witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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FUUUUUUUUUUUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

So, basically I'm fucking pissed and I spent a good portion of today complaining to people...sorry if you had to listen to me bitch and moan. Fuck. I'm sooo mad, though.

I'm used to getting 90's in English and now I have 77. What the fuck? Honestly. I went from a 94 to a 77! This bitch hates me, and her exact words to me were "Your writing is horrible. You use too much vocabulary and all your sentences are awkward".

Fuck you. Your face is horrible. You eat too much food and all your body is awkward.

Okay, so that made no sense but I'm pretty angry. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Stupid Dr.Lemon. Stupid Dr.Lemon's ugly clothes.

I blame it all on her. I clearly can't concentrate on English when her stomache is hanging over her jeans and her vile belly button is showing; it's an obvious distraction.

5:12 p.m. - Monday, Oct. 17, 2005

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