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

2.15.2005

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.

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