Emily and I are bored.

Emily and I should be writing our final press release for Writing for PR. BUT, we are lying on my bed and chatting about doing it... instead of actually doing it. Which sucks because we purposely hopped ourselves up on sugar and caffeine, and now we are coming down…. boo.

Also my room officially has been uprooted and I now reside in Hope’s little bungalow… and it's weird. It’s too real now. No me gusta.

Oh well, soon enough I’ll move my junk again, and it will be like I never left.

Emily says her stomach hurts… I can’t help but think it had something to do with the Heath bar that just disappeared… in about a minute... good job Em. Alright, I have to study for my music final and Emily needs to make herself useful in some way (that means doing something besides watching Gilmore Girls… yes Emily, I’m talking to you. Loralei and Rory are not real. But your stats final is.) Mwahhaha. Peace.