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


Me Small Child

So, moment of silence. Today was my last day in the Evil History Class. Moment over. Tomorrow, I get to go to Cool History Class with Chellie. The only things I'm going to miss about the EHC are these: conversation days, sitting in front of Bet, my lone class with Larry, being in class with Bet, Larry, Chelsey, and Ariel.

This just in: French fries are "not a lunch." Also, if you insist that you are fine with just your French fries, certain individuals will give you standard grandma-guilt about it.

Madame: She is so British. She is like the Supernanny!

Confession: I love Supernanny. In fact, I often go around saying, "That was very naughty!" in a British accent for no good reason.

I forgot to mention that I humiliated myself on Saturday. Chelsea and I were having a good little conversation with Mr. Brooker, who has not actually discovered our blogs and does not read the bloglisting. Yet. Now that we told them they exist, he will probably go find them. Chels and I were discussing this today, and we realized that Mr. Brooker basically gets paid to chastize people, expell people, and read blogs, which means that I would kick ass at that job. (See, this is what we get done in English class when Poppa G takes us to the computer lab. Also, Mr. Brooker, if you are reading this, I do think there is more to your job. Like telling people to take off their North Face fleeces.)

Today in art, we lit hair on fire. Note that we were not actually supposed to be lighting hair on fire, but, for the record, it was Pencil Case's idea. Like writing my name on one of the eggs for no good reason.


"My god, Mother! You sound like a Jewish woman in a synagogue."

Wow, I love my aunt Kathy, who supplied the quote above. I think that family members are so much better when you only see them every once in a while, when you don't have to deal with them all the time. In fact, I think I'm going to move somewhere far, far away for college, so that I really learn to appreciate my parents and my brother. That was the thought I had in the car on the way to the curling club to watch Seameister and Fio, at least, while Ricky was being an obnoxious jerk and we somehow lost He Was a Good Man, which led to stress and elongated sighs from Saint Julia.

Then La Mère and I had some fabulous retail therapy. I dropped off my disposable cameras, which are so old that they have pictures from GRADUATION on them, and I bought a nice little zip-up hoodie in a lovely celery shade. La Mère bought the most adorable outfit I have ever seen, so I'm making her wear it to the Honors Banquet to impress everyone. They will all be like, "Hey, who is that highly well-dressed woman?! She must be in charge of something important!" and I am not just saying that because I found this extraordinarily lovely outfit.

Last night was closing night of the musical. This was highly, highly depressing. Margo and KT were there, though, which was excitement, and I was rewarded with lots of hugs, including one from, surprisingly enough, Paul. This was after I said, "Good job, yuppie, even though I hate you."

Then we had Strike, which I only stayed for about an hour of but was still a lot of fun. Mags, Chels, and I found the dead mouse in the washer, which really did not live up to the hype at all. Then Chelsea, Mike, Bitchmonster, and a few other people were sent to the costume room to drop a few things off. On the way up, Mike discovered one of the infamous famous secret tunnels and got extremely over-excited. "Look! There's a cart in here! Imagine how fast you could fly in that thing!" but Bitchmonster wouldn't let us go. Then we went back up and discovered that the doors were locked, so Mike yelled, "The tunnel! It's the only way out!" but we actually just had to walk down the other hallway, unfortunately. Anyway, then Emily needed a moment with her coffee pot, Aline was infatuated with the dinosaur, Josh declared that this one baby doll had a missing chromosome, and then it was time for me to go, which was good because Strike actually lasted until 3:45. Thank God for being an usher and being able to bail out.

Oh, and somewhere in there, Vicky declared me the queen of Grobania and Josh Groban's number one fan. This is because she was wearing a Josh Groban T-shirt and I said, "Oh, god, are you involved with that whole Grobania thing?" and she said, "No, but that's actually a real thing. I suppose you know. You're probably, like, Josh Groban's number one fan." Which is funny because I do not even own a Josh Groban CD.

I am pretty sure I got some of the funniest pictures ever at the musical on Friday. They are all of my peeps, so I'm very excited to get them back and decorate my locker with lovely snapshots. But I won't get them back until practically forever because La Mère has some big personal grudge against One-Hour Photo. I think it would be fun(ny) to work in a One-Hour Photo, or just regular photo, center. You could laugh at people's dorky pictures and probably see a lot of people you know. Anyway, I'm going to wrap up this highly quick wrap-up of the events of the last few days and go take a shower and not watch the Oscars, which are full of Beyonce's melisma and boring me to tears.



Me: Hey, Frau. I heard a rumor that you do a killer rendition of the Menards jingle.
Frau: Oh, who did you hear that lovely rumor from?
Me: Who do you think? Madame, she says you have a beautiful singing voice.
Frau: Oh, well, it's not actually the Menards jingle, it's "Happy Birthday." It's because she's foreign. She always says that, when she doesn't understand something, "I'm too foreign", or "Is it because I'm foreign?"

Me: I hope Brooker enjoys this entry.
Chelsea: What?! Brooker reads our blogs?!
Me: Yes. But probably not yours. He probably gets all impatient waiting for it to load, since it takes four hours, so he probably just says, "Ugh, this shit takes forever to load!" and closes the window.

So, tonight is ushering for the musical, again. I'm so excited. Seriously, ushering gives you special priveledges, like sitting so close to the stage that Adult Josh spits fake caviar two inches away from your foot.

Today in the lunch line, Liz reminded me, unwittingly, of all our ridiculous SMS slang terms from the eighth grade. Goodness, Larry and I had fun reminiscing about that in my second-to-last seventh-hour history class. Thank god that experience is almost over.

I have done nothing but eat since the minute I got into the door. In fact, right now, I'm too busy eating to tell you about my day, because it really wasn't that interesting. Tonight, though, that will be a whole 'nother tale.


Satan-Possessed Tetanus Locker

Locker 687 is evil and demon possessed. Now, the handle has randomly been all wonky and snappish with me for about three weeks. I thought nothing of it, until it bit me. Yes, my locker handle bit me, and it ripped quite a bit of skin, leading me to another Bob the Builder bandage, tetanus or something, and a new nickname of The Bleeder.

Yes, I am The Bleeder. That is like being called The Ultimate Hemophiliac. Except, if I'm not mistaken, females only carry the hemophilia gene and bestow the disease upon their male children. Also, if I were actually a hemophiliac, I wouldn't bite my cuticles and I would make more of an effort to be coordinated, since even a bruise could send me to my deathbed. Oh, god. I'd be the deadest hemophiliac ever. And, yes, there are degrees of deadness.

Lessons Learned Today in French
1. Chelsea talks a lot, but not when she's "not here."
2. 80s music is bad. People only enjoy it because it reminds them of their childhoods.
3. Frau has a really lovely voice. She does excellent "commercial songs" (known to the rest of the nation as "jingles"), particularly the Menards jingle. Madame, however, cannot sing and her daughter often asks her less-than-politely to stop.
4. Gay men do not wear the Seinfeld puffy shirt.

So, I will probably be in the other history class by Monday! This is very exciting news! Plus, they are learning about WWI, which caused me to totally dork out, as I am often prone to do. I was singing a song on the bus today, despite my lack of singing talent, and it went like this: "I am having a good day! Because I'm going to be in a good history class! And we're learning about World War I! And I love World War I! Because Archduke Franz Ferdinand was a cool dude!" Ask Betty.

Today I wore a skirt for the first time in the year. I also wore it with my hot boots, which Erik loves dearly but says are very Madame-like. Erik is the best; I wish he was in our French class. Anyway, my hot boots/skirt combo lent me a lot of attention I do not usually recieve, so I had to worry that I looked like a hooker. This meant I would have to consult Chelsea for a good hooker tagline. Thankfully, the ensemble was not hookery.

Last night, Chelsea confused auctions with bingo. Get your old people activities straight, woman.


Maggie is an Old Man

So, my dog, Big Rita, had to go to the emergency vet last night. She has some sort of muscle breakdown in her shoulder, so we took her, and she had a bunch of x-rays, and now she's all whacked-out on muscle relaxants.

Last night, Maggie randomly IMed me, declaring, "I am an old man." That made me laugh for a very long time. Now she is cluthing a Minion of Sin to her chest and giggling maniacally.

So, after sending me on eight million trips up to the classroom, there was no time for me to type things and Madame just had me check her grammar and asked me a question about double prepositions.

In other grammar-related news, I am going to marry the subjunctive and have its babies. That conversation went something like this:
Erik: Seriously, people mess up the subjunctive all the time.
Me: I love the subjunctive! I am going to marry it and have little subjunctive babies.
Erik: I can only imagine what those babies will be named.

During lunch, it was "mix it up" day. Maggie and I actually had to attend lunch for reasons unbeknownst to us, so we mixed it up with Betty and Caitlin and sat by Emily, Kara, and Sarah, the coolest seniors. Kara is going to marry Josh Groban, and Emily assigned me with the job of making sure Paul does not sexually assault Maggie while she is away at college. Then Maggie made inappropriate comments and she and I got all addicted to animal cookies. No, not animal crackers, they said "Mrs. Pure's Funsnax Animal Cookies" on the label.

During math, IdiotRichard decided he would not shut up and therefore, we got a really large assignment. Thank you, IdiotRichard. Bet and I agreed that if we could kick one person out of our math class, it would be him.

In art, I finished my project. It is probably one of the nicer-looking things I have created. That is not necessarily a compliment, though, considering some of my previous art (see: the ridiculously hideous color wheel that looked like it was created by someone with Parkinson's.) Anyway, it was a very entertaining class, because Pencil Case told tales of wine with legs and we discovered that we both had midget rolls at Noodles and Company last night.

Oh, dinner. That was quite the event. It was basically driving around and disagreeing until we got our way and went not to Red Robin (Ricky's choice), Texas Roadhouse (La Mère's choice), but to Noodles and Company. This driving around involved La Mère being crabby, then being happy, and then calling Ricky a walrus, then freaking out because "I Like the Way you Move" was on the radio and she loves that song.

Go read a wonktastic tale of nothingness.

Anyway, I have to catch up on my slackeriffic history homework and then I'm going to go watch the DVD Crazy Aunt sent me.


"Shoulderpads make women look like linebackers." -Abigail

Today wasn't very interesting. Somehow, I managed to access Blogger during my study hall, which is kind of weirding me out.

That stereotypical 100 Things About Me thingummy.

Today on the French quiz, there was a picture of a shirt that looked exactly like the puffy (or "poofy", if you're Madame) shirt from Seinfeld. Then Pencil Case said something about phoning home.

And, according to Chelsea and Vicky's theology project, Jesus looks like the Frater and rises from a tomb of styrofoam. Personally, I think that Chelsea and Vicky should re-enact the whole Bible considering that they could just make that one scene from it so hilarious. (And possibly sacrilegious.)

I really want to have something to say, but don't.


Yes, Maggie, You Did Just Say That About a Bathroom.

Hello, Mr. Brooker. I hope you've enjoyed all the lovely tales you've read on this blog so far and that you're very proud of yourself for blocking Blogger from the school's computers and for leaping tables during lunch room brawls.

Today was not exciting. I went to French, all freaking out because Chelsea was sick again and I thought we had two quizzes, and then Madame just randomly decides we have one. Then she swears she told us this on Friday. Then we recounted the events of last night's Desperate Housewives, which was pretty well summed up by Madame: "That lady [Bree] has more important things to worry about than her son's sexual preference. She should worry about whether that old lady he ran over dies or not!" This reminded me: what the hell happened to Juanita? Really, now.

English involved more taking notes on my research paper topic of Was Poe an Alcoholic or Just a Compulsive Binge Drinker. ICP involved bitchery from various members of the Dance Team, who feel as if "the judges screwed us [them] over" at state. I had quite a few good insults for them, but chose to remain silent, then whacked Jackie with a yardstick during our reaction time experiment.

During art, I found out that Blogger is blocked from Pencil Case, and we recounted all the gossip that I learn hanging out with Madame and Maggie during lunch. Anyway, apparently Cow has evil minions. That is what I plan on calling them, too, Evil Minions. I also have another Bob the Builder bandage from lunchtime hanging-out, this time it is lime green.

During study hall, I journaled and read bits of Anna Karenina and found ways to not do homework without the assistance of Blogger. Ooh, rebellious. Not.


Fax Machine

So, that title is totally devoted to Emily. Or, moreso, Maggie and I mocking Emily's dirty-secretary-alter-ego self. Yessssss.

Friday was brilliant. I went straight from school to Mags's house, and we ate the pasta we'd craved all day and that I'd been bribed with, and cookies, and water, and other delicious delicacies. Anyway, we arrived uber-early and so Paul called me "dirty usher." Thanks, catty yuppie bitch.

Then I met up with my fellow usherfolk. Elizabeth and Iz were at my door, which is a blast. We ran into ABC and her roomate, and Iz and I almost died. I also introduced myself to Mrs. Enegy, since she knows my dad and I talked to her on the telephone at Phonathon. That conversation went a little something like this:

Me: Hi, I'm Kellinka (Lastname.)
Mrs. Enegy: Oh, that's right! Andrew's daughter! I talked to you for Phonathon!
Me: Yes, yeah.
Mrs. Enegy: He and my younger sister were really good friends, they worked together... I think they even dated for a while!
Me: [shocked silence.]

Then Emily, Bet, Pencil Case, Mags, and I piled into the Cruiser and high-tailed it home for the cast party. We changed our clothing and Pencil Case took his pancake off with baby wipes. Then others started arriving. It was a blast. It involved Schmidty and Adult Hermione being bad catholics and eating subs WITH MEAT before the stroke of midnight, the Cha-Cha Slide, the Time Warp, Erik and I losing at pool, and Paul putting Speed Stick on Schott's face as he slept.

After everyone left, and after a bit of hanging out and chatting with Emily and Mrs. R, Mags and I hauled our skinny bums downstairs and pretty much crashed. We didn't wake up until eleven, when we heard Emily giggling manically.

Mrs. R: Maggie! Kellie! Get up here!
[Five minutes later, after we finally walk up the stairs.]
Mrs. R: Grandma has a boyfriend. [We all laugh, Mrs. R talks more about the boyfriend.] She seems a lot more up, though. Even when she was talking about her hemmorhoids, she didn't seem too down. [Emily and I totally lose it.]

Then Mags, Emily, and I sat around eating "breakfast" (at noon) of cheese cubes, cookies, and Wheat Thins and recounting the events of the night. Maggie also told several of the same stories she told about eighteen hours before, when we were also sitting at the island and eating.

Anyway, the musical is very, very good. Pencil Case is sheer brilliance, and Emily (and the fax machine) is equally genius. Everyone does a really nice job, and Gina does "Stop, Time" perfectly. I'd have to say that tonight's performance went better than opening night, since the cast seemed more in their element. Plus, ushers get the special priveledge of front-row seats, which means you are so close that, well, you can see a certain someone's electric blue underpants during the high kicks in "Cross the Line"... I guess that runs in the family. I jest, partially. Very brilliant, and La Mere was highly impressed with Big Ben's beard. The best numbers are "Coffee, Black" and "Cross the Line", followed by "Stop, Time", and, of course, "Fun", with the infamous fax machine line that will never be not funny.

Also, during intermission, Chelsea and I took our flashlights on the second-floor hallway and went "ghost hunting." This involved running, and Chelsea falling over, and me sliding across the floor in my nylon stockings.

Me: Whoa. He has enormous feet. And you know what that means...
Chelsea: A big winky!
[Chelsea and I totally crack up. We're dirty.]


Abercrombie is Satan

The title is the topic that dominated roughly 15-20 minutes of our French class today. It involved the random and hilarious ramblings of Madame, specifically about how they had shirtless boys parading around Fox River Mall advertising said store. The ramble wrapped up with a very depressed, "And the half-naked guys weren't even cute."

Guy: David thinks that because he's in the musical, he has special priveleges.
David: I don't have special priveleges. I have special powers!

Chelsea and I talked for all of English again. This is what happens when Poppa G gives us work time: "Chelsea, do you make smily-exclamation points on all your assignments?" "Yes! And look! I can make a cyclops!" [Minutes of maniacal laughter follow.]

During lunch, Maggie bribed me with carbohydrates and we calculated our BMIs. It was endlessly exciting, as you can probably tell. I tried to call La Mere, but I got her voice mail-- bitch, please.

In math, we had interesting discussions about our national debt. Then Idiot declared that all those uberrich athletes deserve what they're paid because they're putting themselves out there to the media and to injury. WTF, kid, then we should all get paid $10 million a year in case we slip on ice or break a limb. And, like teachers don't put themselves out in front of negative, sports-obsessed people like you? That is the best part, because he was comparing athletes to teachers and saying the athletes deserve what they're paid. That is the most idiotic thing I've ever heard in my short, but not too sheltered as far as stupidity goes, life.

Musical and Maggie's house tonight! *Dies of excitement.*


Not Rain Man

Today started out in French, where I randomly remembered the French term for nail polish. Then we brought back the infamous celebrity pictures to discuss, en francais, what the celebrities were wearing.

Madame, pointing to Ashton Kutcher's necklaces: How would you say necklace? He has two necklaces on, he's a pretty boy!

Madame, pointing to a picture of GWB: We all know who this is, right? I just want to make sure that you kids are not politically stupid, and you don't sign up to end women's suffrage or whatever. Seriously, on this show on Comedy Central, these two guys set up a booth with a big sign that said 'End Women's Suffrage!' and a bunch of women came up to sign the petition.
Almost everyone: Um, what show was that on?
Madame: Oh, I don't remember.
Someone: You watch The Man Show?!
Madame: Well, I don't make a POINT to watch it. It was just sort of on the TV.

[We look at a picture of Kate Hudson wearing what appears to be a towel.]
Me, en francais: She is wearing a towel.
Madame: What are you talking about? Where?
Me: Well, her dress certainly looks like a towel!

Madame, talking about Justin Timberlake: He just has such a tiny head.

Anyway, we also had a jacket made of cow, a picture that looked a ton like Super Brooker, and me randomly shouting "shoulder pads!"

During lunch, Madame was looking up Bosse's in the phone book. She said the number out loud, then dialed it. Then she put the phone book away, and later, she decided to call back.

Madame: Kellinka, do you remember the phone number for Bosse's?
Me: No. I'm not Rain Man.
Madame: Oh, come on. You're pretty close!

Then I got upset (not about that, about other things) and then I was told to drink warm milk and count sheep, which made me laugh very hard. Really though, imagine, if you will, that Madame would become lactose intolerant and could no longer have warm milk. All hell would break loose.

Finally, Pencil Case came back during art. He has wonderful skills. Sadly, Barbie managed to go a whole class period without saying something stupid. At least not in my earshot.

Ugh, history. Now I can't transfer out of that class until at least next Tuesday. That was really, really frustrating. Now I have to write that stupid essay for Monday. Gosh. B-Squared should get his own tots as far as I care! (That totally relates to my minor losing-control-of-my-brain in the corridor on the way to English class, Chelsea.)

Senora G: My god! That's like feeding crack to a drug addict!


En Anglais

Frau, if you are reading this with Madame right now, as I'm sure you are, Chelsea is going to come sing you a German song about a little rose. Because I am making her.

So, we are in English, supposed to be looking up information for research papers, but Chelsea and I don't really feel like doing such, so we are talking and I'm getting a head start on my blog entry for the day.

French was so great. We learned that Madame is demanding free coffee and that her dog loves her unconditionally, more unconditionally than we would love our parents if they abandoned us every day inexplicably for ten hours.

Madame: My dog waits for the door for me for ten hours, and then he is happy to see me. Now, if your parents abandoned you unexplicably for ten hours, would you be happy when they came back? No. And then I give him treats before I go, and he won't eat them until I come back. He is the best dog in the world.
Me: Wow, that's pretty cool. My dog is crazy and pees on herself and has to see what I call a dog-shrink and what La Mere calls a behaviorist once a month.

Lunch was great today. I became Model Irregular Verb Student, and Madame gave Maggie permission to lock her sister in a room and make her teach her irregular verbs. There were also random five-minute ramblings about pens involved, and the crispies at the bottom of the French fry container, and my raging ramble about how French fries are disappointing when they actually taste like potatoes.

Counselor is such a nice lady. This afternoon was fun, with me getting mad at the ushers meeting which was not an ushers meeting at all, Pencil Case and I uncovering Hawt Gossip, and Daf tormenting Senora S.

Also, after all that GPA-punching and grade obsessing, I got my invitation to the Academic Honors Ceremony. And I don't want to go. That is just my cynical mood talking, I'm sure, but I don't want to go sit in a big convention center with a bunch of people I don't like for hours on end. And, knowing me, I won't even like whatever it is they're feeding us for free. Augh. I am obviously on drugs and not aware of it.


Bandages and Febreeze

If the title sounds pretentious, that is because it is. Today began in French class with an evil irregular verb quiz that I forgot about. Then we had to do exercises, and since I finished everything early, I had to write new irregular verbs on the board, and then sit in my desk with nothing to do. Then everyone mocked me and called me "super child brain." And according to Madame, she has me around to answer Pencil Case's dumb questions.

English was delicious as usual. In ICP, I actually understood the law of whatermajobber, and I handed in my brilliant Star Wars essay. It is so sarcastic and amusing. I will post it on her sometime later, because it is the first A+ work I have done in that class all year. If Adult Hermione just let me write things and not do calculations, I would do so well in that class. It would be super child brain redux.

For lunch, Maggie and I went to work for Madame the slave laborer, as usual. It was, of course, a barrel of laughs, with me gushing blood and Madame on hold forever and making us decide between call screening or three-way-calling.

Madame, swallowing her food and being sarcastic: This is a learning zone. Not an eating zone. (Long pause.) I'm stuck.

Then she rested her feet on her desk drawer, and they totally fell off, which caused her and Mags and I to get serious giggles. Then Madame probably got put on hold again, and then I started gooshing blood all over the place from the cuticle I ripped during theology. Don't ask me why it waited twenty minutes to explode, I guess I have low blood pressure or something. Madame gave me a kick-ass orange Bob the Builder "Hard Hat Area" bandage and then taunted Maggie with knockoff Purell.

It says "Febreeze" on the inside of my arm in order to remind myself to Febreeze the house, since there is a terrible odor I cannot pinpoint. Maybe it is the fact that I am the one girl left in the house and it's being overcome by male odors. Ew. Anyway, Pencil Case has been making politically incorrect remarks about the writing on my wrist all day.

During art...
Art Teacher: What value of orange is his shirt?
Barbie: I think it's a large!

I notified B-Squared in history today that I might be leaving his class, and he actually seemed sort of sad about it. He said, "But who will correct my spelling?" and was mildly upset. I don't know why you would get upset because someone who just reads later chapters while you're lecturing because she feels like she's not being educated is leaving your class, but whatever.

I nearly forgot to mention that Frau, the coolest person alive, saluted me in the hall today on the way to the library. That was pretty much the highlight of my day, except for my kick-ass orange (not pink) Bob the Builder band-aid.


Notre Musique

Completely stole this meme from One Child Left Behind, my new blog addiction. Yay for blog crack. It is like Pencil Case's math crack, and the heroin needles in the ball pits at DZ. Yes indeedy.

1. Total amount of music files on your computer:

Just ones I've ripped from CDs onto Poddly, so roughly 570.

2. The last CD you bought was:

The other day, I bought Hopes and Fears by Keane and Get Away from Me by Nellie McKay at B&N. There are links to the Amazon pages of both in the sidebar.

3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?

Right now, in fact, I am listening to "No Weather" by Stellastarr*. I love Stellastarr* and almost bought their CD on Friday. Then I realized, this is a 10-track CD and I have already bought four off iTunes. I am a dork.

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:

a. Across the Universe by Fiona Apple. Because I love the song to begin with, but her cover of it is amazing. Her voice is just perfectly sad. I really would, as morbid as it sounds, like this song played at my funeral.

b. On My Own from Les Misèrables because I love to sing it in the shower, and it makes me cry nearly every time I listen to it. I am afraid of becoming Eponine. I think the most horridly depressing part of the musical is that she dies, and then the students/soldiers go sing "Drink with Me." I mean, what the hell is that garbage?

c. Just a Girl by No Doubt. I loved this song the first time I heard it, when I was probably seven or eight, and I still love it now. That has to be saying something, and it's not that I had taste when I was seven or eight, because the first CD I bought was by the Backstreet Boys. It's really just saying that this song has held up very well to time and my juvenile tastes.

d. SOS by ABBA. This list had to have ABBA represented somehow. Oh god. I just love ABBA far too much. Singing to ABBA, dancing to ABBA, musicals involving ABBA, ABBA is perfection with Swedish accents.

e. Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley was the first song that ever made me cry. I know. I'm so stereotypical. That or Wise Up by Aimee Mann. Two of the saddest songs ever.

There is a new poem on my fiction blog that definitely sucks, but it's about geeks, so check it out.

Note that I am not being my Bridget Jonesy self and addressing the sucktitude of this holiday.



Last night, Betty Jean came over and we had a lovely time. This involved watching Vanity Fair, me explaining Vanity Fair to Betty, watching a large amount of CNN, and utilizing the Buzz Book to make fun of people.

Betty has the best gossip, though. Apparently, the other day during her Spanish class, the cops were over on Maryhill because some kid was busted for pot, and the whole class just got up and watched out the windows. And then yesterday, during her theology class, Toe Touches didn't know that there wasn't lunch, so he just didn't show up for class and Madame had to be their sub, along with Girly Sweater. Then Betty told a story about her mom, 911, chasing buses, red lights, and extraneous oboes. The best part is that the story is true. Anyway, then I went off on a rant about stoners, my history class that I am indefinitely transfering out of, and I called people oafs and pigs.

Then tonight was the German dinner with Stary and D. It was very, very amusing. We spoke in Swedish accents and discussed how hilariously irritating all the Big puns for the musical are, and how sometimes the morning announcements are so poorly typed that you have to translate them into English.

Drunk Man: Colors aren't real. They are an extention of light.
[Stary and I absolutely lose it and start laughing maniacally.]

Stary: But that's your grandfather's knife. That he used to kill people.
D: He didn't kill people. He butchered cows.
Stary: Geez, D. Remember? Scare the frosh!!

It is time for my daily bagel. My life is like the Our Father/Notre Père except that we have daily bagels instead of daily bread. And we aren't that holy, with the exception of The Frater.


Today, I Didn't Make Anybody Cry.

I love that the day after my mom talks to me about having low grades, the two she is worried about go up a full letter without me doing a thing. I must have Jedi Mind Powers or something, but only when I'm really, really tired.

So, today in French, I showed Madame pictures of La Mere, Das Vater, Ricky, and myself at the age of five. Anyway, I was basically the cutest thing ever at age five, for the record, and in the picture, I'm wearing a beret. I was destined to be a French dork, and I'll probably post the picture on here just so you all can understand this.

Classes are so short. 22 minutes each, and no lunch. Senora G has spent the whole day with a British accent, so we greet each other with "'Ello, poppet!" whenever we see each other in the hall. And, we are doing, in her words, "bloody ducky." Her accent is roughly 76 times better than mine, although I was going to pretend to be British at Phonathon to rake in more money.

Adult Hermione is crazy in the best way. The other day, she told us stories about lying to her children to say that Ewoks are teddy bears so they would go on the 3D Star Wars ride with her, and today she was talking about cars in ditches and how angry she got at bus drivers when her kids were little.

We had to watch the most ridiculous movie ever in art today. They were all, "Start a color appreciation journal!" and Pencil Case and I were all, [raised eyebrows.] We had to use eyebrow-speak so that I would not be chastized again. Anyway, Pencil Case, I have a secret message for you: Think pink!

Chellie gave me the best valentine card ever today. That girl has a way with sentiment. And, Van Chelsing, I stay awake at night thinking of you too.

I love that I got 3 more lip pops than any member of the Dance Team in third-hour ICP. I am too cool. Actually, no, my friends are, and I owe them each some inter-school-mail-candy, since I forgot my cash today. My friends are the loveliest people alive.


Bon Anniversaire (Again)!

Today is the birthday of everyone's favorite ass-kicking French teacher, Madame. Please warm up your vocal chords for a rousing rendition of "Bon Anniversaire." Actually, no, I know you people, and you can't sing very well, although you might believe so while singing in the shower.

This is what I did today:
1. Made Madame cry.
2. Ate an elf.
3. Had to see my counselor.
4. Decided to elaborate on numbers 1-3 so that you don't get convinced that I'm a lunatic.

I suppose we should start at the top, which is, as always, French class. Last night, I made Madame a card full of all the funny things she says, and Pencil Case, Chelsea (who was back!), Mags, and I all signed it. Anyway, Madame laughed very, very hard. Maggie and I were sitting on the heater at the time, and about a minute after the laughter ceased, she sniffled! Yep, I made Madame cry, and she insists it was from laughter.

Anyway, after a few Kleenexes, we got back to our infamous colors from yesterday. Chatouillez-moi rose was declared "a Maggie and Paul creation", which is why it requires quotes. Then Madame just started rambling about something, and there was a very long pause after this ramble, and after the pause, Maggie verbalized what everyone was thinking and said, "Madame, what are you talking about?"

During English, Chellie and I had a very long discussion about tuberculosis, and in ICP, we finished watching Star Wars.

After theology, I headed up to lunch. All I ate was one of Maggie's elf cookies, which was rather delicious if I do say so myself. See, the thing you have to understand is that "lunch" now means "hanging out in the French room with Maggie and Madame." Anyway, we didn't really get much work done. Instead, we talked about families, how I look taller than I am because I wear heeled shoes and have long legs, what our parents do as a job, massages, why Maggie should work at ToysRUs, and how my mom thinks she and Madame would be good drinking buddies. Madame wants me to show her pictures of my other family members, because she doesn't know them, so I suppose I will have to find some that have the La Mere Sign of Non-Embarassment Approval, meaning Ones Where La Mere Looks Nice.

During art, I was told, "Could you please sit down and not talk anymore?", which really just made Pencil Case and I laugh for a very, very long time while attempting to look like we weren't laughing. It was quite the daunting task.

We had conversation again in history, which made me feel smart, as always. Even better, I said smart things in front of Principal, who probably hasn't a clue who I am. Then I went to do my schedule with Counselor, who is a very kind lady. We actually just ended up talking about how I'm not good at science and about how Poppa G is the most brilliant man alive.

After school, I felt like I needed candy, so I pulled the Kate trick. For those of you who do not know the Kate trick, it goes like this, "Oh no! I'm diabetic! And my blood sugar is low! I need some candy, otherwise I'll die!"


You Look Pretty!

I hate colors. Seriously, anything that makes Madame have us go on a dictionary rampage looking up robin's egg blue, tickle me pink, and the rest of the freaking Crayola box really cannot be good. I jest, really, but still am agitated that we have to learn 56 colors that aren't in the textbooks. Do you think I have a 99 in that class from being lazy? If so, you're right. Again, I jest.

Also, during French, Mags really had to pee, which has occurred all too often since Paul hit her in the kidney. And I remembered that forged signatures from Liz aren't an adequate excuse from study hall.

Anyway, I managed to not get detention today! Not even fake detention! Pencil Case, though, managed to get real detention for explaining the eucharist to someone during church. He even gave the right answer, totally non-facetiously, but no! Still detention! That is almost as stupid as me getting a detention for forgetting a textbook, or Maggie getting two detentions for helping someone! Goodness. All this on top of Chellie being MIA!

During English, Poppa G was in a hilarious mood. "Sentences are made of words. This really isn't genius stuff I'm throwing at you here."

Then we headed off to church. Maggie, Betty, and I sat, idiotically, in front of the Jackass Row, whom I constantly have the horrible misfortune to sit in front of. There was nowhere else to sit, though, so we just plunked down, and five minutes later, Madame and Frau plunked next to us. We absorbed their awesome for a few minutes, until Madame got up to patrol the other half of the Jackass Row. Anyway, during church, our seats were kicked, Maggie's hair was fluffed, I almost fell over on my way to get my ashes, and we all had a craving for carbs that the eucharist didn't fulfill. (Oh god. It is Ash Wednesday, and I can't even stop being a bad catholic. That is what Easter is for, though.) Then I got tired of FB not shutting up, so I turned around and said, "FB. Shut up." Note that I did not get a referral, because Frau was really just amused by this. Maggie and Betty and I are friends with Frau now, by the way, something that was caused by heat exhaustion from being up in the boondocks, the Jackass Row, the sign of peace, and perhaps some other churchy things that I, as the baddest of the bad catholics, do not fully understand.

Or at least we were until she took the laptop and prevented me from my typing duties at lunch. For the 768th time, I jest. I was rather engrossed in finding cat pictures, to be honest.

On the way to theology, I heard this exchange, which cracked me up to quite a degree:
Random Kid: Hey, Super Brooker! You look pretty!
Super Brooker: And you look like you're wearing a fleece, so take it off!

During history, we got the SS/Valentine's issue of the Tritonian. I had written one as an inside joke to my Van Chelsing, but no one would ever know, because their translation of my handwriting says that my name is "Pillinka." It was supposed to read, "To VC From Kellinka: KITTY!" But, no. It reads, "To Pillinka From VC: KITTY!" Augh. It is the thought that counts. Anyway, to do a total "love notes" count, the stats go like this:

In first place, we have Napoleon Dynamite-related inside jokes, with a grand total of Every Letter in the Freaking Issue. This is followed by Madame, who recieved two letters this year. You go Madame. Bagging Pencil Case and a senior guy in French II with no name, how do you do it? I jest, really, yet again.

Wow, I crack myself up so much when I'm overtired and angel food cake lip gloss is too addictive and I want my class rank because I think there's a really, really good chance I'm in the top third, because, honestly, I just don't think our class is that smart. Sorry. I'm not jesting this time, and I'm going to leave, now, before the keyboard bursts from my crack-smokin' typist skills.


Politically Incorrect

So, today began with me not waking up and missing my bus. La Mere swears that she woke me up at ten to seven and I said, "okay, whatever!" but I have no recollection of this. I was obviously still asleep, just like The Ostrich is obviously on drugs. Anyway, La Mere nicely drove me to school rather than yelling at me, which was very nice.

After scheduling an appointment with my counselor for class registration next year and picking up my library pass, I moseyed into the French room, where we were listening to ABBA. Oh my gods. You have no idea how much I love ABBA. I would give up Ricky for ABBA. Anyway, Maggie and I were belting it out at the tops of our lungs and decided that ourselves and Chellie would have to go see Mamma Mia! on student rush when it comes to the PAC. Then Madame was dancing whilst stapling, which made Maggie and I laugh.

In ICP, we watched more Star Wars. I think Adult Hermione thinks I am a troublemaker of some sort because she always sits directly behind me. Actually, that is just where the best seat is, and it's not like there's a particular struggle to see over my head.

Theology was where all the excitement and fake-detention began. Those of us who forgot our textbooks were sent to get them and were told to report to Toe Touches's room after school for detention. I was all mad, because Toe Touches is oftentimes ridiculous, and so I had to call La Mere and tell her how stupid it was and ask her to pick me up at five, since I could just stay for Phonathon. Anyway, Pencil Case was there, and he goes, "Madame! You should talk to La Mere!" for what reason I haven't the foggiest. Anyway, I returned to my duties as a dutiful typist after that.

Anyway, I reported to my fake detention after school ended. It lasted all of, oh, ten minutes. I feel I should make some quotes from the following events, and Phonathon.

Pencil Case, holding a blue lip pop to his lips: Look! I have blue lips! I'm dying of hypothermia!
Me: Oh my gosh! The other day, I ate one of those blue candy canes, and my lips and fingers were blue into the next day!
Pencil Case, holding up his pointer finger: Did you run around like this and say, I voted!

Madame: Kellinka, go close that box.
Pencil Case, laughing: Oh my god, Kellinks, your hair looks terrible!
Me: Shut up!
Madame: Yes, Pencil Case, you should shut up. You should be doing that. She's a girl.
Me: Thank you, Madame.
Pencil Case: Why?! Is that the way they'd do it in Russia?!
Madame: Yep.
Frau: Actually, Russia is a lot like China. If you're the firstborn and you're a girl, they just bury you alive. Madame was lucky to escape.

Me, at Phonathon, calling Mr. Lemorande: Hi, is Mr. Lemonade there?

Pencil Case and I were also going to pretend to be foreign exchange students in hopes of garnering more money, but Mr. B said that wasn't legal. We also bugged Brownie for a while, and she was very nice and collage-y. In the car, La Mere was so confused about the phone call.

La Mere: So Madame wanted to talk to me?
Me: No. No. Pencil Case wanted her to talk to you. I guess he thinks the two of you together on the phone would create a big vortex of awesome.
Pencil Case: It would!
La Mere: Well, maybe Madame and I will just have to sit down and have a cocktail. I think we'd get along well.

So, Madame, there you have it, an official invitation to drink with my mom. (Please say no.)


On My Own

I would like to preface this entry by saying that I am a really, really big dork. A dork who gets stressed out and decides to have four cans of Mountain Dew to cope with the recent caffeine drought in her life. Oh, god. If anyone knows a good way to turn your brain off, let me in on it, because yoga doesn't help me.

Today in French, Pencil Case kept randomly blurting out "Happy Birthday" very tone deaf-ly. That is, until Madame said, "Pencil Case, be quiet. It isn't anyone's birthday." Then we had the dreaded irregular verb quizzes.

In ICP, we are watching Star Wars, due to the fact that we are a special class. Also, I have a sneaking suspicion, because Adult Hermione is rather stressed/tired from the musical. Anyway, Maggie and Pencil Case confessed that neither of them has seen the movie, and I told them they would be fed to Frau for their sins.

During lunch, I went to type again, since I am an ubergenius and figured out how to do superscripts. We also watched Zoolander at the same time, freak gasoline fight accidents and all.

Algebra involved me being chastized, which, of course, I deserved.

In history, I went to the bathroom, and I went the long way because I really can't stand that class. I was half-singing "On My Own" as I walked down the band/chorus/teachers' lounge/commons corridor, and thinking, "Wouldn't it be funny if I saw Schmidty right now and she told me I had- ha ha, yeah right- a nice voice?" Roughly after finishing this thought, I totally collided with her on her way out of the teachers' lounge. So freaky.

Since there was very little homework assigned, I decided to spend my study hall finishing up my typist duties. Actually, just finishing up one third of them and getting frustrated with the laptop again. I would like to note that the laptop is kept in something that vaguely resembles Pencil Case's adventure pack for his camera. Anyway, Honors French III (with the exception of the lovely Kate) decided to basically antagonize me and try to scare me, based entirely upon the fact that I am a freshman. This went on, with great amusement for them, until Madame shouted, "Be nice to my freshman!" Thanks, Madame.

Chelsea and I hung out in the Commons with Betty Jean waiting for Phonathon. Stary was on a mad recruiting spree, and I told him that Betty, who was doing her math homework, is also an SMSer. He said, "Well, then, you know if they let someone like Faith teach it, math can't possibly be important", which totally convinced Betty to come.

I feel the need to post some Phonathon quotes. It was a night complete with laughs, me being antagonized by Mr. B, 80s sunglasses, choking, and finding out that Mrs. Enegy knows my father.

Keenan: You have enough money for a phone, but you can't give some up for Jesus?!

Gina: Yes! Twenty-five! My first pledge in four years!

Mr. B, upon hearing that I don't eat pizza: Freak. I'm going to go get you some birthday cake. Then, I'll find some pickles that are infested with DDT.
Me: Wow! Birthday cake! I love being a freak!
Kathleen: Do you know anyone else who doesn't eat pizza?
Me: Um. No.
Stary: I didn't eat pizza until I was in college. Then it was unavoidable.
Me: I plan to eat ramen for all of college. I am also determined to find someone else in the school who hates pizza.
Kathleen: Ooh! You should put something in the announcements and start, like, a support club! I can just imagine the T-shirts!

Me, leaving a message: Hello, this is Notre Dame Academy's Phonathon 2005. We'll get back to you at a better time. [Really loud burp that came from nowhere.] Thank you. Have a nice day. [Chelsea and Keenan laugh maniacally at me.]

Chelsea: JUICE!!

Mr. B, after I've choked on Mountain Dew and nearly died: Arms up! Arms up! That's what I tell my kids when they choke. It's supposed to make the food go down better or something.

Then the cool kids sat out in the hall for pizza (or birthday cake). Stary talked about his girlfriend whose visa expired, and I told stories about my mother's side of the family, including crazy great-grandma stories. No conversation about my family is complete without tales of my crazy great-grandma. This is how you know she is crazy: she actually says "the Old Country." Such great times.


Good Times, Even Without "Vogue"

I swear to god, I requested "Vogue" about 2,567 times last night. They never played it. Maggie and I were so upset, we were just going to bust out into random hot Vogue-dancing, but the administration obviously is afraid of our hotness or something. We decided that at my wedding reception, there will be the Maggie, Kellinka, and Nobody Else Dance, and it will be "Vogue."

Despite all of that, last night was lovely. We met up with Chelsea and David at Victoria's and had a lot of hilarious discussion.

David: He always calls me "Da-weed." Da-weeeed. It makes me sound like a drug runner or something.

Me, babbling about pasta as I often do: Yes, angel hair from a box is not real angel hair. It is more like spaghetti.
David: Did you just say it's more like Hispanics?

Maggie, when we finally got to the table: Hey, what did you guys talk about for the half hour we weren't here?
Chelsea and David: Strong Bad!

The dance was so much fun. Slut-dancing and gay-man-salsaing with Mags! They played "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" by Daft Punk, which pretty much completed my life. Pencil Case took a lot of great pictures of Maggie and I whoring it up for the camera. I said, "God, I feel like a whore" and started belting out "Lovely Ladies" from Les Miz and David sang the male part/second verse. I also gave certain sleazy people the finger, w00t.

I didn't wake up until 12 this morning. I was so, so tired and probably deaf at the time. So, now I am going to go eat some lunch. Sweetheart Switch is, oh, roughly 6,789 times better than Fall Fest, or, as Das Vater calls it, "Fake Homecoming." That should be the official title, Fake Homecoming. Although I have to say that SS had just as much sleazy sex-with-clothes dancing and just as many chaperones who didn't tell them to "leave a little room for Jesus." Those bitches.



This post is just going to ever-evolve, because today is a ginormous day with so much going on. It's the blog's first birthday, and I'm not really sure how in the hell I'm supposed to commemorate that. Maybe I should compare the blog at the beginning to the blog now, but I'm not sentimental enough. Yes, I've grown. Yes, I now know how to make links instead of just ploomping the URLs randomly into parentheses. I sadly think I still have the same taste in music, just with more of an affinity for the 80s and musical theater. Which means I am becoming more and more a stereotypical homosexual man by the year, which is great.

This is why I didn't write a commemorative post. I just start to babble and make very little sense. So I am just going to talk about Das Chelseahaus. I am also going to save this as a draft and edit it when I get home from SS, which you wouldn't know unless I told you. Shutting up now, and talking about Casa Van Chelsing.

Chelsea's was lovely. We played DDR, which I was terrible at, because I have never played the actual video game version. Chelsea and Pencil Case were both really good, though, because they are dorks. Pencil Case laughed maniacally at me and said, "Kellinka, you are so bad. You are so much better on pen and paper, really." Thanks, Pencil Case.

You will never guess what they had for me upstairs. Cake!! Yes, very delicious cake! There were candles all around the inside, and one in the middle. Pencil Case was hoping they were trick candles, but they weren't, except that I lit all of the ones on the ends before going for the middle one, which caused me to attempt to light the middle one and shout "IT BURNS!" Pencil Case then said, "God, let a man do it!" and did the exact same thing except he didn't get nearly as close to the middle candle as I did. We listened to the Big: the Musical cast recording, which was cool. Pencil Case filled us in on all the behind-the-scenes details of the musical, like that Adult Hermione made him watch 'NSync DVDs to help him dance better and that they have to put condoms on the microphones. I am very excited to see the musical, though, and I'd have to say my favorite songs on the cast recording were "Cross the Line" and "Coffee Black."

We went back downstairs to play Karaoke Revolution. I was thoroughly expecting to suck at this one, too, with my lack of singing talent (especially compared to Pencil Case and Chelsea). But I didn't! I actually earned gold records, which means you don't suck in Karaoke Revolution speak. Pencil Case has an absolutely lovely voice, and Chelsea only sang about half a song due to her Flonase. We then decided to play charades, which involved:
  • me shouting "COMO ESTAS?!"

  • Pencil Case saying things in Australian accents

  • Chelsea saying that on opposite day, your pillow sleeps on you

  • This morning wasn't interesting in the slightest yet. Ricky's SMS forensics competition got canceled and Das Vater is all upset that they're going to reschedule it, because Ricky worked so hard. Because, you know, he's just automatically going to suck if it's next weekend. It's kind of frustrating to know that, last year, he totally forgot about mine and let me sleep through it, but he gets all worked up about Ricky's. Oh, well. I also cut myself shaving and I'm just going to shut up and go listen to Les Miz, I'll be back with the SS update sometime around... well, very early tomorrow morning.

    4:43 PM: Betty Jean is accompanying us in our SS dinner plans, now that she's finally decided to go. I just got back from seeing The Wedding Date with her, which was very predictable but cute nonetheless.

    I am so freaking nervous right now. I have never been anyone's date before, and I have a large feeling I will be a bad one. Okay. Seriously going to get ready now, since Amy is coming over and I love Amy and her girlfight-breaking-up self. I will edit this again after the dance.


    Chez Chellie

    Just a quick update to let y'all know that Chels, Pencil Case, and I are hanging out at Chellie's house. My birthday has been so good, I got the Les Miz soundtrack and a Paris travel book, which makes me fiercely happy.

    Bon Anniversaire

    If you haven't heard, it's my fifteenth birthday. So, leave a nice comment saying happy birthday to me.

    Today started out at my locker, which Maggie had ever-so-gorgeously decorated. And there was a feather boa and pink foam tiara inside to wear! I am still wearing the boa right now. I dropped my food off in the French room, then, and Kayleigh told the greatest story ever about her food for French Food Day:

    "Yeah. I spent four hours making my food last night, and I got home from work at eleven. See, first I made Jello. But it turns out, when you put Jello on whipped cream, it kind of goes... glurp. So I got really frustrated, and then I just went and got some Betty Crocker and made a cake. (Laughter.) Hey, look at my burn. Isn't that cool? I got it at work on the grill. Yeah, it was fine for a few days, but last night, it just started oozing."

    Kayleigh tells the best stories ever. Then Maggie and I went to ask Frau where Madame went, and Frau babbled a bunch of stuff about birthdays in German. None of which I understood, but the meaning got across well. Kind of.

    Anyway, we traversed down to the South Commons Meeting Room, infamous site of our feast. Maggie and I decided to bitch Mr. B, who was visiting Madame (of course), out for canceling school on Valentine's Day.

    Me: Yes, on Valentine's Day, I enjoy coming to school. I give my friends Teletubby Valentines and we make fun of the lovey-dovey people and feel really single. But you had to take that joy away from us.
    Mr. B: So, you can give them Valentines on the next day! Seriously, historically, Valentine's Day was celebrated on the fifteenth, right, Frater? (Yes, The Frater was also there.)
    The Frater: Yes! Of course!
    Maggie: Ooh, The Frater's good at lying.
    Me: Yes. He should play poker more often.

    Anyway, it was a highly eventful class. My Chellie was back, and therefore, my birthday being was complete. Plus, she gave me the greatest birthday card in the history of forever.

    Mr. B: Kellinka, cucumbers are bad for you.
    Me: I don't like cucumbers, I like pickles.
    Mr. B: Oh, those are bad for you, too. They actually have DDT in them.

    Chelsea: I love that all these random male faculty members keep popping in and out for the sole purpose of eating and flirting with Madame! (Truest observation of the day.)

    Pencil Case: Madame, what would you call me in French?
    Madame: Benji. (Gives us a big speech about how our names are a huge expression of ourselves.) Although, if we were Russian, I would probably call Kellinka "[Random Russian Name I Can't Remember.]"
    Me, after the laughter subsides: Um. Why?
    Madame: Because all the [Random Russian Name I Can't Remember]s are very energetic and bubbly, like you.
    Pencil Case: Hey, what would you call me in Russian?
    Madame: Benji.

    Madame: When I was a little girl, I really wanted to be an astronaut. Am I an astronaut? No. Look at how that worked out.

    Anyway, after Madame randomly wore my pink tiara, it was time for English with Chels. The best part of the class was Poppa G going, "Uncle Chett!!"

    In ICP, we decorated the board all up, for it was also Adult Hermione's birthday. She and I agreed that people with February 4th birthdays are the coolest.

    During lunch, I got Noodles from Das Vater. How nice. Then I went to Madame to type, and Maggie went to make master keys in different colors of pen. I was agitated at the laptop, and Madame was agitated at the Eddie Bauer people and a British lady who apparently can't spell. Maggie just laughed at us, all content with her different colors of pen. Although, I have to admit that it was pretty funny when Madame said, "Just because you are from England doesn't mean you don't have to spell things correctly!" to her computer.

    We have had a grand total of two fire drills today. Hello, overkill. And snaps for me for getting a grand total of 48% on my algebra quiz. But, DDR at Chellie's tonight, so it's allllllll good.


    Not a Tumor

    Today in French, we went down to the computer lab again to look for recipes. Except that I already have my recipe, which is Silverware and Paper Plates with a Side of Birthday Treat, so I just got to play on the computer for all of class. Well, actually, I wrote an e-mail to La Mere, since we're having a rather in-depth e-mail discussion about girlfights. Somewhere in the process of writing this, Madame decided I was a good typist and that she is going to put me to work at lunch tomorrow.

    We also discussed shoes, and then I visited Go Fug Yourself, which caused Madame to make this hilariously appalled face at the picture of Juliette Lewis and go, "Who is that?" Pencil Case and I then showed her (perfect) RateMyTeacher.com ratings, and then I was sent up to get the grading scale sheet in the room. Pencil Case wanted to accompany me, but he was irritating me and I kept threatening to strangle him, so Madame wouldn't let him in order to give me a break. She said, as always, "Let me think about that. No."

    In English, we did not discuss Punxatawney Phil. Thank God. I hate that damn rodent.

    Magically, again, bombed the ICP test. That will go over well with the conversation La Mere, who thinks I don't understand physics, and I just had. Then I fidgeted for the rest of class until Adult Hermione said, "Okay, people, settle down and stop moving!" Wait. Holy shit! I didn't bomb my test, I got a C! Just as I was thinking, "Hey, I'll look at PowerSchool, maybe I got a D, I could use a D..."

    During lunch, Paul tortured Maggie. Maggie also had a lump on her leg.

    Maggie: I have a lump on my leg.
    Me: Maybe it's a tumor.
    Maggie, in an Ahnuld voice: It's not a tooooooh-mur.
    Bet: Okay, maybe it's a cyst.
    Me: Or you have an ovary growing in your leg.
    Bet: Yeah, I bet it's an ovary.

    We also had cupcakes that had frosting that looked like Cookie Monster since it's the school's fifteenth birthday. Then Mags and I went to visit Madame so I could work out the details of my new occupation. Then Pencil Case, who was already in the room, started making up random crap on the board to see if the random crap was actual French words.

    Pencil Case: Hey, Madame, does this mean anything. [Points to "la gymnon"]
    Madame: No. Are you trying to spell "jiminy"?

    Madame, on the lip pops French Club is selling: They're really big. It takes, like, two hours to eat one.

    Me, reading the lip pop flavors: Mountain berry. That is not an artificial flavor. They should just call it blue raspberry, which is what it actually is.
    Pencil Case: Kellinka, I grew up in Colorado. I should know that mountain berry is totally a real flavor.
    Me: Well, Pencil Case, I grew up in Wisconsin. I know everything about cheese.

    The rest of the day was very boring except that I was oh-so-hypocritically yelled at during the fire drill. I hate it when adults don't follow their own rules.


    Happy Groundhog Day

    What the hell kind of a holiday is Groundhog Day? Honestly, only in the United States do we have such a ridiculous holiday, if one can even call it that. This conversation pretty much sums up my feelings on Groundhog Day, although I have to admit that I love the Bill Murray movie of the same name.

    Me, writing the date on my French test: It's Groundhog Day.
    Megan: Yup, he saw his shadow.
    Madame: He's a groundhog, what does he know?!

    During the announcements, they announced that we'd be having our NDA Serves free day on Valentine's Day. Maggie and I were mad, because you're supposed to go to school and be depressed with the other single people on Valentine's Day, and Madame was mad, because that was the day we were supposed to distribute Lip Pops for French Club. First Frau popped her head in, and basically laughed at Madame, who was all, "I don't think I like that Mr. B anymore." Then Mr. B popped his head in, probably after hearing a rumor from Frau that Madame was upset with him, and goes, "Yeah, I just came to say thank you." They had a conversation, which I'm sure was very entertaining, but I was busily scribbling answers on my French test.

    The test was very easy. Well, except for the part where, when it came to writing about supermarkets, I forgot the word for "everything" and put down a phrase that literally translates to "the whole world", because, yes, you can buy the whole world at a supermarket. It was rather ridiculous. If I said that to a French person, they would think I had some sort of mental disorder. Which I probably do.

    Bet decided to torture me again in ICP. As a good little girl, I decided to tell the authority figure of the room.

    Me: Adult Hermione, can you please tell Bet the KGB doesn't exist?
    Adult Hermione: Why does she think it exists?
    Me: Because she is tormenting me and I'm afraid of it.
    Adult Hermione: Why, may I ask, are you afraid of the KGB?
    Me: I have a strong fear of privacy invasion.
    Adult Hermione, laughing way too hard: Big Brother is watching you!

    During theology, I got up to blow my nose. This led to Toe Touches totally interrupting his lesson to ask if I was feeling okay. I replied, "Yes, I'm fine, I'm just going to blow my nose" but Toe Touches didn't continue his lesson until I sat back down, which led to me feeling that the whole room was watching me while I blew my nose. God.

    Maggie didn't feel so hot during lunch, and I wasn't hungry, since we were on a short schedule, so we hung out in the French room and worked on our Chapter Seven vocabulary. Yay for "un t-shirt". Anyway, we discussed my weird dreams, Maggie made fun of my subconscious, we discussed our plans for Valentine's Day, and had other random discussions. Oh, and Chellie, the possible 3-to-a-room on the Eurotrip will possibly be fine... [Napoleon voice] yesssssss [end of Napoleon voice]. I am excited for that trip already, most definitely.

    Wheelchair basketball was okay. It would have been funnier if more authority figures had fallen down. Maggie and Iz and I had a good time laughing, though. Iz gets way into the basketball aspect of it all, which is great.

    During history, Kieran asked B-Squared for scissors. B-Squared gave it to them, and Kieran sits down and starts to cut his hair. B-Squared has a 'wtf' look on his face, and says, "If I knew you were going to cut your hair, I wouldn't have given them to you!" Kieran replies, "But someone put gum in my hair!" There wasn't any gum that I noticed, and B-Squared made him put the scissors back. That was our entertainment for the class, though, since we basically just continued being moronic.

    I would also like to mention Pencil Case's brilliant portrait of Bet, which she showed me after third hour. Hilarious. And, no, I am not bringing birthday treats to any of my classes on Friday but French. Maybe if you're special and not in French, like Betty Jean, you will get one. But, when it boils down to it, I just don't love you all as much as I love my French people. And, if you aren't a Frenchie, please don't ask me for a freaking treat, because then you're definitely not going to get one. Capice?


    This Post is All About The Frater.

    This morning, I walked into the French room, where we were listening to the "ghetto rap" mix CD Paul made Madame. (Note to self: Make a much more kick-ass mix CD in order to beat Paul at everything, not just Simon Dit.) Eventually, we traversed down to the computer lab, where we are actually supposed to be. The door is locked, though, so we just stand there for a very long time looking moronic. Madame says something about ghetto rap, and then makes us say our Je Vous Salue Marie in a crazed attempt to get the surrounding classrooms to think we are insane. Then we have actual loudspeaker prayer, and, for some reason, The Frater feels like joining us in our huddle of homeless people outside of room P102. Finally someone comes with keys, and asks where our teacher is, and Madame goes, "I am right here. I know I look too young to be a student, but I'm not."

    We shuffle into the computer lab, and Madame makes us say Je Vous Salue Marie again, this time for The Frater, who has, for whatever reason, accompanied us. Then we get to work on our chapter quizzes and whatnot while The Frater chats with (read: flirts with... wow, good times whispering with Chelsea and Maggie) Madame. After we finish our quizzes, we have to look for recipes for food day on Friday. "Food day" is actually a nice way of saying "Kellinka is Madame's favorite so we get a party on her birthday." Just kidding. I am going to make the most unhealthy thing ever, butter cookies, and also bring in a birthday treat, thus making everyone fat.

    Anyway, after someone pried The Frater away, we talked to Madame about some very interesting things. Madame quoted Finding Nemo and called me a jellybean. I am not joking, no, she said, "You know what I mean, jellybean?" Chellie decided I would be a green jelly bean, or the most random Jelly Belly around. I also decided that Maggie has Smurf kleenex.

    We went to English, and then to the longest church service ever. Except for last week's assembly. Man alive. Anyway, Chelsea left in the middle because she wasn't feeling good. Then I headed off to ICP, where it occurred to me that Lab Partner is a moron. Theology... simple questions immediately become satanism to Toe Touches, that was fun.

    During lunch, I had the best discussion in the history of forever with Maggie. It was about The Frater. Yes, we discussed his flirting tactics, about how, if he was not The Frater, we would flirt back, and how we are going to write a series of children's books based on the antics of The Frater. Since this was the most brilliant idea ever, we went to tell Kara and Emily. They loved it. Kara is totally our illustrator, and The Frater's prom date in the book The Frater Goes to Prom. Paul came over and started babbling mindlessly about his mockingbird-like fixation with Emily's barette. Then Paul and Maggie started cussing each other out (not really) and Emily, Kara, and I had to split them up. Paul had the cruelest diss in the history of cruel Paul disses, even meaner when he called me a drug-addled typist. Pencil Case then tried to start abusing me, but gave up quickly when I grabbed his wrists in some strange sort of death lock.

    The rest of the day, obviously, just was not going to top this. I guess tomorrow we have some sort of wheelchair basketball assembly, but I heard it might involve Senora G trying to play basketball. No, not only trying to play basketball, but in a wheelchair. I am so there. And, no, we're not trying to mock the handicapped. There is actually a professional wheelchair basketball team, and they are going to play various chosen members of the student body and faculty, who will be disadvantaged since they aren't usually in wheelchairs. It is supposed to be inspirational, so we will go along with that.

    I'm off to have The Frater sign some papers saying we can use his image and likeness in our brilliant and amazing picture books.