Mortified Monday: Real diary entry written during this week in February, 1974. Age 15.
Thursday. This is going to be short and sweet cuz I am ready to drop dead. Honestly, I have to stop running around so much. First, I got up, ate breakfast, and ran around school like a nut. K was in LA today. I went to practice at 6:30-9:30 and I saw foxy, voluptuous P-Baby. I swear I wish J would evaporate.
I worked on my drugs notebook. That was today and.
sick of WRITING.
Saturday, in the park.
I WAS supposed to be in the park, but I had to work. I told L that I couldn't because I felt lousy and she couldn't get anybody else because I don't know why. So I went down there and after a while I told her I was sick of religion, politics, and her brother. Boy did she have a cow when I said that! I don't care. I thought it was sad though, that the only way she understands anything is if you slam her head in the door and hurt her dense feelings, poor thing. Anyway, I was supposed to go down and work with my film group in the park today. Too bad you know who isn't in our film group. He is so cute. Every time he walks by me I just want to grab him and attack him. Control yourself, Rhonda.
Last night K and I went and had AFS enchiladas before the basketball game, and we even won, 71-56. At least now Cabrillo’s in the hole instead of us. But it was a fun evening and we even saw Snotface Atchley. I guess he was mad because we beat his beans.
Mr. Cutts knows where the carnation came from, and just who “hotpants" is. He was antagonizing us in the snack bar line last night.
Yuk. I have to go to church in the morning. I can't stand being with her anymore. Oh! If tomorrow is nice K and I are going to golf. Bye!