"He'll sit there and go, Dipsy... Po... Dipsy... Po. I honestly don't think he knows colors. Just Teletubbies."


Bows in my Hair

Right now I am in a happy mood, because I have lurvely Christmas bows in my hair that were on the wrapping to the fabulous gift Van Chelsing gave me (a French phrase-a-day calendar, which she really wanted to open but it was wrapped in plastic), and I got a 93 on my ICP test. A 93! I am amazed at my own brilliance sometimes.

I've already made my New Year's Resolution. I'm not the sort of person who really tries to improve herself every year, so I've decided I'm going to teach myself a language. I don't know which one, yet, but I'm sure I'll be able to pick one. I'm not completely indecisive.

Today actually started out horribly, looking back. The stupid boat came under the bridge, so the stupid drawbridge was up, and so I was stupidly a few minutes late for French. Instead of stopping at my locker first, I went straight into the room, where I discovered what used to be my desk had exploded, i.e., the table part of it had come completely off. Don't ask me how this happened, and instead of asking, I just had a minor spasm.

Me: I hate public transportation! I hate drawbridges and I hate boats and I especially hate the idiot sophomores who took it upon themselves to shout the most idiotic things ever while the drawbridge was delaying us all!
Madame: No, tell us how you really feel.

During French, we sat in a circle and read out loud from the book. This was hilarious because the heater was growling at Maggie. Then Duct Tape and I wrote an evilly mean dialogue, and Pencil Case and Madame and I read Pencil Case's blog and talked about how it is full of lies and how pet mice are different than regular mice. I have never heard of people having pet mice, but Mr. Brooker says his children did, so we will just go along with that.

At lunch, I desperately needed to find Pencil Case and tell him something I forgot by the next time I saw him. I figured a good place to look for him would be the French room, so I went in there and asked Madame if she had seen him.

Me: Have you seen Pencil Case?
Madame: No. Did you lose him? I don't think you lost him, I think he's still here.
Me: I had to tell him something.
Madame: Oh, okay. Well, when you find him, tell him I have more extra credit for him.

On my way to gym, I saw Madame again. She told me she saw Pencil Case and told him, "Your wife is looking for you." I said, sarcastically as usual, "Thanks, Madame."

I finally saw Pencil Case during gym, when I forgot what I had meant to say, and he told me all about how he saw Madame in the hallway and she told him, "Your wife is looking for you. She said (Pencil Case said she said this in a very falsetto voice), 'Where is Pencil Case? I need to see him!'. I swear that is what she said! And, get this, she had red and green bows in her hair."

Maggie: Wow. Madame is like Santa Claus. Except, you know, prettier, younger, and thinner.

Chelsea: My god! That's, like, Super Child Brain.

Well, I'm off to actually use this study hall for what it was meant, i.e., doing homework. This way, I can go home and wrap my presents and go to see Van Chelsing in the Christmas play tonight instead of sitting at home, doing homework and laughing at how horrible Listen Up and the rest of CBS's Monday lineup is with La Mere.


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