#BLOGMAS DAY 15 - My Island

I'm getting the feeling that my classmates have a tendency to attract full-on stalkers. First the "complete romance package" - guy, now some Insta-messenger from Miami who really has a screw loose (that's a new saying I found. Look it up). People are leaving marketing class to call the police and I'm just trying to mind my rep exam over here.

Now another prof is comparing the self-evaluation forms we had to do a while ago to Stasi methods. That's a bit harsh. "But I don't want to talk about it anymore", he trompetes and goes on about it for another twenty minutes. "On my island, there's fun" (referring to some team building concept he's in love with). Well on my island, no one is talking about team building.

I'm a bit confused about my plans for New Year's Eve. See, my certain someone had implied that his plans involve me being there, too, and then suddenly leaned toward spending the day in Paris with his family, making me get irritated (as you might remember from Day 13) because what I took from it was that I didn't have any plans anymore. And as you know, having absolutely no plans on New Year's Eve is the party equivalent to having a life crisis. Now you're asking yourself, how dare he bring me into this disastrous situation, but I think the male mind just doesn't always draw all the wide-spread conclusions there are to draw from his decisions. So I decided to matter-of-factly bring to his attention that I was displeased by that circumstance and phrasing that message took me half a day and a night and I ended up cutting it down to three sentences that didn't transport any information at all apart from "I was *sniff* really looking forward *sniff* to spending the day with you". It's terrible - don't ever send anything after eight hours of loathing. It's all good now, he asked me to either go to Paris with him or stick to our originals plans (my loveliest friend says I should force him to make us go to France because it would be a pretty darn chic place to be), and I said that both would be fine with me (with the slightly stalkerish undertone of Every Step You Take).

Problem is, he hasn't exactly told me what country it officially is now. Either the undertone wasn't so slight after all or he hasn't decided yet or something happened to his phone during the 16 minutes it took me to reply. I'll keep you updated. As long as I know when to pack, I'm fine.

God, I hate the whole texting business. I would misread my own messages if I got them.

Oh by the way, I ordered this luscious dress in deep red velvet and I can't wait till it arrives - there's a chance I'll be chanting "Santy Baby" in the dining room on Christmas Eve in it, it just asks for a stage.

Love,

Rosy Smith