Standardized testing is about as fun as having your spinal cord ripped out through your ass.

It's been fuckin' chaos around the school. IB Testing is going on, teachers are handing out their final projects, and certain students - such as a certain special someone who has an I in Spanish (HOW do you manage that!?) - are scrambling to pull up grades, standardized tests loom right around the corner (my first is next Monday), and after that, finals!

I saw poor Becca wobbling down the hallway yesterday like she was on something fierce, but she'd just gotten out of an IB Test. Those things work your brain like four miles around the track in 90+ humid weather. Crazy, fikkle creatures, they is.

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Greg can lift me up. Let's give him a hand, ladies and gents, as that cannot be an easy feat to accomplish. He picked me up like I was nothin', and claimed I was light!

Then again, that kid's got abs like mad, he probably could pic up my entire lunch table and barely break a sweat.

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Because I think he might be reading this right now (and if he's not, I'll make him read it later...)

I love you, Ilya. ;p I'm writing about my day just because I know you, at least, will read it, even if it's long and boring and no one else will.

And to everyone who isn't Ilya, don't look forward to too many entries like this; I'm getting a new "diary" and lockin' it up so's only my friends (and my honey) can get to it.

But for now, The Nessinator (God shoot me) is tired.

G'night.

End