Today feels like Friday and I like it a lot. There's no class on real Friday and I just now decided I'm skipping tomorrow, because the thought of coming all the way here just to listen to a bunch of painfully terrible speeches that are going to get better grades than mine because the "controversial" topics they chose include "plastic bags are bad for the environment" and "seriously, plastic bags are bad for the environment" and I, you know, did what the professor asked and picked a topic that people actually disagree on but made the mistake of having an opinion that doesn't involve keeping poor people poor and capitalizing on their exploitation, an opinion she quite obviously does not share. What a terrible sentence. Where was I going? Oh yes. Truancy. Plus that means I can get into the city earlier this weekend, Merry Christmas to me.

So, I have two friends right? Ugh, shut up, I have more than two friends. Cats = friends, right? Right. Right, so in this story there are two friends. Three if you include me. So. In this story there are three friends and two of them are mine, unless I count myself as a friend. Which I do, because obviously. One of the friends is a little older, and she's trying to have a baby. As in, like, she's trying to get pregnant, not she's been trying to give birth for an indeterminate amount of time before the start of the story. Actually you know what, this isn't really a story. It's more just a bunch of different situations next to each other. I don't know what this is. I don't know what anything is. The friend who is older and wants to grow a human in her ladypieces has been my friend for longer than the third friend (second friend? other friend? friend who hasn't been introduced into the story yet? except at the beginning when I introduced the friends?) and so she confides more things in me than the third friend. Since, as you know, I am a person with a face that people instinctively trust and love and admire and want to rub their own faces against. So I know about the baby-growing trials and tribulations but no one else really does. Okay okay, this is where third friend comes in. Third friend is eighteen (3f=18, math you guys, it's a thing) and to protect third friend's privacy I will not reveal third friend's hair color or middle name or gender. Well, so: third friend is pregnant. And just found out. And has told first friend, but not me. (Confusing, I know, considering my aforementioned trustworthy face, but you know. Mysteries of the universe and all.) So first friend wants to be pregnant, second friend I guess is me although I'm not sure when that happened, wouldn't I be third friend? What happened here?, and third friend is going to have a baby and is not sure it's something she wants. (Damn. Gave away third friend's gender.) Sounds like the plot to one of those pink-or-otherwise-brightly-colored novels written for beach consumption, no? Only it's not really much of a plot, because I have almost nothing to do with any of this and each friend has almost nothing to do with the other's situation. Unless first friend knocked up third friend, and that would be a different-colored novel I think. It's just an interesting thing to be underlying this triangle, I think. And what is more scary than interesting is that I keep wanting to blurt out "Why doesn't third friend just give her baby to first friend? SOLUTIONS." Except I know that would be inappropriate. Also, not a real solution. So. Anyway this is what my hair looks like today:

Hairspray is bad for the environment, jerks.
Also plastic bags. WHO KNEW.