Wednesday, March 10, 2004

I called Dior Boy an asshole during teacher advisor today and listed the things he said about me back to him:

"What about you thinking you got me wrapped around your finger? What about that?"

He didn't even try to defend himself, kept his head down the whole time, but looked up long enough to look shocked. Self-incriminating jerk.

It was supposed to come out as, "I thought we were friends, but you've disappointed me. At least be discrete about bad mouthing me." Spoken to him in private.

It sure didn't turn out that way, though I did add it near the end ... aggressively. But what a catharsis. The last months of high school rocks the rock. I mean, I can do and say whatever the hell I want without having to face these people again. It's the ultimate "screw you" kiss-off.

Not including gunning down your co-workers with an illegally obtained M16 you got from a syphilitic Israeli for half a pack of Double Bubble chewed by a one-legged prostitute.

Nothing beats that.

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