Grumble.

How to tell an eleven-year-old girl that Winnie the Pooh once a week really isn't enough to learn proper grammar...?

Not going to list down my mid-year results like some blogs are doing because they aren't very shiny things to show off. The most I'll say is that the whole enterprise is so screwy that even with a mind-boggling perfect 50% score in Econs I managed to top my class. Which is sad.

My father can make the most offensive remarks without noticing how offensive they are, and I'm not allowed to tell him. He's more like a particularly nasty boss than a father in this respect <__<

By the way, another two history essays. They never seem to end.




P.S. Public P was goooooooood.