They make different kinds because they know I like different kinds

Dammit. I just wrote an entire good post and then pressed the “publish post” button, expecting the publishing screen to pop up obediently like it should. But no, the dreaded white error screen came up instead and all was lost. I hate that.

I also hate that damn Mott’s girl. Why do they have to play that commercial so often?

Two people in the last four years have told me that I should go into journalism. Maybe that’s a sign?

At Joanna’s sweet sixteen there was a fortune teller. I know she was credible because she knew that my friend had back problems and he didn’t have a limp or a hump or anything! She read my palm and looked up at me with surprise. She told me that I have something special about me; that I know things that people have to learn. She told me that I am psychic. News to me. She said that I would go into interior decoration and that my relationship wasn’t going so well. The interior decoration made some sense to my sixteen year old self, for I did enjoy a good Trading Spaces now and then, but my relationship not going well? No kidding. How can a relationship go well when there is none to speak of?

I would be interested to see what a fortune teller would predict for me at this point. Really I don’t believe in that kind of thing. Horoscopes? Bullshit. Fate? Nah. God? I don’t think so (in the pensive way, not the adamant way). Someone once told me he believes in chance. I guess that is about right for my belief system as well.

I have a stats meeting today, my last stats class and psych class, and the sociology good bye party tomorrow, my last undergraduate class on Wednesday, and my first exam on Friday. I’ll be finished everything next Saturday. We booked the moving van today.

I can't stop loving them. I just love them, the way they taste!