Dude! Oh jesus, I've fucken passed my driver's examn. I am the -legal- holder of a licence! This doesn't imply that I am actually able to drive, just that I can legally practice on my own. Because I'm the worst driver in the world. Nevertheless, I've been cruising all around town the whole day and I'm really worn out but it feels like a million dollars baby.

My internet's not working these days so I'm passing the time rather annoyed, but I do hope it's going to be fixed soon so I can go back to my daily routine of spending hours on the PC without a social life. Not that I need one, just saying.

Tomorrow I'll be clubbing again and I hope K.'s coming along, too, so we can make out again but I don't think she's going to. She seemed rather... well, not that she regrets things but she must've been really really drunk. I don't care right now. I can drive.

Oh and, I'm going to fetch my new cell phone tomorrow, too... and go donate some plasma (in return of 15 bucks, for doing nothing but sitting and chilling for an hour). Hell, being 18 sounds like the kinda fun that I could have.

What's really stressing these days, though, is school.. still. I can't help but feel I'm wasting my time. The only really intersting subject right now, it's history, but by God that doesn't mean a dime considering how much of a torture the rest of my classes are. Basically, I'm only going to school because a) if I didn't my parents would want me to get married or something and b) my parents would want me to get married or something and c) my parents would want me to get married or something and finally d) I don't think I'd like a job and I don't have anything else to do right now.

Whatever. I can drive (and I discovered how much I like singing. Especially when I drive. Oh my God I'm so so stunned I passed.)

On account of it being my birthday, here is the best story in the world:

I HAVE TICKETS TO THE CHILI'S CONCERT IN FRANKFURT!

And tonight I'm going to go out and have a goddamn fucking blast.
By the way, today is also the day that I'm exactly ONE year single.

Me so horny.

Nothing worthy of telling is happening at this time. I'm going to Czechia on Friday with my driving teacher. It's like one major driving class. Six hours of driving, and I'm going to share the car with another student. Sounds like lots of fun, and I can buy cheap cigarettes over there.

Anyway, the rest of my life is pretty boring. School is overwhelming and killing, and I'm thinking about dropping out because I don't know if I can do it. I know I can qualify for next year, but I don't know if I'll be happy with my results after 13 years of semi-hard work.

In any case, I want to go and watch Borat. It must be the best movie in the world.

I have never really been into chocolate. Particulary because I treat my teeth like shit and the pain reminds me of it every time I have something even remotely sweet... even salty stuff hurts. No really, it does. But sometimes I get a craving and that's when I'll have to deal with this crap. I'll get me some cheap stuff and just stuff it up inside of me. I always feel like throwing up afterwards. Why chocolate when you can have a blood dripping steak (can you see Homer Simpson in front of you? I certainly do when I look into the mirror).

Despite that, there was a time when I'd gladly spend some of my hard earned, uhm, pocket money-- anyway, I'd buy me a chocolate bar any given day at school because it was actually that delicious. It was one of my very least favourite bars, you know Mars? Right. I could go with Snickers sometimes, but Mars is disgusting. Too creamy-caramel, and too much sugar. WAY too much. Even for the craving. Except, they made it with almonds back then.

I wasn't exactly happy, you know? But when I think back to these times where school was just a bore and merely a way to gather my friends all around me, that bar of chocolate always pops into my mind, how I'd really enjoy standing in line for five minutes, just to eat it, enjoy it.

And then they stopped making it. I don't know why... it never occured to me to ask the company, either. Why would I? It's not as if they'd start making it again. And maybe I wouldn't want to know the reason anyway. I do believe it was the beginning of my personal dilemma. You just can't take away a girl's favourite chocolate bar.

.. and also, I had my hair cut again. I thought Kate Moennig was getting a little old, you know. Except I still look like Kate Moennig. Ten years ago (nevermind the icky fringe, but it's really close to what it looks like).

I don't have a camera right now, but it's killing me so, so bad. This is the problem with people you let touch your hair: They just do whatever they fucking want. This is a perfect day to jump off the Very Bad Hair Bridge.

I got my period today! Score! In addition, I've also gained the wisdom to why someone would invent something as unforgivable as "Happy Period Ecards"! It's for those rare occasions where you'd rather jab your eyes out with chopsticks than have a baby- who would've guessed, I had believed that the cutters among the girls considered their monthly bleeding a free bonus- you know, the "cut once bleed twice" offer.

You have no idea how much I love my ovaries right now. I feel joyous and overwhelmed and although I'll be as red as a communist for a week, I've never been so proud of myself for not panicking and doing hasty things (like drinking a bottle of detergent). Although that one time when I met my ex-boyfriend at the beach, I didn't pull my pants down to take a crap in his face right there. I'll give some credit for that, too.

I also got rid of Cucumber. It's a long and winding story but she's gone. I do think she figured me out though, for I was supposed to be in Cologne when someone called our home phone and hung up after I said my name. She's not exactly stupid. And I don't like hurting other people's feelings- I still feel horrible.

Ah hell who cares I've got my period (and saved myself ten bucks for a pregnancy test).

It's official now: I'm the worst friend on the entire face of the earth, in our galaxy and in this whole fucking universe. If I were to meet me on the street, I'd make a U-Turn on the spot, no matter what it cost me. No really. I might seem cute, but hell, there are no words for this.

While I was visiting Munich, I stayed at Cucumber's place. She'd offered me in return to my offer a couple of months ago. It's a three day trip, and although I feel repulsed by her parents and I'd rather be independent - especially playing it tourist - I accepted the generous offer. After all, I'm a cheap person, and I needed a cheap place to stay (no seriously. Twenty bucks in my pocket? I'm so going to rent a 6 star suite at the 4 Seasons).

Anyway, I'd have had better plans than spending my time with a single person, but she's nice, noble and plenty fun. I don't see her all that much and almost never talk to her on the phone, so I thought this could be a good opportunity to take a break from my current life and just, you know, let all chains hang loose. But she's also very loud. And childish. And naive. And annoying. And she tries too hard! That's that one thing you shouldn't do about me. Don't try to buy me. Don't compliment me. Don't-- nothing! The more you do it, the more you get on my nerves. It's a common rule. And after this, I'm going to print posters and put them up at every corner of this fucking town.

I returned home on Wednesday. Had a fun time, spent more money than I had & way too many hours without sleep, hey, can't possibly complain. Two hours after my arrival I get a phone call from her: Hey, I'm going to come over tomorrow so we can continue the party.

Uh. Okay. I'm broke, but no problem, we're going to find some way around that one. My parents? They really won't mind. Me? Well, I really like my bed, but okay. This could be fun.

People, it's not. It's Saturday and I'm going insane. When I asked her how long she was going to stay, she said "well, I don't know, two weeks or something?". Two weeks. TWO WEEKS. She's messy. She's clumsy. My friends are bored of her. I want my bed back. My parents wanted to go on a two day trip to Paris as a surprise, and now we can't go because she's here and I just couldn't tell her to stay somewhere else.

And then she- she just takes my things! Don't get me wrong- I don't mind if people use my shampoo or borrow my clothes, but she really digs out stuff from my drawers and from my hideouts. The first couple of times she showed up some stuff and used, I thought I had just uncautiously left them lying around- but then she asked if she could "open that bottle of Dior" that I am a hundred percent sure I had put in the last corner of my underwear drawer. What is she, trained by Intelligence, here for espionage? Looking for a love letter? Don't spread your fingers, man!

I got crazy this afternoon when a friend of hers visited her - at my place - while I was visiting another friend in the hospital, and they smoked cigarettes on our porch and left the stubs lying around. I really don't give a fuck about things like this, but my father saw it and thought I was the one who smoked, and I had to beg him to believe me I wouldn't (of course I smoke. But there's really no obligation for my parents to know of this. And there's a reason why I was able to hide it for 3 years now). I told her I'm going to visit my aunt in Cologne for a week on Monday, I just wanted her to leave. Know what she said?

"Well, think your parents would mind if I stayed while you were gone? I can wait for you. We can go partying when you're back. And meanwhile, I can go out with your friends."

I told her how I hated all this unorganized crap- she should've told me how long she was going to stay or at least checked with someone else if they had some space left- just in case. And this is case. Deep shit kind of case. Long story short, she ended up crying because there's nowhere to go while I'm in Cologne (which I'm not. I'm staying here. But I can't possibly tell her that anymore) so she has to go back home to Munich.

Way to go. I know I have reasons to be mad at her, but I just can't get over the fact that I disappointed her so much, after all she has done for me- offered me a place to stay, took me along to parties, bought me drinks (hey, I might be cheap but that time I really didn't ask for it!), she even fucking made me a lunch pack on my train ride. I just don't like her.

The time spent partying and the drinks containing caffeine exceeds the limits by far. I don't know how sleeping works anymore. I didn't know a day has so many hours. And how easily drunk you can become when you're off energy.

My new lifestyle was really refreshing and cool, but I think it's time to settle down with a nice guy who has a house and a pool. Let's raise some children and move to the suburbs. And please don't remind me of my crazy wild times, because I hate remembering I used to be a drunk stripper thankyouverymuch.

One thing's for sure: It feels like a hundred dollars to be far away, talking to strangers and thankfully, resisting the urge to get laid by a random so-so guy.

Edited: Oh, and here's one of the pictures we took at Club 4 last Saturday. We were all destroyed as you can see. I decided to put names to the people I hang out with most often so you can have faces to the names. The rest of the visuals are on my Flickr, so check them out if you really want to see my sexy hairdo, all messed up after the rain and sweat. Roar.

I went to Munich for a 10 hour party, and all I got was:

• the longest journey of my life due to 6 other freaks in the van singing *NSync songs and philosophing about how to get drunk the cheapest way and getting lost because despite GPS, we are too fucking stupid to even navigate to the closest McDonald's, let alone the city and the club we're looking for.
• a humiliating scenario with a bouncer who wouldn't let me in ("Look, I know I'm 17, but I look 18, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!")
• rain. RAIN. My haircut is NOT in tolerance of rain. Rain = Evil.
• minus 10 bucks on my account and owing my brother half of my soul because not only did he stop for me to go to the rest room, but he also paid for my tampons.
• a bust by the cops. The 7 of us plus 2 other native Munichans (I always wanted to use that word) were in the van looking for the next best place to hit (that would not check my fake ID so intensly) when Italiano, squeezed tight to the door, accidentially lifted his head. There were sirens everywhere, they stopped us, asked us what the fuck we were doing with 9 people in a van, gave us some bullshit about responsability and showed us the way to the coolest Hip Hop club in town.
• my brother fucking his ex-girlfriend in the van (while the rest of us were in the club)
• me looking like Medusa the snake head.
• seeing The Company hooking up with The Diva.

Amusing, isn't it.

That last one though, that really hit home. And maybe, probably, I have no right to be pissed off, but come on. It's just not right for them to make out. I slept with this guy. He is my best mate. She is as close to me as the herpes on my inner labia (well, she does sometimes pretend to be. It's less gross and more sexual than it probably sounds). I am invoking the unwritten rules here.

Funny enough, I am not angry at him at all. Misogynic behaviour? I don't think so. Having a secret crush on her? Maybe.
No way. At least not for the next couple of days.

It was like in a movie: I was talking to my brother at the bar about where all the people went, we cracked some jokes, danced a little and finally got some beer. We searched our friends seperately, and I ended up at the terrace. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw them locked in a tight embrace and.. and.. drooling all over each other. I really couldn't take it. I spilled the holy water of yeast and ran outside the club.

Yes. Me. Cool Fucking Sara, I just flee from the spot and never mention it again. I still can't get that picture of spit swapping out of my head. It's gross.

They never talked to me about it, either. There was no "Hey Sara, look how funny, we made out last night, ha ha!". There was no "Oh my God I was so drunk...". Nothing. Just no word about it.

I don't know what that means. I'm slightly disappointed, but certainly pissed. The Diva, as her name might reveal, is a conceited, arrogant bitch. She's also smart, kinda cute, and seems sincerely interested in me, which in return makes me a) treat her shittier than I usually would and b) makes me feel bad.

Last night I realised she would cross just about any line to feel admired and loved, no matter who she has to make out with- she will do it to be assured of her achievement. I feel repelled by this behaviour. I know I might be misjudging her here, and maybe we have a different take on things- but I would never, EVER betray a girlfriend like that. The Company and me were never exclusive, so who cares about him making out. I can see her in my inner eye shouting "OMG NOW THERE ARE THREE DIFFERENT GUYS IN OUR GROUP OF MUTUAL FRIENDS WHO LIKE ME!!!111! W00t!1!" I mean, she would totally say that if she were a MySpace emo whore- let's just pretend.

Tomorrow I'll be another 4 hours en train to Munich- The Cucumber invited me over til Wednesday (I know it sounds retarded. "Sara, you've already been in Munich today. Why did you leave in the first place if you're going to return tomorrow, anyway?" That's because my parents didn't know we took their car and went away 450 kilometres with 5 other kids. And also because I already bought the expensive train ticket. Who knew we were going to go to fucking Munich for a party?). Tomorrow's her last examn and her campus is throwing this big summer half term party where I get free drinks. Free drinks? Did anyone say free drinks?

I haven't slept properly in approximately 55 hours, after dancing, cleaning the whole house up, getting really wasted (not last night, though)-- did I mention I'm totally beyond broke? I've made it a profession living off other people's wage, except I used to balance it karma-wise. Now, there's NOTHING to give back save my company, and dude, you'd rather have a hooker on your lap instead having me burning up your stash.

Seriously. My fucking pride is on vacation.

Also, here is a video of the Sloth and Italiano getting into a stupid fight about.. well, I don't know. But they're funny idiots, Beavis & Butthead style. Only German speakers will understand, but you can hear me laughing like a tool in the background.

I've always been a wakeful person. Not in a permanent, insomniac way, merely phases of stress and emotional crisis. I'd get used to it, and soon enough I'd be back to routine- my minimum in school days is about 3 hours of sleep, on weekends maybe 8, 10 or 17, depending on how much I drank the night before. But this, right now? It's driving me out of my fucking mind.

I've tried counting sheep. I'm restlessly throwing myself from side to side. There's not one sleeping position I haven't been into. It's 3 AM, I'm dead tired, but I can't drift away. I get up to get some chocolate. I read boring Hemingway. I listen to soothing Mozart and Bach. I listen to Emo music (it didn't work. But then, Emo is generally useless). I dream up my entire future, #1. I dream up my entire future, #2, this time in a realistic manner, but it only depresses me. I text message people in Australia to keep me up. I listen to a story on tape. It's 6 AM by now and I'm listening to birds. I do advanced calculus in my head*. I wrote this blog entry in my mind. I listen to my dad using the bathroom, going downstairs and preparing the daily caffeine injection. I create & solve various Sudoku puzzles. I masturbate. Very often. I get sore and sour. I recite old Buffy quotes. I try to imagine a hook up between me and Keira Knightley. I fan fiction the upcoming events at Alias. I pray - if that doesn't prove my fucked up state of mind, then I don't know what will. It's 8 AM, the garbage truck is passing beneath my window. I think about what I could sell and possible money plans and savings (I came up with no great business ideas and I'm still skint- in fact, I have even less money. Must've spent my last bucks on the hypothetical date with Keira. She's a greedy bitch, you know). I try to compose a song and add some funky lyrics to it. I hear my brother leaving the house, so I go downstairs, turn on the PC and resume my downloads. I get back to bed. I play the association game, which is pretty boring when you do it by yourself.

Finally, at 11 AM, I fall asleep.

At 1 PM, in deep sleep and finally being able to relax, my brother storms into my room - and I mean literally storms into my room, the door had to be fixed later - because The Diva called up and convinced me brother to wake me up. He was sick of calling upstairs so he just ran inside which caused me, by the age of almost-18, to have a stroke.

This has been going on for 10 days in a row and I just can't help myself anymore. I'm on holidays, for God's sake, I should be sleeping 14 hours MINIMUM a day. Last night I felt so tired and strung out that I took some Codein, which knocked me out for a couple of hours but made me feel sick and worn in the morning. We used to take it after acid trips to lower down and ever since I'm a little sensitive to it.

In effect, I can't help jumping at anyone who provokes me in the least. Or even if they don't. I. Just. Can't. Take. It. Anymore.

*2+2=4, 4-2=2, 3+8=11, 22-10=12...