June 29, 2003 - 1:30 p.m.
I feel disgusting: my face is peeling after days of being sunburned. Seriously. I've never burned in my life, so I didn't think that being outside for one day during Warped Tour was going to give me anything but a decent tan. I was so wrong. My skin is peeling off like Goldmember's (you guys have seen the third Austin Powers movies, right?). Only I don't eat it. Cause that would be pretty gross.
Alright, now that I've gotten the majority of you to click on that X on the upper right hand corner, I'm going to actually talk about something that isn't gross. Well, I suppose it is.
After two hours of boredom, my grandma asked me if I wanted to read a book. The first thing that came to my mind was the piles of romance novels she has. I have always held them in deep contempt. If I wanted to read porn, I could read it online (horray for fanfiction...). And romance novels are always so typical and predictable. Even the sex scenes are nondescript. I just don't get how old women can get off on them...anyways.
But she pointed to her shelf of old books. I'm surprised I've never really looked at them; I suppose I've always thought, "Oh, look! Old books! I bet they are the fake kind that lead to a safe or some shit. And maybe if I twist that candlestick, I'll find a secret passageway."
But, yeah, books. I've read a lot of them: Tom Sawyer and Alice in Wonderland and Jane Eyre. And some didn't interest me, like Five Little Peppers and How They Grew. But I spotted a leather-bound book with the word "Veritas" embossed on it in gold.
"I'm not sure what that is," my grandmother told me. I opened it up to the title page. Don Quixote. I've been wanting to read this for a while. Something tells me that Senor Quixote is going to be my new best friend.
Thanks to Nate, Brett, Little Arsonist, Treyz, Hunter, Faye Faye, and Kristie for the guestbook entries. I've been really lazy on getting back to some of you. But I still love you guys.
