20.0

It is 7:16 of the PMs and I have done nothing but internet all day along with some sprinkled math problems here and there.

Hooray for the life of a 21st century teenager who thinks she's too cool for everything but her desk.

Oh yeah. Get ready, America. I am your future.

But honestly, this whole week has been more productive than a Chinese sweat shop. So doing nothing has given me that refreshingly grubby feeling that everyone gets when they sit on their ass for too long.

In addition to the adipose coagulating in the area that is supposed to be my waist, three new volcanoes have been born. They're nicely aligned on my cheek. I can pretend they're bite marks from some three-toothed demon instead of cysts filled with facial residue.

Adolescence is so disgusting. And I say "adolescence" because that's a much better sounding word than "puberty". Ugh. That word definitely sounds like what it means.

Though I feel that the only part of me that is "pubescent" would have to be my physique. It got stuck at age 12. My brain is probably that of a 40 year old woman with cats to substitute as actual biological offspring. As far as my girly hormones that cause me to constantly shriek and whine, I have those. But when your male English teacher can out-brat you.... well... I don't know what to make of that, actually. I feel like I should be ashamed because I can be out-brat-ed by an adult man, but at the same time I feel slightly superior.

But for the most part I feel ashamed.

God, men just have to be better than women at everything. Even at being women.

I've already been told I have the eyes of a 35 year old woman. By my eye doctor, of course. I am blessed with small pupils. And I say blessed because then I can do weed and my pupils will look normal when dilated because they are naturally smaller, like the grinch's heart, but these are eyes.

But I kid. The likelihood that I will willingly intoxicate myself in the latter years is probably slim to none. Mainly because I have no friends with whom to get intoxicated WITH. And we all know it's only fun if there's someone to film/quote your profane spurts of genius you gave birth to in that cloud of herbal armpit smell.