Art by Meddygon

Five minutes after she and I were discussing something, she goes on about it again. After about two minutes of listening to her talk rather loudly about the girl in the next room, I say to her, “Okay, we stopped talking about this five minutes ago.”

“There’s not need to be so rude, you brought it up!” (which it did, now seven minutes prior.)

“And we’ve already said all we’re going to say on the matter.”

“It’s not big deal” blah, blah, etc.

*shush noises*

“Oh don’t you shush me, you brought it up.”

“And now I’m trying to END it.”

Grand. Someone just called for Lametria Scott.

“She doesn’t live here anymore.”

Which is true. So no one should be calling her here, ever. Right?

Well, she’s been using my phone without me knowing, as Maria told me a while ago. I really didn’t care, because it very easily could have just been Maria trying to get me to take sides. Now I have a little bit of proof.

Ashley’s already told me that she doesn’t use the phone at all, as she has her own cell phone. Good. Then she won’t mind me taking the phone with me to school. Maria doesn’t use the phone, either, except when she NEEDS to talk to her mother. She’s going to her mother’s house later today, so she won’t be needing the phone.

I said to Ashley a while ago: “Your friends do not live here, they should not be using the phone.” That didn’t mean anything to her other than she has to hide it from me now.

Lametria’s got her own cell phone, she doesn’t need to be using my house-line. She doesn’t even need to be coming to my apartment. I swear, next time she is at the door, wanting to bitch at me about something, I’m just shutting it in her face.

She often feels the need to come and complain about something. Apparently, placing her junk mail (100% third class mail) in front of her mailbox is wrong, and she would “ah-PREE-shate” it if I didn’t do that. She’d also prefer that, instead of telling her friends to stop calling here, I instead pass the messages on to her.

She moved out a month ago, folks. She also agreed to not give out my phone number to her friends, because she had a cell phone.

Then she has the nerve to call my friends ghetto when she can’t even spell it.

It’s funny how, whenever I say something to Maria along the lines of, “You shouldn’t skip school,” or “You shouldn’t waste your money on taxis,” she always says, “Hahha, you sound just like my mother.” Mom’s can’t possibly have good advice, can they now.

She said she was going to bed twelve minutes ago.

She talked for ten. She’s finally turned off the light.

Now she’s muttering to herself VERY LOUDLY. “oh gawd, it’s so hawt” etc.

Maria just came into our room to tell me that she heard Ashely making noises, and assumes she was masturbating. Maria described it first at “choking and gagging noises” so I assumed Ashley was puking. Then Maria said, “No, it was moaning! She was on the phone, too!”
WHO THE FUCK CARES?!

She went on to explain how stupid she felt because, here she was, worried that Ashley might be choking, and she was just “doing her own thing.” Repeat this three times in different ways, and you’ve got the “conversation.” Then she decides to tell me that she doesn’t masturbate anymore.

No sex, no masturbation, no brain. Poor girl.

So she eats a donut without asking. I ask her to not—I wish she’d shut up so I can fucking concentrate on what I’m typing—I ask her to not do it again. She says I’m overreacting, it’s just a donut.

If she’d asked, I’d have no problem. But she took it the moment I left the apartment to go outside with Troy while he smoked a cigarette. We were gone three minutes.

“I took part of the long john, is that all right?”
I sighed, and said, “Just don’t do it again.”

She took half the long john. She broke off half the donut, and left the other half in there. I asked her if she wanted to finish it, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. She says no, she’s stuffed.

Then she asks Troy if he’s married.

I’m only up right now because Maria doesn’t know how to quietly open and close doors.

Well, Maria’s back here. She went straight home from school because she wanted money, or so she says. She called her parents to pick her up from downtown. I bet she just got lost/confused.

Just thought I should mention that Maria and I were late for class yesterday because she spent 45 minutes on her hair.

She and I had class at the same time, so I figured I’d teach her how to use public transportation. That’s right, she never knew how to use it. I explained to her that we needed to leave really early, because we’d be walking part of the way to get our bus passes.

I set a time for us to leave. She was ten minutes late for that, because of her hair.
The words, “You’re walking too fast,” were common from her mouth. Strangely, I was walking slower than normal.

We waited for a bus, got on, then waited for a train. I had to tell her to hang on to her bags. First thing she did in the train was take a pair of seats for herself, throwing her book bag and purse on the seat next to her.

I also had to explain to her to make sure to get on the NORTHBOUND train to get home. I reiterated- it’s the one that says HOWARD on it.

I haven’t seen her since we arrived at school yesterday. She probably got lost.