Adam is forcing me to write this stupid blog, and my nose is red. Not at all related, but deal. Apparently my taste in music is about to be “improved.” I’m tired, and coffee has ceased to work, which is tragic, because now I have nothing to live for and , in the immortal words of Luke Chilson, I am going to “fail my life.” My clothes don’t match, except for my t-shirt, which apparently matches Adam’s, which isn’t true, and Alan looks like the American flag, so what the frolic does he know. He’s just mad because no one matches him, because most people under the age of 60 are happy to dress accordingly. It’s going to rain, and I refuse to wear a Disney poncho. Adam and Ashley are fighting like cheerleaders, flailing arms and everything. They also say ass a lot, and Adam is controlling. First he wants me to write a blog, then he wants the computer whenever he’s in the mood to be brilliant. Apparently everything is on his terms, which is going to work for me well. “Diana is beautiful and wonderful.”–Adam. Adam is under the influence of some unknown substance and doesn’t know what he is saying. He tried to help write my blog and clearly is the opposite of helpful.