Today Warren Miller lit a painting of his (recently ex) girlfriend on fire outside Ms. Dukes room during fifth period and almost burned down the school. It was awesome.
Imagine: Warren Miller in denim cut offs and that ratty red flannel without the sleeves, cigarette poking out of his mouth, dropping matches onto his surprisingly life-like painting of Delia Jung’s face.
He’s suspended now.
I’m also suspended now. Apparently lighting matches and chanting light it up light it up is a suspend-able offense.
Madelyn was happy to remind me of all the consequences of having suspension on my record (oh no, what will colleges think lmao) — but tbh I’m just relieved I get to sleep in for the next three days.
Anyways, this whole story is just to say that my mom sent me to therapy today. She must have called up friends at the hospital to get me in as a favor or something. Emergency therapy for her arsonist delinquent daughter.
The therapist was like thirty five ish probably and like super hot and stylish with her glasses and her notebook and her pencil skirt. She took one look at me and said “you seem bored,” to which I was like
And then she basically told me to get a hobby. Like I’m a 45 year old father of three. Like thanks for your professional advice.
So then three hours later I’m about a third of the way through a box of donuts, watching X-Files re-runs on Hulu, when Madelyn calls and wants to know what I talked about in therapy.
Nosy, yes, but that’s Maddie.
So I told her all about my hot therapist and how she recommended I get a hobby, thinking, like an idiot, that we would laugh at oblivious, well-meaning adults and then we’d carry on to whatever drama happened at school after I was sent home.
I should have known better. Maddie has about a thousand hobbies and they’ll all look amazing on her college transcripts. If she had it her way I’d become like deeply invested in photo journalism or idk writing music or something. I could practically hear her fantasizing about watching me perform at open mics.
So I decided to start a stupid blog.
The way I figure it, I’m technically following instructions — alone, in my bedroom, where no one can bother me. Plus, the likelihood of anyone reading this is like basically nil. Nobody reads blogs unless they’re lost looking for where the lasagna recipe starts.
So there mom and Maddie and hot therapist — I have a hobby. I’m a blogger now. So hip. I can feel myself morphing into a minimalist diy vegan lifestyle blogger already. I’ll be promoting $300 crystal water bottles before you know it.
Idk how to end a blog
Xoxo lmao