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


Yes, Pencil Case, I do update.

This weekend was pretty much the most entertaining thing of my whole life. Betty's parents were going to a concert, so she got to live with us from Saturday afternoon until this morning.

On Saturday, we sat at the dining room table eating almost a whole dozen Krispy Kremes, and then we went to Noodles to meet up with Lesley, Amanda, and Erin. After that, we all headed off to Mr. Green Bay, where we ran into Erik, Liz, Chelsea, Bet, Elizabeth, Jacob and approximately 87 other people we know. It was a hilarious good time, and my life is now complete because Chickpants: a. waved at me before the show, and b. took off his shirt and did not put it back on for quite some period of time. Yum.

Anyway, after the show, we ran into certain people while we were chatting with Chelsea, Bet, Elizabeth, and Jacob. No one was talking to them, so they came and said "hi." We all said hi, but said nothing else because there was nothing to be said. Then one of them randomly blurted out, "We're going to state!", not mentioning for what. What a random way to start a conversation. Then Chelsea cracked up, which caused the rest of us to crack up, which led to them walking away and feeling socially ostracized.

Then we went home and watched America's Funniest Home Videos with La Mere and made fun of people who fall down. Then we watched the brilliant Emily do a fabulous rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" on the Telethon. Then we watched Elimidate and Betty fell asleep practically eight times.

On Sunday, we were really over-tired and laughed at basically everything. The funniest thing was, though, when my parents went to the grocery store and Betty, as usual, wanted popcorn. That girl is a human popcorn machine. Anyway, somehow she got this idea in her head that popcorn needs four minutes to cook, when in our microwave it only needs two. She also has never discovered a popcorn button. (See: New Year's Eve.) Now, I stop the popcorn with a minute left and Betty takes it out. Of course it smells terrible and it's smoking all over the place, so I bust out the air freshener. The best part, though, is that Betty still thinks the popcorn is going to taste good, so she puts it in her mouth. It starts to hurt, so she spits it out and goes to drink some water as my parents walk in. Das Vater was in a terrible mood and asked, "What's burning?!" We start to laugh, which only gets us in more trouble. Anyway, Betty and I are sitting and trying not to giggle for about half an hour, until she finally says, "I swear to God, all I ever do is come over to your house and burn things!" and she and I crack up maniacally.

Also on Sunday, we made a lot of medical release form jokes, I napped while Betty spend two hours doing algebra homework, Ricky said stupid things that had nothing to do with the conversation, and we asked my mother about the term "fuff" and whether it was a figment of her imagination or not. (I think it was, but La Mere can't remember.) We also talked about how everyone thinks we're Ukrainian, including people who may or may not be speaking English, and La Mere told her favorite Drunken Cruise Stories.

During French today, we rewrote our ten sentences for the THIRD time. This is getting unreasonable, really. We also had one of the evil irregular verb quizzes where I randomly put in the wrong pronouns for two questions. Oh, and then I had a random giggle about pink fluffy shoes.

I didn't read the selection for English. That is because I am cool and have already read To Kill a Mockingbird seven times and still managed to get a 90 on the quiz without reading the assignment.

In ICP, Adult Hermione declared, "Cross-country is not a spectator sport. And neither is golf."

I spent most of art feeling retarded. First we were naming all the James Bonds, and I was the only person who remembered Timothy Dalton. Then we were discussing who should be the next James Bond, and I said Clive Owen, and no one knew who he was. I guess that means I get to keep his hotness alllllll to myself. Then we had to do blind contours of our shoes. We had to take them off, and I was wearing my brown leather knee boots. I felt totally awesome. Then, in the middle of my blind contour, the freaking shoe fell over. Also, my blind contour of my hand looked like a chopped off baby dwarf hand.

Go check for new things on the fiction blog. There's practically a million. By which I mean, two or three.


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