Damn, I forgot all about this thing. If Bebe hadn't found it while we were cleaning out my closet, I'd have probably never seen it again. Bebe says I come across as a manic depressive when reading it - I've got to admit she has a point.
So. Managed to pass all my classes, between Bebe tutoring me in english, Mole tutoring me in French, and Clyde letting me study all his history notes before the final. Speaking of Clyde, he finally told me what everyone already knew. I panicked and told him I was dating Mole. In retrospect, I probably should have said I was dating Bebe.
Craig finally stopped harassing me - now he's trying to get Bebe to star in some soft core porn. Kyle and Red finally got it on, which you would think would push Stan out of the picture at least a little bit, but he's as attached to Kyle's hip as ever. Gary's as painfully happy as can be and let me know that, whenever I'm ready to join the church, he's there for me. Ugh, I can't put up with the angels' knock-knock jokes and groping. Cartman and Wendy have broken up and gotten back together a dozen times or so. Token is raising chickens for a cock fight in Tweek's backyard, so Tweek is pulling out his hair again. Jason/Dante gave up hitting on Tweek and I've seen with around with Clyde. Little sister gave up her obsession with "Bethannie," as she's now dating Porschea. What else... Damien finally forgave me, so I have to put up with him again. I've seen Kevin around. It's... nice. Still weird, but getting better.
And Bebe's still a prude and Mole's still asexual, and I tell you, I always figured my first threesome would involve more sex. Or any. And they'd be two Filipina chicks in nothing but hats, and it would take place on a... jet, and when we touched down I'd exit the jet to meet a throng of chicks which would proceed to fling panties at me...
What. If you're going to fantasize, might as well make it good.
Re-painted my room. I decided it's the best blank canvas I can hope for, so why not? For a while I had a detailed painting of a turtle getting it from behind from a tiger. Neither Bebe nor Mole appreciated the genius behind this.
That's actually what we're doing today, repainting the room again. Bebe and Mole came over to help move furniture and paint on the white coat. Bebe wouldn't take off her shirt, even after I offered to make her more comfortable by having myself and Mole take off ours. Still a prude. But a prude that makes fantastic omelets.
It was while moving crap out of my closet that Bebe unearthed the journal. There's hardly any room left - I'm on the back of the last page, here. I decided to flip through it while we wait for the first coat to dry.
And now Mole's telling me I'm not going to get away with making him move all the furniture himself just because I might "die of a particularly vindictive splinter" (I thought it was very good excuse, if I don't say so myself) and I have to get off my ass and help him. I'm almost out of paper, anyway.
I'll end with what Bebe said after she flipped through it (with permission, of course. She's less nosy than she used to be, and I'm less vehement about keeping her out - I never imagined getting along with Bebe The Prude Stevens, but now I can't really imagine not getting along with her.):
" 'What the hell can you construct with paper that won't get destroyed?' Jesus, Kenny, that one's easy. Words."
What an utterly gay and chick-like thing to say.
Yeah, yeah, Mole, I'm coming. Jesus, it's just a mattress. What a whiner.