In Which Tamara Isn't, Ely Mopes, David Is Vigorously On The Scene, And Depression Ensues Generally.

Befuddled. That is an excellent way to describe how the J.G. is feeling about life right now. I am distinctly befuddled. I'm not sure exactly where I stand on anything at all (not even cherryade) and frankly, I think my family are going to be the death of me. Tonight at dinner, Luke did not stop shouting - yelling - oh, let's just pull out the strongly connotated words - screaming, and turning his face red the whole meal. He just lets loose with these fits, and no one knows what to say or do. My parents certainly don't. My dad just sort of sits there and occasionally says something vague and threatening, and then goes all Brando and broodish on us. Gak. Gak. Gak.

We must, however, thank God in heaven that I do not have a Tamara, like Mickey. I mean, dear God, she listened in on an entire telephone conversation. With Max, Mickey, and I. (There goes her belief that I'm not not bi. Meh.) And fought with Mickey the whole car ride about absolutely everything. Anywho. . .

(Throws things.)

Sorry. Frustrated.

Where were we?

(Throws more things, including a rubber duck at David.)

Heh.

I'm tired of this.

Ely: I'm depressed.

Erika: You're depressed? That's my thing. . .

Ely: I'm depressed.

David: YOU SUCK!

Kat, Erika, and Ely: We knowwww. . .

Kat: You don't need to rub it in.

David: Whatever. . .

Ely: (Mopes.)

Kat: Oy.

All: . . .

Quote of the Day

"Kaathlyyn, you wanna blawg?"

- Mickey. Hey, I think it's funny. You had to be there.

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.