Oh look. It's 1:00 in the freaking morning. Yippee. My head goes, fuzz fuzz fuzz.

Right, well, back to my exciting life. My brother's wedding was lovely, of course. It was in a former country club with lots of gargantuan windows. It would all have been perfect had I not fainted on top of my bouquet in the middle of the Lighting of the Unity Candle. Oh well. Mother took me get my blood sugar tested yesterday (pricked in the finger, ouch!) and I don't appear to be dying, at least not at an abnormally accelerated rate.

I have an extremely loud sticker on my desk drawer. It says "Immunized Kid," and there's a large smiley face over the last "i." It's really kind of creepy. And what's the point? I mean, what kid is going to be all eager to be stabbed in the arm just so he can receive a hideous sticker with a demonic grin?

I like the sticker much better with the crying rubber ducky that says "Sadly, chicken pox can be serious."

I got my first Hepatitis B vaccine yesterday. Can you tell? It didn't hurt nearly as much as the blood sugar test, but the needle was horrifically long. They should not make needles that long when they aren't going to stick that much in you. It's pyschological torture.

I had my first college test today. ("Mommy wow! I'm a big kid now!") It took fifteen minutes. The class is normally two hours longer. How pathetic. It was oral communications, though, so I wasn't exactly expecting an essay test. Still, I had some sort of vague misinformed notion that when one reached the prestigious college platform, the days of fill-in-the-blank tests complete with word boxes were long gone.

I have an unhealthy obsession with reformatting my HTML. I do it nearly every day, just making tiny insignificant changes. I stole some JavaScript. Now my diary is cool and technologically savvy.

I'm also starting to get a sneaking suspiscion that all of this would make any sense only to a person who
a) has been up all night, or
b)is drunk, high, or some combination thereof
I have discovered that these two states are highly similar.

Not that I've actually been high. Or drunk. But I got fairly close to the latter last Friday at the rehearsal dinner. Chardoney (which undoubtably is NOT spelled like that) is good. Hmm. Maybe this accounts for all the fainting business.

Starting to think about Jonathan. Definite sign that I should go to bed. (No, that is not intended in a sick manner, you pervert. Or teenager. These are also highly similar.)

Well, goodnight. Morning. Whatever.