I'm writing this post from my room where I have been banished for the next several years of my life because my mother is a twit and I think I might be a druggie. Except when people think of druggies I'm guessing it's more along the lines of coke-heads and people who cook crystal meth in their basements out of Nyquil or whatever, so maybe I'm just flattering myself.

It all started last week when my back started bothering me again. My buddy Nick who works out with the guys at the gym's dad is a physical therapist, so I did a few things I'm not proud of at Lauren's party last weekend (and when that didn't "work", I borrowed seventy bucks from my mom - more on that in a minute) so I could pay him to score me some cortisone. Now I just have to find some way to inject it without becoming a paraplegic which, given my recent luck, would probably happen. I would rather just take the time off, but I don't like to lose. And I usually do, except in the gym, so I can't just let it go.

So, my mom - I asked her for seventy bucks so I could get a new dress for a mixer that our gym has every year to get rich whoevers to pony up the dough so the roof doesn't collapse or whatever. Then I borrowed a dress from Lauren for the party and used the seventy bucks to get nick to score the goods instead BUT apparently Lauren's mother isn't stupid and told my mom at the mixer how cute I looked in Lauren's dress. Ooop. My mom asked where her money was and I told her it fell out of my gymbag somewhere. She proceeded to ground me for lying to her. If only she knew.