Thursday, September 31

Read in a magazine that writing in a journal daily is somehow related to relieving stress and therefore, prevents unsightly bags under eyes. I figure its worth a shot if I dont wish to look like Minerva in twenty years....




Friday, October 1

Try once again to sleep standing up during Magical Creatures to no avail. Instead, settle for crossing my arms over my chest and mentally reorganizing sock drawer while giving death glares to any fool who dares to look my way, no matter how incredibly attractive I am.

Sit next to Pansy during lunch and listen to her brag about her new robes. In the nicest way possible, I point out the fact that she should start buying robes a size bigger or at least reconsider eating that piece of pumpkin pie.

When passing courtyard, am rudely interrupted by a first year is who obviously just far too excited to get a chance to talk to me that she stutters when begging for my assistance. Leads me outside and points to a small circle of people surrounding what appears to be two pigs in robes having a nice mudbath. On closer inspection, realize they are in fact two third-years who have decided to swing fists at each other. Push midget-like boy out of the way and demand to know what is going on. Apparently, some Slytherin decided to call a high and mighty Gryffindor a mudblood. In response, Gryffindor abandoned his wand and continued to fight other boy.

After getting good glimpse at the two hideous creatures rolling in the grass punching each other like degenerates in a pub after last call, sigh dramatically and decide to walk away. Am stopped by same girl, who I realize really does have a stuttering problem. She reminds me that I'm a prefect as I restrain myself from pointing out that I really don't care. Short Little Fat Girl From Hell finally convinces me that it is my responsibilty to do something.

Realizing that no professors, no prefects, or even anyone that has gone through puberty for that matter, were present, I decide to stop this silly little romp in the grass. For a lack of anything more clever to do, I ask boys to stop. They ignore me. Remembering Nick, an ex from Hufflepuff, use Ropeous Spell (also commonly referred to as a necessity in any lustful slight-bondage session) to tie two boys up until I can find someone else to do my dirtywork and drag the buggers up to Dumbledore's office. Shortly thereafter, am reminded that Ropeous Spell is easily broken as the two untangle themselves from the invisible ropes and go at it like barbarians. Potter appears a few feet behind me. Totally refusing to witness another one of Potter's swishes of the wand followed by a standing auvation, I turn on my heel and leave.

After reaching the loo, notice that my usual classmates have already regergetated most of their lunch in attempts to lose that extra kilo, and decide that I must be late. Not wanting to be rushed, casually walk towards dungeons, stopping briefly to flutter my eyelashes at cute male passer-by. Obviously not capable of handling a woman of my stature, he calmly informs me that he is visiting his son and is happily married.

Get to Potions and walk in while trying to ignore whimpers of lust coming from majority of male (and female) population as I walk by and take my seat. Am informed that I am forty five minutes late by irritated professor Snape. I tell him I was only late beacuse I was forced to do my responsibilites as a prefect and stop a fight in the courtyard. Snape sharply responds by saying that he is aware of the fight I was referring to and that it had been taken care of thirty minutes prior to my entrancce to the classroom. While trying to keep my cool, I remind myself that jacking off into a sock for twenty-odd years would put anyone in a foul mood, but thoughts are interrupted with a request to attend detention promptly after dinner.

Once class is over, I try to act sincere and decline Snape's invitation to get a glimpse of my knickers as I clean his shelves and leave before he is able to respond.

Attend dinner. Poke at food and ritually whine about how fat I must be getting so ass-kissing fourth-year across the table can remind me how attractive I really am.

Still feeling slightly deflated, goto dorm and decide to sleep. To my outrage, am not met by silent room, but by no less than fourteen giggly girls oogling over an obese hairball that my equally as unnactractive dorm-mate claims to be her new pet, "Jiggles". Remove package containing a dozen of Mother's latest attempts at "health conscious" dessert balls from bedside table and in no uncertain terms, threaten to shove them down each and everyone of the girls' throats if they do not leave me in peace. Girls promptly remove themselves from the seventh year girl's dorm, leaving me and Jiggles in silence until the rodent screeches and cries. Deciding it must be hungry and feeling far too lazy to dispose of them properly, I feed unpleasently smelling desserts to the hairball and goto sleep.