And my socks have butterflies and hearts on them.

Kids hijacked me again. I escaped after only 15 minutes. Take that, 11-year-olds! But then a few of them followed me to my car. Not funny kids. When I leave, I want to leave, dammit.

Rarely discussed fact o' mine: I have no standard whatsoever for meals. Being with G has made me a bit more well-balanced, but when I'm at home, I eat when I can't stand being hungry anymore. Because I'm never home, I have a ridiculous amount of instant packaged foods (microwave popcorn, easy mac, curry that I bought when I got here and still refuse to eat or throw out) to choose from. And yet what did I have for "dinner?"

A twix bar, a reese's cup, a pack of saltines, two hard-boiled eggs, and here's the clincher--cold hot chocolate. Yep, too lazy to even microwave water.

Okay, so this is a slight exaggeration. I rarely eat real dinners because school lunch is so filling (but not as much as it used to be, damn city!), and I really wanted chocolate milk.

Hooray mundane life! Hooray no school for two days (replaced by moderately helpful seminar)!

[edit: And even those they're warm and comfy, I hate these socks by the way. Thanks Mom.]

[edit #2: And then I saw a blog with this gem:

"Pickles + peanut butter = yummy dinner."

Ew. Man. I take it back. I do have standards.]