The Manly-Man Journal of Joe Lucas - Part Five.
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August 12th, Wednesday.
Kitchen, Lucas Residence, 7.00am.
MMJ,
I did come close to strangling Frankie and then Joe and Nick had to restrain me from doing anything rash. Not that I would have done anything drastic but I was working up to give Frankie a good fright. There are some things little brothers need to learn to not touch upon. And one of them is manly-man journals of older brothers. Anyways the fact that Nick and Kevin had to restrain me scared the beejuzus out of Frankie and he has been put on candy probation, lost his TV privileges and was grounded for a week. That was all Mom though, not me. Me, I just ranted and raved.
Once she heard the reason for which I was mad, she was mad that Frankie hadn't respected one of the rules of the house, don't mess with your brother's things. I mean Nick and Kevin mess around with my hair goo and she blows up and is fine with that but she said that this was going too far.
Come to think of it, even I wouldn't have usually blown up the way I did. It's just that, that day I really had a crap-tacular day, you know with Macy and all and I kind of went on Mecha Godzilla rage rampage.
And while the anger has waned, sadly the shitty feeling has not.
I mean, it's been three days since the incident and I have made sure that Macy doesn't have to see my perverted face. I can't look at her without blushing in shame…and thinking ahem, a few other things which my treacherous hormones think.
Just so y'know. I'm er… keeping the stuff G-rated. Can't have someone hijack my journal again and read out that I've been having dreams involving Macy, leather and a whip.
Which was friggen awesome by the way. And I really can't feel that guilty over it because I know for sure we have no control over dreams. And it's also a good thing because I don't need to confess this to the priest.
Last time at confession I told him about what happened and he just about had a conniption. Throw in kinky sex dreams and he just might explode with the outrageousness and blasphemy of it all.
And the worst part of all, I didn't even get to ask her to help me for the baseball game. Our team lost spectacularly to this team called Mackenzie Random from Hollywood Studios(I know, weird name right?) whose captain was this tiny little girl, who was uber scary.
And the worst part was, they were the least bit interested in the game and they still won! I mean they had this couple, who was too much in love with each other to even think of the game, this blonde hot chick who refused to play and two Laurel and Hardy types who kept tripping over each other's feet. I mean they were so much more worse than us and they won. We were just all over the place but we were not that bad.
Nick would like to gripe that it because if my incompetence that we lost the game, but I would beg to differ. I was under considerable emotional distress during that point due to the Macy debacle and all and since my emotions were in a constant state of flux, I couldn't be held responsible for my non-functioning self.
Don't I sound all scientist-y? I like it. Maybe Macy will like it too. That is if I can ever pick up the guts to speak to her again. Which somehow I don't think is happening for a long time.
Got to go, Mom's making blue-berry pancakes with whipped cream and I want to eat.
Cause despite all the tragedy and stuff, I'm still a teenage boy and food is at the top of all priorities, even above Dove's hair volumizing shampoo for straight hair and Axe's Dark Temptation Cologne.
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Janitor's Closet, Horace Mantis Academy, 9.00 am.
MMJ,
Blueberry pancakes do a tummy good and they kinda heal the soul too. You may ask why I'm hiding in a closet or since you are inanimate and all, and later on my grown up self might want to ask why I'm in a janitor's closet, so I'm just going to say that I was conducting a survey of Janitor's closets and their cleaning supplies, just so that I don't have to sound pathetic and say it's because I'm avoiding Macy.
But maybe my grown-up self, still being me will already know that. So it's a futile attempt.
Wow, all this future stuff is the kind that causes a headache.
Any ways the point is that, I'm a wimp and I'm not man enough to face up to Macy and apologize and move on. The thing is, I don't think I can move on. This is one of those events which definitely changed the course of stuff in my life. It may not show it, but see, I don't think I'll ever think of Macy the same again.
I mean, I did like her before but now, if she says, it's okay, we can still be friends, I don't think that is going to work for me.
I can't do that. Because do that would be like ripping my balls out and stomping on them.
Gross imagery but it sure does get the point across.
See, things won't go back to the way they were, and there will always be this awkwardness, cause I'd be all, gee, I'm friends with a girl who I constantly think of in a not so friendly way. What a wonderful friend I am.
Real life is not all roses and whatever goes along with that saying.
The point being, I'd rather have nothing at all than have some awkward friendship where she doesn't want to sit around me and where I'm desperately trying not to letch and keep it PG-13.
Friendships are not based on foundations as shitty at that. And I definitely believe that Macy is worth so much more than some half-assed attempt of friendship on my part to disguise my morally scandalous intentions.
It really sucks being a purity ring wearing, teenage boy band playing teen sometimes.
And also, it sucks being a religious person.
Not that I hate ya and all G, but seriously, confessing that I fantasize about a girl to you, while you look upon me with a benevolent – and disapproving gaze too- is not the most uplifting of things.
Sigh.
I gotta go before Mr. Mulliner rides my behind for being late for Geometry. Again.
La-
Oh crap Macy's here glaring at me.
Dear person who finds this very manly-man journal of Joe Lucas,
If I don't make it out alive, I just want to say, I love you Mom, Dad, Kevin, Nick, Frankie. Stella, my best bud, I love you too. Macy Misa, I love you but not in the platonic kind of way but in the way that, I want to write love songs and all that nonsense about. So basically I totally love you in the romantic way.
I would like all my personal assets distributed between my brothers and I would like Macy to have my purity ring.
That's all, goodbye world. I go to meet my doom at the hands of the girl I love.
If this were a movie, I'd so be in the running for an Oscar. Or at least I'd do better than that Twilight dude who sparkles.
Bye.
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Notes to Self. ( if self is still alive that is)
Make a will.
Finish algebra worksheet.
Clean room.
Make a donation to favorite charity of choice to thank the Lord for keeping me alive.
(Dude if you do, I swear I'll be good. The best ever.)
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Little lame but it was necessary and I hope it was not bad. Once again, no offence to any religion as such, I'm just using it as a plot device.