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


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.


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