Do not tempt me.

Ooooh I am SUCH A GOOD STALKER... you cannot imagine my stalkerness.
The subject of this rather intriguing entry comes from Becky (<3)'s aim profile. She put a link to an online diary site (www.digitalexpressions.nu) and said "come find me..." so my natural stalkerish instincts said "GO FIND HER!" so I did. I tried a hundred search strings before typing "Springstead". So I clicked on all of the things that came up, finally finding one that sounded familliar. It did NOT sound like Becky, but it DID sound like someone who could be a friend of hers. So I clicked. And one of the comments to whoever-it-is's journal was by a person called bleedingblack--- which is her.
Man, I rock.
Before you ask, yes, I DO practice.

...the word rock makes me sad, and I don't know if any of you can even decipher its meaning. Hint: I almost cried in Spanish because that's how you pronounce skirt in German. Maybe Bianca can remember.
-Eyevee @ 12:21 PM

See my friends list to see who I stole this from.

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Ivyette @ 12:40 AM

Bored.

Today was so massively uneventful it isn't funny.
Yesterday my mother and I spent the whole day cleaning. I had to clean my bathroom (eeeeeeeh) and I had to scrub the marks off of the floor in the kitchen. It was TERRIBLE. I'm allergic to cleaning solutions and was delerious with pain by the time I was finished. Also, I'm allergic to oil, so fried foods are killers. I made a dish today that had olive oil (my own recipe! hee!) and it was worth the headache it gave me, although I wish I wasn't allergic to the smell of it cooking. Sigh.

I found an ancient Wal*Mart shopping card in my room the other night. It still has 7 bucks on it... that means I have a seven dollar shopping spree to go on, hahahahah.

I found these lyrics and I adore them.

Child-like, no one understands
Jackknife in your sweaty hands.
Some kind of innocence
Is measured out in years,
You don't know what it's like
To listen to your fears

You can talk to me,
You can talk to me,
You can talk to me,
If you're lonely, you can talk to me.

(etc, etc, etc then...)
Some kind of solitude
Is measured out in you
You think you know me,
But you haven't got a clue.

Great song.
-Ivyette @ 10:46 PM