Marc

First things first: I hate Matt. I was so drunk at that party with the girl, and the making out, and the things. If I could condemn someone, he'd be the one. I hate him so.

Second: It's shitstorming outside. It's snowing. It's raining. It's drizzling. There's sleet. There's snow. There's a big fucking nasty pile of shit that looks like snow but feels like slush, and its nasty, and it seeps into your shoes, but you still have to trudge home through it, and it sucks, but that's the way it goes. Christ.

Tonight was alright, I guess. We drank at the student union, known as The Bone. We used coffee cups from the local gas station, which gave them to us at cost, even though Matt reached over the counter like a spazz to get his and knocked over a lighter and some other stuff. The guy behind the counter looked at him, kind of pissed off like, and said something. I wish I remember what it was, but I don't.

We went to a couple of parties. Nothing spectacular. I stole some girls lighter at one, and she was so upset about it she almost started crying? What?! Fuck that shit. Dumb, emotional bastard. I was fucking around. Once again ... Christ.

I'll probably write again tomorrow, or erase this. Either way, you'll be hearing more. Too-ta-loo.