*sigh* The school TV's got cable. I was watching Star Search and I even got on-line and voted. Perhaps so I could feel like my opinion actually counted for something... Apparantly not. The guy I voted for didn't even win. He got last place, actually. Leave it to me to vote for the under-dog.

Ugh. I can feel my gut churning up the burger and fries I had for dinner just now. Or rather, lunch. I don't eat dinner 'til 2 AM. I'm nocturnal, you see. Breakfast at 1:30 PM, lunch at 6:30, dinner at two. I never sleep earlier that 4 AM.

Last night I slept on the floor in my sister's room. My closet has become infested with fleas from Jordan. That's all the little guy left behind... He's been missing for three days today. I miss him, but I still fumigated my closet. Don't want bed-bugs. Mom invited me to sleep in her room, but I declined. I actually napped in my insecticide-fogged closet for about an hour before I woke up feeling feverish. I think I was getting either high or sick from all the flea-killing spray on my things. Maybe both. But I knew I couldn't linger in there. So I grabbed some blankets from the closet in the hall (now why didn't I sleep there?) and lay them out in my sister's room. Weirdo glared at me from underneath her night table. I smiled at him and told him mentally to fuck off. I love my iguana! Then I finally went to sleep at 5 AM.

Phone blares to life around six. I rush all the way to the living room to answer.

"Hey, Piojo - soy yo!" DUD!!!

"Ya se," I answer, my voice muffled by sleep. But I manage a "Hey, Dud!"

"Hey, what time is it over there?"

"Uh..." I squint through the dim light of dawn filtering from the windows in the dining room to look. 6:29. "Six thirty."

"Donde esta Mami?"

"She's still asleep..."

"Aw, I feel so bad I didn't call her yesterday!"

"No te preocupes. We understand."

"Ve levantala! Quiero decirle 'Happy Birthday'!"

So there I go through the hall and to mom's room. The door is closed. Damn. I open it noisily and mom stirrs. On the phone, Dud's repeating from afar: "Wake her up! Wake her up!"

"Ok, OK! Ya voy!"

Mom blinks at me expectantly. "Es Dud," I mumble, and jab the phone at her. Then I sit on the bed. I listen as my mom gives off the usual joyful exclamation and then begins to chatter. Jesus, it's like she wasn't even asleep!

But the conversation is cut short. The connection from Kuwait fails. We sigh. Oh well, she'll call right back. But the minutes tick by and the phone lies lifeless on my mom's night table. I hear the cell phone beep feebly from the dining room. I crawl over. It was Dud, but the connection has cut off once more before I reach the table. "1 Missed Call" Oh, fuck you, phone! I take it with me back to Dud's room and mom holds on to the white cordless. Neither ever ring again. Bummer. Poor Dud.

Drift off back to an uncomfortable slumber. Mom wakes me up at 2:30. Damn, almost time to drop her off at work! Now here I am, still waiting, but don't know what for. Don't know what I'm waiting for, or why I'm waiting for it. All I know is this: my stomach hurts. Still.