Lullaby Leah
30/12/2007
Hello diary.
Well, It's like, seven past midnight, so technically this will be about yesterday.
Nothing intresting really happened today. Dad tried to make omelette and actually set the kitchen on fire. I kept saying, "Are you sure it's mean to have that much butter?". Im pretty sure it shouldn't have any butter come to think of it.
Atleast that's not as bad as Frank's "Cajun" of which he treated me for lunch.
I really do not understand how these guys eat whentheir on tour. When I asked them Ray answered, "One word, Takeouts."
We then had a long and boring conversation about the best takeout place. That conversation then somehow went to cell phones, then make-up. God, these guys are screwed.
I had such a weird dream last night. My real mom had come and picked me up from school and then told me off for being adopted by Gerard. She then bought me all this slutty stuff. Everytime I saw her in my dream, she seemed to get blonder and blonder, and her skirt shorter, her top lower. When I woke up, it took me ten minutes to convince myself that she wasn't behind my open bedroom door, which was apprently opened by fFank who was going to jump on my bed.
For some reason, he came over this morning, surprised he knew that there was a morning, and dad blames him for distracting him from cooking.
New years is coming up. I better buy Bob some kind of present. I'll probably get him something stupid, like a feather bra to match the thong I got him last year.
Me and Bob have a very strange relationship. He often buys me condoms, which totally freaks Dad out, especially when I expertly use them on cucumbers.
Not that I know of course!
I should go to sleep now, my wrist hurts again. I haven't done this much writing since school *insert sarcastic cheer here*
Goodnight :-)
Well, It's like, seven past midnight, so technically this will be about yesterday.
Nothing intresting really happened today. Dad tried to make omelette and actually set the kitchen on fire. I kept saying, "Are you sure it's mean to have that much butter?". Im pretty sure it shouldn't have any butter come to think of it.
Atleast that's not as bad as Frank's "Cajun" of which he treated me for lunch.
I really do not understand how these guys eat whentheir on tour. When I asked them Ray answered, "One word, Takeouts."
We then had a long and boring conversation about the best takeout place. That conversation then somehow went to cell phones, then make-up. God, these guys are screwed.
I had such a weird dream last night. My real mom had come and picked me up from school and then told me off for being adopted by Gerard. She then bought me all this slutty stuff. Everytime I saw her in my dream, she seemed to get blonder and blonder, and her skirt shorter, her top lower. When I woke up, it took me ten minutes to convince myself that she wasn't behind my open bedroom door, which was apprently opened by fFank who was going to jump on my bed.
For some reason, he came over this morning, surprised he knew that there was a morning, and dad blames him for distracting him from cooking.
New years is coming up. I better buy Bob some kind of present. I'll probably get him something stupid, like a feather bra to match the thong I got him last year.
Me and Bob have a very strange relationship. He often buys me condoms, which totally freaks Dad out, especially when I expertly use them on cucumbers.
Not that I know of course!
I should go to sleep now, my wrist hurts again. I haven't done this much writing since school *insert sarcastic cheer here*
Goodnight :-)