Ok, so Blogger got an update. Whatever. Time for a life update. These are always fun.
The car: Dead. The 1989 Pontiac 6000 is dead. Broken and now there is no point of getting it fixed because there is no guarantee that it will run without something else breaking the following week. We gave it to Eddie (the mechanic) and a couple of days later, my parents chipped in a down payemnt and now I am the driver of a new 2003 Hyundai Elantra… 8-). The good points on the car: high mileage, low polluants, and one option particularly impresses me on a regular basis… MP3 player… 
The only thing wrong with it is the pickup. As a friend once said, “It goes from 0-60 in 3 weeks.” I agree.
The summer job just got hot (double meanings rule). I’ve been made cabana relief again this year, and the weather got way better, so now it looks like the money will start (relatively) roll in. I just have to collect my relief money from the people I covered for and I that will be it for the weeks income. After adding it all up, it comes out to a pretty respectable amount for a relief person. I won’t give the exact #, just trust me that it’s ok by me… 
My sister just got her 4th quarter report card. She got a 4.0 GPA. Amazing. She does great in school, as a very active social life, and she’s athletic, too. I’m happy for her… almost jealous too. I mean, I’ve yet to have a real girlfriend, she’s on her second boyfriend (I think… :\) My highest GPA in high school was 3.6. Never made highest honors, and now I’m getting a 2.6. That’s sad. I mean really. It just sucks.
I got new sunglasses for the job. Me, Michelle and Dad went to the mall to pick out a pair, and what happened there was so typical of my dad. He was conversing with the much-younger-than-he-is woman behind the desk while I was looking at some of the sunglasses in the case. He made a comment on his own sunglasses to her, and she laughed (obviously she was going to laugh, she was trying to be friendly and sell us something, no SHIT she’s gonna laugh) but my dad picks it up as her being somewhat interested and keeps babaling on about his sunglasses like an idiot for about a minute. I’m just looking at Michelle with that “wow-I-can’t-believe-he’s-still-talking” look and she nods in agreement. Finally we leave and get a pair at Macy’s, but that little encounter is something that gets to me. (At this point you’re wondering why. Here’s why.)
*WARNING* If you’re easily offended by someone venting on their father, stop reading. Apparently, a person isn’t supposed to be mad at his or her family. Ever. Your family can do no wrong, so venting on them and their actions is supposedly unheard of and forbidded.
My father recently had a discussion with me about “eye contact” and looking at girls and whatever the shit you’re supposed to do when you’re anywhere looking at girls. Mind you (whoever you are reading this), I already know how to TALK to girls, and he’s seen me do it once while we were shopping around for a new car. He told me it was great, but I then should’ve asked her for her number and made plans. He seems to want me to go more forward than I already have. He doesn’t take note of the progress I’ve made so far. He justs me to keep going and going until I’m in the sac with some girl. What a fucking dumbass piece of shit. Mindless. Short sighted. He’s not in college with me. He doesn’t know how and when I talk to girls there. He doesn’t know how I talk to girls at work, or anywhere else for that matter. What makes him think that he can tell me how to talk to girls when he doesn’t know (or want to know) how I’m presently talking to them? He lectures me on the same shit evertime I see him. If he talks about it, he says the same stuff again and again. God damn it dad, shut the fuck up. I’m tired of that stupid shit. You want to help me, shutup. I’ve heard it from you too many times. I’ll bring a camcorder to my first fuck session dn I’ll show you what you can do with all your “gold advice” shmuck.
Wow. That was fun. So uhh… yeah.
So whatever. If you’re a friend of mine, talk to me on AIM if you see me. Call my cell phone if you know the number. I think I just depressed myself. (Mind you, I didn’t do it just now, I think I’ve been depressed all day.)