party in June goddamnit. Oh, plus my parents would kill me, I guess that's important to mention too. I also decided that I will not tell them what I'm planning on doing because.....well actually I don't know why because they'd just say what they always say, "Four years Kate, four years." Christ I hate myself.
Keri called me this past Sunday and after only talking for a minute, her phone cut off. AND YOU DIDN'T CALL ME BACK. What the fuck? You resort to leaving me a goddamn comment instead of a phone call? I don't deserve that. I mean god, it's not like I started crying after I read what you wrote because I miss you like a banshee; it was because I'm a pre-menopausal woman. (There's this commercial here in the States, which is what I think you have to call it now, where this mom talks about her 21 year old daughter dying from heart disease and I cry EVERY TIME I see it. Christ on a crucifix, I didn't think I'd start acting like mom this early in life). But anyways, I have so many things to tell you. Like how I GAINED .7 pounds when I weighed myself last Thursday (I blame it on the fact that I had to pee when I stepped on the scale), how I love this song by Sufjan Stevens called Sister (you're my sister!), how the White Sox are still ahead 2 games, but you gotta keep your fingers crossed girl, don't become obsessed with rugby or something, how Brother Bear drank from 3pm-1am Saturday and I was so damn proud of him and the prank phone call some girl at Emily's work got:
Girl: Who is this?
Guy: A lotta vagina.
Girl: C'mon, really, who is this?
Guy: Big penis.
Girl: You better tell me who you are.
Guy: Hard nipples.
She actually called the police and wanted to file a sexual harassment case against him. I'm dying for someone to prank call me like that now. But um, I guess that's it. As you can tell, you're missing a whole lot over here across the pond. I'm glad you're having a good time smoking your fags, getting pissed on Guinness and eyeing your housemate. I remember telling Emily, before you even said it, that you'd end up sleeping with one of your roommates. I know you too well. It's like we're SISTERS or something. I love you I love you I love you too and I'll see you so fucking soon it's not even funny.
And finally, I would like to say HAPPY 25H BIRTHDAY Billy Jack! Don't worry, I haven't forgotten that I owe you a golden shower. I know how you much love those. My present to you is the DVD of Pete's Dragon (hold your breath for it). And my unconditional love. Don't forget that. Bill just saved $120 on his car insurance, bitches.