Friend Tim shakes hands with Perfect Specimen of Mankind. Will never wash right hand again.

You;re colling me, So i fugure you must not hate me anymore. dOES THIS MEAN YOU WANNA GO OUT? iI'm free tonight. I mean , I have plans, but i can break them. For you. Brandon, you kidnapped me. And then you made the only person I'll ever love in my life hate me. I completely despise you. So..., I take that as a no, you do not want to go out with me tonight.

My mother's psychologist says I have an overactive anger switch, but people just keep pissing me off.

Oh my God. I thought I was going to have an aneurysm right there in line. Your hair smells really good? Your hair smells really good? Who did he think he was? James Bond? You don't tell someone their hair smells good. Not in a mall.

I felt as if the Milky Way, hovering above our heads like a celestial pitcher, had suddenly overturned, pouring suns and planets down my throat. Stars seemed to be shooting out of my finger and toes, the ends of my hair.

I realized Michael was right. I mean, I am always writing in this journal. And I do compose a lot of poetry, and write a lot of notes and emails and stuff. I mean, I feel like I am always writing. I do it so much, I never even thought about it as a talent. It's just something I do all the time, like breathing.

I swear, sometimes I am convinced my life is just a series of sketches for America's Funniest Home Videos, minus all that pants-dropping business. Except my life really isn't all that funny if you think about it.