Imma be rollin on that coaster.

In. Sane. Day. Numero uno, it is Goat Day.

April 1st every year our FFA chapter has this fundraiser where we send this goat around and you have to pay to get rid of it, send it on to someone else, or just sit with it for 20 minutes. This year it was CRAZY fun, because I was in a truck with some really great girls and we had some killer convos. :)

Numero dos, it is the night of the Spanish Club lock-in.

Yeah. Skipping. My main friends all decided not to go, and the other people in the club I'm definitely not tight with. Awwwwkwarrrrd much. I did pay 5 bucks and say I would go, but AM I? NEGATIVE.

Numero tres, play practice.

I totally forgot my book and felt like a douche cake. But it was very fun, and I'm loving my character to death! :)

Numero cuatro, tomorrow. Is. Hell.

1. State trap meet.


2. 4H trash pickup.


3. Agronomy banquet.


4. Work.

Trap.

Didn't know about until this morning. Have I been to a practice yet? Nope. How many practices have I known about so far? 1. What day of the week was it? Wednesday. How many other things do I have to do on Wednesday nights? 3. Literally EVERY WEDNESDAY. I HATE myself for missing so much. I really really really do. I paid to do this. I got other people involved in it so that we could have a killer girls team. I got so many people pumped for this, and what have I been doing? JACK SHIT. Ugh, it's the WORST feeling in the world to know that you have let someone down. I HATE it SO MUCH. I'm just glad the coaches aren't complete bastards towards my latest slacker-attack. I love sweethearts. God bless them.

4H.

I love 4H. Okay, that's kind of a lie. The organization of 4H as a whole isn't all that great. When FFA kids talk about doing something against rules, we say to wear a 4H shirt. That's how it goes. Especially at the state fair. OMG aggie kid rivalry up the hizzy, I swear. In some towns (not in mine, because everyone's an aggie) there are SEVERE rivalries between the FFA chapter and the 4H clubs, because apparently fake aggies are in FFA and the real ones are in 4H (according to the 4Hers), but 4H is for all the straight laced little pansies and FFA is where all the fun happens (according to the FFAers). I see the views from both. But I'm in both, so it's whatevskies. :)

Anyway, we're having our annual 2 mile trash pick up tomorrow at two o' clock. Yippeeee! Last year we found a SCURVY ass can, and when you got anywhere near it, it smelled like death/feces/armpit/truck stop bathroom. You guessed it, it was a spitter. Yay, people who chew and throw their spitters out of their window. I hate you on so many levels.

Agronomy.

My sister is majoring in agron up at ISU, so this is allllll her thing. It starts at 5:30. We have to leave home at 3:30. That leaves me like an hour ISH to be at 4H before I have to leave to go home and take a shower before going up to *insert redneck accent here* that there big timin city, there. */redneck accent*

Work.

Why can't money just go die in a hole someplace?

Along with janitorial work.

Who needs dirt?

I mean, for purposes other than planting things in.

Whatever.

I'm going to go do what I actually enjoy.

Edit some of my photography and attempt to explain to my inept parents how much it actually means to me.

And if you actually read all this, I freaking love you.

Lovelovelovelovelove,

Chrissyface♥