29/03/2002 - 7:58 p.m.

Must be the season of the witch.

OK, here's an odd story about the day before yesterday. I'd been looking for my Music Competition tape for about three days. No ideas as to where it had got. On Wednesday, before leaving for school, I had gotten angry looking for it and just decided to do something about it. I stood on my bed in the middle of the room and made an announcement:

The first time I'd made it to my room that day was at about 9 o clock, and I walk in and I just go ahead and look, just because. Well, there, sitting right exactly where I had directed it to sit, was the tape. I went to my brother- did you have my choir tape? It's white, it's got my name on it, you play it and Mrs. Sims sings you two songs? No, he didn't have it. I ask the grown-ups, they look at me like I'm from Mars, how would they get into my room and why would they care? Well, the living people in the house had no part of it...

Charlie Brown rehearsal from 8-2 tomorrow. I love my costume, except that it's a skirt that comes just to my knees. It's been a long time since I've worn anything quite that short. I do not wear skirts, not even long ones. I don't wear shorts unless it's extraordinarily miserable (meaning the praries have caught fire and the rivers are boiling). However, other than that, it's quite nice. It doesn't smell like a Sharpie marker anymore, which it did, because Patty (sans the Peppermint) wears a sort of plaid yellow orange dress. They drew the plaid on with a black Sharpie, so it can't be washed, but then you're not supposed to eat in costume anyway (ooh, note to Andy). But there is much five year old funness going on. It's sort of bad, I turn on five year old mode and I just don't come out of it. I spend about another extra hour and a half acting about five. Of course, the funny thing is that I notice it, but I do. It's very hard to be serious when you're five.

After rehearsal tomorrow then, I thought maybe I could go to Ren's birthday party. Ha ha ha ha. Boy was I ever wrong about that one. I came home and did some more begging than I'd done on the phone over lunch and this time my mother goes "Look, it's your father's birthday tomorrow, the least you could do is be home. You're already going to this rehearsal thing, so I don't think you need to be doing anything else. This is his birthday."

Needless to say, I'm pissed off. So he's old, goody for him. I couldn't care much less. Did anybody at my house recognise that I had a birthday? Uhhh, ten weeks and I'm out of here (just less than).

Oh, in case anybody out there's a big Slipknot fanatic one of them's buying a house in a really swanky part of town (Foster Drive) to use for wild crazy parties. Of course, I heard this from the school paper, so it might be absolute crap, but, well, everybody in the state of Iowa has a connection, it's inevitable (How inbred are we? Very.). One of my friends is first cousins with one of them, and another one of my friends has a friend who went out with one of them and there are probably countless other connections that I don't know about. So, anybody looking for a Slipknot story just walk up to an Iowan and ask... Remember, you heard it from me.