I went to the mall with Leeann today. I was kind of pissed that Robbie didn't take me with him to the wwf thing last night, so this made me feel better. I love the mall. It's great, you can find so many different types of people there. And at our mall in particular, multitudes of hispanics and African Americans.

Have I ever told you how cool black guys are? They just make you feel good. They don't care what color your booty is, ass is ass. Some people may feel cheap when they're looked up and down by some ghetto boy in head to toe puma in front of Best Buy, but not me dammit. I feel good. Like I could go up to any guy and have him hanging on my every word. Thats the part I have yet to experiment with. The talking thing. I can pretty well stare anyone down, but the talking, i'm just chicken shit.

Practice makes perfect, right? Right...

But back to why I want to be black. They don't care how fat they are. A black woman will squeeze her ass into the tightest thing she can find. I'm not generalizing - this isn't true for everyone, and I know some white girls who do the same, but just from what I see when I go out. I kind of admire that. It shows that they have the self confidence that i somehow wasn't born with. Oh and the hair. Can we say dreds? Whoo baby. Those are cool. Alas, I am but a white girl. Driving my Cavalier with the bass on 7, playing my Ludacrice, and turning the volume down when i pull into a ghetto town. I'm not scared, just embarassed I think. I mean, it would be sort of like if a black boy liked country music and he pulled up to a car full of white boys. Do you think he would blast it or change the station? Hmmm...interesting. Well either way, I still want to be black. Just for a day or two.

I hate telling my parents every detail of my life. I hate it so much in fact, that I don't do it. Today, however I had to mention that Leeann invited me to stay at a cabin for a couple days during spring break with a few people. Oh, say, ten. My ass, she'll never let me go. It was worth a shot, she has a while to think about it and break the idea to my dad.

Although it might be better if I don't go.

Ryan: "Hey."

Jill: "Hey. Remember that time we..."

Ryan: "Yeah, I remember. Goodtimes."

Jill: "Too bad we can't do that now."

Ryan: "Yeah."

Jill: "Yeah. Damn."

See what I mean? Disaster waiting to happen, since we'll probably be staying in the same room. Bed. You know, whatever.

Well I'll dish out more info about this "trip" as i get it. For now I must go to sleep and dream of marrying Matt Damon. Goodnight.

later

Love,

Jill