8:45 pm

oh, Shoot.

I'm getting better.

I was kind of hoping I would stay sick long enough to get out of my first ski race. Well, looks like the antibiotics that the Dr. prescribed have done the job a little too well.

Stupid antibiotics.

OK-- I hate competition. I mean, I was only flogged into a competitive spirit with Ella because of her lameosity.

I don't want to compete with the entire state of California!! I don't have anything against any of them.

Well, I mean, if Ugly Pants boy were racing, or maybe Britney Spears..

that's it. I'll pretend that all the other racers are Britney Spears. Ooooh, I'm visualizing it-- passing Britney on the uphill stretch, cutting Britney off on a downhill run, skirting a pile of Britneys who've wiped out...

this visualization thing really works. I didn't believe it, because, to be frank, I'm a little skeptical of anything my ski coach says at this point. He likes Gu health suppliment, for instance. I took a gulp of one of those things the other day and nearly gagged-- like eating chocolate flavored mucus.

I bet that's why I got sick-- I bet it really IS mucus. Real people's mucus, with artificial flavoring added...

OK, stop. I'm about to hurl.

Anyway, I think that it's indecent that I have to get up at 5:30 tomorrow to catch the bus. I mean, why? I guess the universe is against my catching an extra day of sleeping in.

I'd better visualize myself to sleep.

Ooohhh... flashing past Britney on the takeoff, nailing Britney with my ski pole, running over Britney after she faceplants in the middle of the track--

all right, this is getting out of hand. See what happens when I try to be competitive? I turn into a monster. A MONSTER. I'm just going to have to tell my ski coach that I'm morally against racing.