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


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.


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