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


Dull Day

Today has been extraordinarily dull, but I will re-cap it for you anyway.

You know that feeling when a lot of bad things are happening but you just don't care? You're just too tired, or tired of caring all the time? That is exactly what I feel like today. I am tired and I just do not care. It has constantly been on the verge of rain, which also lends itself to my very meh mood.

During French, we worked on dialogues. Ours is so, so fabulous. Also, Madame totally vandalized the paper case of Au Revoir, Les Enfants, which was funny, and we looked at all of Paul's school ID's. There seems to have been some Extreme Makeover thing going on between freshman and sophomore year, because he looks completely different. (I can only hope that the same will happen to me over the summer.)

English and ICP were pretty boring, except that I got 100 on my ICP quiz. It was very easy, as Adult Hermione promised, and I loved it dearly. Yay for easy quizzes and teachers taking pity on their vastly-less-intellectual students.

Theology... eh. Toe Touches hates me and wouldn't let me print out my essay. This is coming from a man who has obviously never used a word processing program that is deranged and refuses to double-space. Whatever.

Lunch will give you an idea of how boring school is. Betty and I are on scarily heightened Affair Watch. It is dreadfully humorous. We are such corrupt kids, but it is not like the school is supplying us with anything better to do. Seriously, this is how absolutely, god-awfully dull school gets (thank God for gossip):
Betty: You missed it! Kellie, it was so funny.
Me: Missed what?
Betty: She just, like, touched his head.
Me: Like how? Like this? [I place my hand on top of Betty's head like I am blessing her. This is what I'd pictured, at least.]
Vicky, laughing: No! But that would have been SO much funnier!
Betty: No, it was not like that. Jesus. It was more like this. [Betty demonstrates upon herself. This is also a very funny visual that I cannot even begin to explain.]

Yes, Betty and I have way too much fun being bored. It is really very unfair to the rest of the world.

Other than that, nothing really happened today. Pretty boring, as I said.


Street Trash

Oh, goodness, eventful day. It all began in French, where Madame made us do dialogues that involved explaining sports to a foreigner. The sport she chose was soccer, which was a bit of a problem.

Me: See, here is the thing. Soccer is ridiculously commercially popular just about everywhere but America.
Madame: Well, see, these foreigners are from a little African community, way out in the woods. And they do not have televisions. Because they do not like them and because they do not want the tribal children to see dirty commercials.

Maggie: I know them! They donated the team of oxen to Heritage Hill!
Madame: So, they had a team of oxen grazing in their backyard? You can only donate something you have, Maggie.
Maggie: They donated the money for the oxen.
Pencil Case, ten seconds later: Oh, I get it!

Yes, then it was off to English for a tornado drill and a Call of the Wild quiz. If Poppa G somehow gets me to enjoy this book by the end of the unit, he is officially not only brilliant but also magical. On the way to English, however, I explained color-coding to Pencil Case and that even organizationally retarded me can do it.

ICP was the usual, and during theology I wrote a very humorous note to Betty. I even threw around social-science terms that she does not know the meanings of. If I get really bored, I am going to make her a chart that explains what these terms are, so that she can understand exactly how frighteningly historically delayed she is due to Mr. B-squared's class and that he might actually un-do all the brilliance Jalonski instilled in us. That sounded a bit misleading, however, because I didn't actually learn my shiny new terms in Mr. Blaney's class. I taught them to myself because I am a dork.

Lunch was funny. I gave Betty her note, and then she said something very gross. I also bribed her with a milk carton that I believe is the infamous cowwy milk. I forgot our funny discussion from yesterday about how we are going to visit Maggie over the summer while she is working at Heritage Hill.
Betty: Yeah, because you can just walk to my house, and then we can walk over to Heritage Hill.
Me: Yeah, and get smashed on Webster Street!
Betty, laughing: Why would we want to get drunk?
Me: No, no. I meant smashed by a car!

Erik: People always come up to me and ask if I broke my nose, and I don't care.
Me: Erik, that is because you're used to it. Your brother's friends are always coming up to you, saying, "You're gay!" and running away.
Erik: Oh, yeah. That's true.

Then it was off to algebra, land of 100 on my quiz yesterday go me.

Art was insane, as usual. Weird Kid is so funny, and Betty brought me a hilarious response to my note.

Weird Kid, to April: You look like street trash!

Weird Kid, to Not-Disabled Wheelchair Boy: I like your necklace.

Weird Kid, to CV, mocking CC: Colin! You gotta factor everything first! You can't do anything if you don't factor!

Weird Kid, to a random passerby: Hit on Tall Lady for me!

Weird Kid: We should get Becky out here. At least she laughs.
Me: Hey, I laugh, too, when you say all your hilariously disgusting Weird Kid things.
Weird Kid: Which is everything.

Weird Kid, to Patrick: At least I'm not Artsie Tartsie's aunt!
Me: He's not. He's her nephew.
Weird Kid: Whatever. What is that thing that is between aunt and nephew? A niece? An uncle?

Now I am in study hall. After school I get to experience the fun event of my first filling, which will probably involve lots of Novocain and oral pain, not that I am not accustomed to this already. However, I am still dreading it. And, because I am commited (read: stupid), I will probably go back to play practice after, hopefully not with my mouth lodged with cotton balls.


He's a Keeper

I do not have to go to practice tonight. Yessss, much excitement.

This morning began with very crazy announcements from Mrs. Brown. Very funny. Then we ended up discussing Dunk Tank.

Pencil Case: I thought Estufa was doing Dunk Tank!
Madame: Yeah, well, Stoofer told me she does not want to do Dunk Tank.

Yes. Stoofer. That made me laugh for quite a while. It is in the same vein as other such words, like, "Meester Brooooker" and "flame-able" and "doooorable."

Anyway, then it was off to English. Poppa G said that although California is beautiful, he would not want to live there because someday it is all going to be in the ocean. Then, during ICP, Adult Hermione told us brainwashing stories that were not really about brainwashing, and it was really only one story. So I actually just lied somewhat.

During ICP, I wrote Betty a very humorous note. I got it back, with a response from her, at lunch, after keying an 85-question standardized test twice. She is so funny. Then, Erik threw a little container of Reese's Pieces at me, and I caught it, but then when I threw it back at him, he couldn't catch it and instead it hit him. Also, I choked on an Advil and Pencil Case and Daf dissected the inside of my purse. And I attempted to con Pencil Case into things that involve him in drag.

Art was, as usual, the most eventful, thanks to the combination of Weird Kid and Pencil Case.

Weird Kid, to RR, who was out *ahem* with MM: He's a keeper.

Weird Kid: I do not match my boxers to my shirts!
Me: Yeah, but do you match your shirts to your boxers?

Yes, then Pencil Case was hitting Valley Girl Voice with with his ruler and they, along with Jenny, were making quite a bit of noise. I was laughing, and then Artsie Tartsie got all ticked off and sent us all back in the room for making too much noise. Note that she did not do the same for Weird Kid. Also somewhere in there, I talked back and got yelled at. Good times, good times. Some days, I really strongly dislike people.

So, right now, I am just hanging out, very very bored, and renewing my library books online like the big dork that I am.


That's a Nice Slab

Weird Kid is officially the Ritalin-deficient highlight of any of the art classes of my life.

Artsie Tartsie, to Pencil Case: There aren't just four slabs from here to the door! Look, this is a slab.
Weird Kid: That's a nice slab!

There was also him talking in psychotic voices and throwing erasers, as usual. After the "nice slab" comment, Pencil Case spent about ten minutes creepily laughing to himself. Then, he realized his foot was asleep again and got very excited. He also renamed his foot Stumpy.

Pencil Case: Only this one falls asleep. It is funny.
Me: Maybe you have low blood circulation on that side of your body. Maybe that side of your heart is different than the other, or you had a stroke.
Pencil Case: I think it needs a name. I know! I will call it "Stumpy."

During lunch, Betty and I talked for a very long time about crazy things, mainly making fun of people. Also, there was a baby shower going on in one of the meeting rooms that was not eventful at all. However, there were "It's a Boy" banners hanging up everywhere.

Me, talking about the "party": Wow, that is so sad. They are doing nothing at all.
Betty: It is actually really entertaining, in a boring sort of way. [Betty giggle.]

Betty: Hey, Blumreich, who's having a baby?
Blumreich: Oh, the party's for me. Yeah, because I'm a boy.

Then I went back up to hang out with everyone's favorite Russian, which involved deciphering phone numbers and making a sign up for dunk tank and marker-taping.

Madame, after the psychotic phase of marker-taping: I am a genius! [evil laugh]

Rachel: You aren't that short.
Madame, sarcastically: Are you kidding? She's a giant!
Me: This isn't funny anymore. Plus, I'm wearing heels today.

Other than that, today was pretty boring. We had an assembly and apparently I got a service award for my numerous straining (haha) lunch hours. Wow. Also, Betty could not see the face of the speaker and just about seized up, whispering, "Oh my god. He's all blurry. I can't see any of his features. Kellie! Who is that!?" which was funny. She has now convinced herself she is blind.

Lady: How is your biology going?
Kid: Good.
Lady: I'm going to need more than a one-word answer.
Kid: Very good.

Yesterday afternoon was play practice, good bread, and Mr. Blaney chastizing me for getting a 92, which involved him repeatedly tapping my head. Augh, freshman history, you really cannot win. You either get a certifiably bizarre teacher or a certifiably awful one. It is really a choice of the lesser of two evils, except that you either put up with what they scheduled you for or, like me, become Super History Bitch and make a schedule transfer.

We are reading Call of the Wild, AKA The Most Pointless Book Ever and Probably Kellinka's Least Favorite, in English. Augh. Also, ICP is fun when you actually understand it. Also when Adult Hermione tells us stories about how she used to think she could stick her fingers in her pupils because no one ever told her about corneas, but she never actually had the guts to do it. That reminded me of something I might have done as a child, because I had this obsession with poking my own eyes. Also with cutting the tips off markers and then drawing with them.



It's Raining Men

Yes, that is what Pencil Case and I were singing and laughing manically about on the way to second period. Fun times.

This weekend was very fun. Aunt Denda came up to escape her respective dysfunctional family and Das Vater and Ricky went camping. Also, I think La Mere might have misplaced her brain.

La Mere: [Something totally historically inaccurate that was so bad I blocked it out of my impressionable young head.]
Me: Mother, really. I am so ashamed that you are as historically retarded as you are.
La Mere: Well, you are of my loins.
Me: Please do not use that word ever again.
La Mere: [maniacal laughter.]

Me, looking at a very tarty pair of shoes: My gosh, hooker heels.
La Mere: Brooker heels?!?

So, today, there has been this phenomenon in which I have no control over the things I say. Well, even less than usual. But several times I have just said things and thought that I was thinking them until I realized that they actually did come out. This is mainly in conversations with Madame, who doesn't really care that much. It is deeply amusing, this phenomenon, which I have given the label of "being sassy."

Madame: Kellinka, go back to the board please.
Me: But I don't feel like it!
Madame: Kellinka.
Me: I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I was just being sassy.
Madame: Yeah, well, maybe you need a time-out.
Me: Maybe you should just put me on the naughty circle. (Erroneous Supernanny reference.)
Madame: Yeah, well, maybe I will!

Madame: I could give Brooker the link to your blog.
Me: I seriously would stab you. Wait! No! I didn't mean that! I am so sassy today. I have no idea where this is coming from, it just falls out.

French class was, as a rule, generally insane.

Pencil Case: Is courir a relocation verb?
Madame: Is there a "c" in Mr. and Mrs. D. Vandertrapp?

The rest of the day was pretty boring, except for when Spaz got to be deaf in theology. Then lunch was good times.

Mike: How do you spell "Kelsey"?
Kelsey: K-e-l-s-e-y.
Madame: Good job.
Me: Yep, Kelsey. Good job spelling your own name.

Me, dancing with a plush snake in a very Britney Spears fashion: Hey, who am I?!

Madame, about my two dollar bills: Really. Are you sure you are not printing these in your basement?

Art class was not as fun as usual, because Weird Kid had to stay in the classroom. Also, Artsie Tartsie sent Pencil Case to the office "to think about what he'd done", and then he came back and his foot fell asleep again. However, still not as fun without Weird Kid shouting out random ADD-type things and telling us all to shut up.

I think that all the cool kids will go visit the newly-updated fiction blog and comment.


Pencil Case's Foot Doesn't Walk Anymore

Yesterday after school, Pencil Case made me go ask Madame how to say some German thing, and this conversation took place.
Madame: German is just wrong. They have no vowels.
Me: Madame, you are Russian. You should be used to having no vowels whatsoever.
Madame: Russian has a perfectly normal amount of vowels! You never have more than two consonants in a row!
[Erik and I are in stunned silence when we actually realize that she is serious.]
Me: Okay, it's not as bad as, like, Polish.
Erik: But when you transliterate it, you have about five consonants to every vowel!
Madame: Well, that is not a problem with Russian. That is a problem with English.

Then last night, I somehow managed to survive my grandmother's birthday party. We had fortune cookies, and she took great delight in adding "in bed" to the ends of all of them.
Me: You will advance your skills.
Saint Julia: In BED!

This morning in French, we had Fun French Friday. We watched Dumb and Dumber, probably one of my least favorite movies of all time. Its title is quite appropriate. Then it was off to English, where we had a test. Between French and English, Pencil Case poked his head in the Spanish room and yelled, "ESTUFA!!"

ICP somehow went insane. I should have known this was not going to be a normal class when I somehow got a 96 on my test, but the class got (if possible) even crazier from that point.

Adult Hermione: If you were to be inside a microwave, you would blow up. Any animal will blow up in a microwave, the hamster, a canary. Please do not go to the pet store and buy an animal to microwave.

Jack, totally randomly: The aliens would have won anyway. They could reproduce from their own saliva.
[Total silence.]

Adult Hermione: Oh, speaking of peoples' eyes blowing up!

Then we talked about dress code and a gross boy taking pictures down girls' pants with his cameraphone. Adult Hermione also said the word slutty, then couldn't believe she had actually said the word slutty. She is hilarious.

During lunch, I swear, Betty and Erik make me laugh harder than anyone else. Erik says he will wear lip gloss for money, and Betty just tells me horror tales of Mr. B-Squared's first-hour history class. For example, he pronounced "de la Salle" "day la Sally."

Before Art, Pencil Case and I called La Mere on the telephone. Art was psychotic as usual. I tried to throw an eraser and Weird Kid and missed. He also made fun of April's roots. The hair kind.
Weird Kid: Oh, come on, he is practically dead. He has died, like, three times already and it is not like anyone is going to miss him. They will probably thank us.

After Art, Pencil Case's foot was just dangling there and would not walk. It was very funny. He did regain his muscle strength, by the way.


"Trailer Trash!"

So, it turns out that my bad Russian accent for auditions was not so bad after all, because I somehow managed to get the part of the Grand Duchess. Much excitement, and I'm very lucky to have lots of cool people who are happy for me. Plus, Maggie made it, too, which equals even more excitement. Good times, good times.

Yesterday we had an early dismissal, so I geeked out and went to the library. I read America by Jon Stewart, which is quite possibly the funniest thing ever. And then I checked out a bunch of geekness books and CDs, including Introduction to Sociology (I love it) and the soundtrack of The Royal Tenenbaums.

In French, we finally learned the past tense. Chelsea needs to get better. Also, Pencil Case lost his place in the learning T and Maggie made fun of the pretty pen.

During lunch, I decided that I was going to blow up Erik's left ventricle.

Then it was off to art, or, as I like to call it, ADD Hell.

Pencil Case: Kellinka. Get me a pencil.
Me: No. I cannot just grow you a pencil. I mean, do you want me to just grow an extra butt for you?!
[Brooker walks past as I'm talking about growing an extra butt.]

Weird Kid, to April: Trailer trash!
[Pencil Case dies of laughter.]

Yes, there were more instances of hilarity from Weird Kid, most of them involving throwing things or shouting very obvious things like, "I CAN'T FOCUS!" and "YOU DESERVED THAT! JUST LIKE YOU DESERVED TO FALL OFF A FOUR-WHEELER!!" I swear, people must just think, "I have ADD! I will go take art!"


"He doesn't have fat arms, he has husky arms."

In French today, Pencil Case was again devoid of coffee.

Pencil Case: Now, Madame is drinking coffee. And I asked her if she was, and she said, "Pencil Case. I have a child, I do not sleep." [Long pause.] I just can't believe I have a growth chart on the door.

Madame: You know, the rules of soccer. Like, you can only kick with your feet, knees, and your head.
Me: Kick with your head?
Madame: You just be quiet.

Madame: You know what English word comes from that word? Doooorable. [Translation: durable.]

Then it was off to English, where we mainly talked about people getting their fingers cut off. Then in ICP, I was bored.

Toe Touches, talking about nuclear war joke posters: "Number 10: Put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye."
[Brooker walks in.]

Art was hilarious, even without the farting, thanks again to Weird Kid. What a spastic boy.

Weird Kid: [Not shutting up.]
Me: Do you have ADD? Seriously.
Weird Kid: Yes, I do. What's it to you?

Pencil Case: Weird Kid gets all twitchy whenever Cow throws erasers at him.
Me: You twitched, too, when I threw my eraser at you, and then it bounced off your fat arm.
Weird Kid: He doesn't have fat arms, he has husky arms.

Yes, yes, and now I am sitting here trying to remember what I had meant to do today. Yesterday after school, Erik and I sat outside and talked for an hour. It was very fun. We talked about languages, history, what we want to do when we grow up, being good at arguing, arguing with teachers, reputations, and other various random things. Then it was time for more play auditions, and accents that were-- yes, it is possible-- even worse than mine.

I love rain. And Betty, who is the only person I know who will send me a note, folded up to be about a square eighth of a centimeter, and then I open it, and it has a drawing of an alien, under which it says, "HAPPY ALIEN HUNTING." And this whole thing causes me to crack up insanely during ICP.


Auditions, a.k.a. Fun With My Bad Russian Accent

Auditions went fairly well last night, and they were fun with all the cool drama folks who are also too cool to go on the choir trip. I am going again tonight, probably, which will be a fun time.

Also, I got two poems into LitMag, a very exciting thing. They are, for your enjoyment, A Love Letter and Starving. Yessiree, Bob, I am magical. However, Pencil Case, during art gave me a large lecture about why I should have submitted Practical, because it is his favorite. He finds it very funny, and he also approves of Shift. I am only writing about this because I felt very cool discussing my writings with a peer and, evidently, I am just too pretentious to come out and say it. Anyway, I am incredibly excited.

French was good. Madame and I bickered like we often, by which I mean always, do. We did the same thing at lunch.
Me: Forget it! Never mind!
Madame: I'm neverminding already. [Goes on to think about it. Out loud.]
Me: I thought you said you were neverminding!
Madame: Well, now I want to think about it, because I see what you were saying.
Me: It is only a point back. I don't care that much.
Madame: Well, I am thinking about it. Just let me think.
[This goes on for another fifteen minutes until she finally gives me the point back.]

Also, we are now measuring Pencil Case's height in silver Sharpie on the door frame.

Evidently, we have a new Popey McPapalpants. This led Toe Touches into a seizure of excitement, so we spent 15 minutes sitting in the lawn of the school with his crappy radio trying to hear who it is.

Lunch was insanity. There was talk of uniforms. This aggravates me because I shuold not have to buy a whole new wardrobe just because the majority of the students in this school are too lazy to take off their North Face fleeces. Whatever, I probably should not talk because-- and this is between you and me-- I am not in dress code at the moment. That is right. I have no socks on.

Anyway, also at lunch, I had a spasm that led to French 2 not getting their quizzes corrected. Oops. That is not a big deal, however, because Madame is not happy with them anyway and spent most of lunch running around to find people. Therefore, I spent my lunch being hit by Erik's stomach, threatening to cut off his stomach if it hit me ever again, Betty thinking I was going to cut my head off, Betty having a spaz about Pencil Case's excellent pink shirt, accidentally taking Maggie's backpack (because we have the same one), and a large amount of Vicky spit. You probably, now that I have told you, did not want to know.

Art... I swear, Pencil Case is officially the funniest boy in the world. First, he was trying to mock the way Weird Boy was sitting, which caused him to unleash the loudest fart I have ever heard. This led to a lot of laughing and Mr. Blaney coming out and randomly asking me something about history. However, this time, he did not call me Kathleen, which is because he did not call me anything.

Now, one fart would have been enough, but this is Pencil Case. So, of course, fifteen minutes later, he pops out another fart, purposely, and this one is even louder. Also in this time period, he laughed and snorted hilariously. I swear, he is the most humorously juvenile boy I know.

During ICP, I made a list of all the things teachers have called me. I will post it here for your pleasure.
Random Names Teachers Have Called Me For No Apparent Reason
1. Kathleen (Mr. Blaney)
2. "I'm sorry... I know your name... I just don't remember it." (Mr. Blaney)
3. Yulia (Madame, on one of those random days when she feels like turning me Russian.)
4. Tatiana (Madame, on another one of those days.)
5. Callie (Cute Student Teacher, and about ninety-two other people.)
6. Katie (Just about everyone.)
7. Laurie (Cute Student Teacher.)
8. Julie (Cute Student Teacher.)

I think I am going to keep this list all through high school, because I'm quite sure I can accumulate a lot.

Found on Overheard in the Office:
Jet-Setting boss: I have to go to fucking Appleton, Wisconsin. Appleton, Wisconsin! What am I going to do there?
Secretary: Well, there's always cow-tipping.


Nothing of Actual Substance to Say

I'm not going to say anything of actual substance, because there isn't really anything to say. I'm kind of having a bad day, what with the lack of cleaning disks, and exploding tupperware, and sleep deprivation-caused migraines.

Saturday was fun. I talked to my Chelsea on the phone for an hour and we had good times, talking about the good old days. By which I mean, November and December in Chelsea's basement, armed with a sexual alien, the NDA calendar, an orange Sharpie, and our weird little minds.

Then I went over to Betty's and had fun times with her and her family. I love Betty's family, because they are practically my second family. We played Cranium, I had rants about art class that sent Betty into spastic torrents of giggles, and I renamed her Popey McPapalpants based merely upon the fact that it popped into my head, and Betty's little sister, Little Buddy, made things erroneously dirty.

We also watched The Notebook, and I talked through it the whole time, as I am wont to do, about how Ryan Gosling would probably be the most gorgeous man alive if he didn't have such strangely large nostrils. Then I talked about why I like the rain and how it reminds me of my childhood. Then I said about eighty more random things and ate about 3,490 Fruit Roll Ups.

And now I am sitting here with a very large migraine still and I'm off to read the script for the play.


In Loving Memory of Hugh Jass

Last night, I was studying for history with La Mere, who is, much to my dismay, historically challenged.

La Mere, reading my notecard: "The Battle of the Bulge was aimed at--" (about ten minutes of maniacal laughter.)
Me: Please enlighten me on why this is so amusing.
La Mere: It just is! Ask Chelsea if she's amused by it. Chelsea will think it's funny.
Me: La Mere. This is really not funny at all.
La Mere: Yes, it is!
Me: Okay, but just remember, Mother, that this is coming from the woman who thought that 1940 was what came directly after World War 1.

Then it was off to school this morning. I told Betty to say hi to Mr. B-Squared from me, just because I knew it would agitate him. Then Maggie and I had to tell Madame something vaguely important, but then Madame decided to be cool-well, she didn't decide to be, she really just is- and tell Gross Couple to stop making out. Then she told us and Frau about how this is the third time this week she has told them to stop.

Madame: I have told them three times to stop making out and touching each other inappropriately!
Frau: Tell them to make room for Jesus.
Me: I told them that. They were making out by my locker.
Madame: I swear, next time, I am going to give them a detention. I will write on their slip, "making out in the hallway." And then I will send them to Meester Brooooker.

(Yes. That is what she calls him.)

Then we had French class. This involved watching about four minutes of French Kiss, me going to return some random shark toy to Frau, and Madame saying, "We should stop before we make Pencil Case cry." Then she told Maggie and I to speak French all the time, which we did.

Me: Ben, le prof etudiant pour l'histoire, il ne sait pas mon nom. Premiere, je suis Kellie, mais non, il dit Callie et Katie et Laurie et Julie et cetera! (Like, the student teacher for history, he does not know my name. First, I am Kellie, but no! He says Callie and Katie and Laurie and Julie, et cetera.)
Maggie: Mais il est beau. (But he is handsome.)
Me: Ah, oui! (Ah, yes!)

Me: Mon frere est Jeffrey Dahmer. (My brother is Jeffrey Dahmer.)
Maggie: C'est vrai?! (It's true?!)
Me: Oui! Et je mange mon cahier dans le matin. (Yes. And I eat my notebook in the morning.)

Sadly, I actually meant to say those things. Then Maggie and I talked about a certain someone, en francais, which worked well because he doesn't speak the language very well. Then I just ended up detailing the last episode of America's Next Top Model for Madame and telling her about how none of the girls could read English words or French names.

Madame: Is the wrestler still on? And is her face better?
Maggie: WHAT?

During theology, I wrote a list entitled Lessons Learned in Freshman Theology With Toe Touches. I will copy it here for you.

Lessons Learned in Freshman Theology With Toe Touches

1. Communism and the USSR, the Cold War (which is, of course, entirely the USSR's fault and had nothing at all to do with any other country), and casual sex (which was, obviously, caused by the Cold War), are what is wrong with the world today. At least according to Toe Touches. I tastefully disagree.

2. You can baptize someone with saliva in extreme situations.

3. Murder is bad.

4. This is a waste of 46 minutes of my time.

Lunch was interesting. Madame talked about the making-out kids even more, I was made fun of for saying "pop" instead of "soda", and I saw something I wish I hadn't but will not detail here on the way up from the Commons.

Art was generally insane. Pencil Case had to make posters up for cancer survivors for the American Whatever Society Cancer Run.

Pencil Case: Artsie Tartsie wants me to do this (outline his letters, which look fine, in black.)
Me: That will muck it all up, though.
Pencil Case: I don't care. It's not my dead relative who's going to be on here.

Me: You should just make names up. Like, "In loving memory of Hugh Jass" or "In honor of Phil McCracken."*

Anyway, right now, I'm in study hall, deliberately not studying for history and being asked by sophomores to type papers. Yeah, right.

*This was a new height of maturity for me, as you can see.


Changing My Name

"There's a civil war inside me because I'm a slave of my heart and my mind wants to free it."
-Maggie, on Friday, at Atlanta Bread Company

Right now, I am in French pretending to be productive. This means talking to Maggie about babies, Paul's He-MS (male PMS), and other various insane things, like the fact that Britney Spears is officially pregnant. That is going to be one gross baby. And Madame is convinced that the juniors are going to beat up DD.

Madame, as DD walks toward the juniors: DD... why are you doing that? They are going to beat you up! Do you really want to get beat up? (DD ignores her. Madame notices that DD and the juniors all have curly hair.) Awww... look! They all have curly hair.

Also, we decided I am going to change my name because everyone spells it wrong anyway.

Me: Hey, Madame, what should I change my name to?
Madame: You should change it to the Russian name Tatiana.
Maggie: Oooh. That suits you. We should look up what it means.
Me: [Looks up what it means.] "Fairy queen."
Maggie and Me: [Maniacal laughter for about ten minutes.]

So, you heard it here first. Thanks to: a) being tired of people misspelling my name, and b) crazy people, I am now Tatiana the Fairy Queen. Before this, Maggie declared my new name to be Anya. This is because I am going to grow up to be an evil Russian dictator with a fast walk who eats too many bagels and hires her friends to be assistants in charge of making fun of sluts or checking out cute males. At least until the UN shuts me down. Actually, I would really be a bad dictator, I just have a very imposing presence. I would annex people and then say, "Yeah, do whatever the hell you want."

Before all this nonsense, we had a French Club meeting. This means that the first thing I heard when I got to my locker this morning was Madame shouting, "WHAT ARE YOU KIDS DOING WITH THE DOUGHNUTS!?!?"

Later, in Study Hall: English, I had to give my speech and almost threw up. Apparently, however, I did not look nervous, which is baffling. Wolfae did an amazing job though!

ICP involved more Life Lessons from Adult Hermione. She has been especially insane lately, as demonstrated by little talks like this:
"The reason that the upper half of the auditorium doesn't have carpeting is not because that's where the freshmen sit."


"A few years ago, if you had a cell phone as a teenager, everyone thought you were a drug dealer! Seriously... kids would get expelled if they had cell phones... but that's because the ones who had cell phones were the ones who were dealing drugs."

Sadly, my day was pretty boring otherwise.


Buggies Make Maggie Want to Procreate

Last night, Betty and I were forced against our wills to go to the school play of our respective younger siblings. This could have been very bad if we would have had to go it alone, but instead we spent the whole time giggling.

Betty: He's so short! *maniacal Betty laughter*

Then it was off to French in the morning. Paul and Maggie got in a "fight", and Maggie said, "We are no longer speaking! Which is fine, because I don't like talking to mean people anyway!" Madame is turning me Type A by being all, "Kellinka, how could you get a 95 on a quiz? For you, that is awful!" and she wasn't kidding. Then Madame assigned me random binder tasks and assigned Maggie random organization-of-baby-papers tasks.

Maggie, holding up a pamphlet for buggies: Doesn't this just make you want to have babies?

In English, we did more speeches. Most of them were very good, however, some had some unfortunately amusing bits of too much information.

Weird Kid: ...Shortly after, I was concieved.

After English, Emily saw me and said, "Hi, Kellie," and patted my head, which made me laugh.

ICP just keeps getting crazier and crazier by the day. First, Adult Hermione was late, and when she got back into the room, Kirsch yelled, "ADULT HERMIONE! YOU'RE LATE!" because Colin paid him five dollars to do so. Then we went on our merry way, talking about the physics of musical instruments.

Adult Hermione: When things are out of harmony, they sound bad. Even I know they sound bad and make a face like, ew, that sounds yucky. And our choir director definitely makes faces to let the singers know it doesn't sound good. *makes Schmidty face*

Adult Hermione: Don't worry about my family. They already know I'm insane.

Adult Hermione: ... and that is why rap is not music.
Weird Kid: But what about beat-boxing?

Colin: Do harmonicas have anything to do with harmonics?

Theology, I was bleeding all over, and Toe Touches wouldn't let me get a bandage. I almost considered telling him I was a hemophiliac, just to see if he would believe me.

Lunch involved a great many comments about my height or lack thereof, and Betty begging for money. I also typed up a list of 30 vocabulary words and their definitions in three minutes, leading to great amazement.

Art was bizarre. I walked around for a bit and ran into Kate, who told me a very funny tale about how she has to wear her glasses today because she accidentally put peroxide in her eye instead of contact solution. This is why she is the best surrogate big buddy ever. Also in art, Pencil Case drew fantastic eyes on his scratch art.

Artsie Tartsie: What have you done to your hair!? It looks amazing! Did you get a new haircut?
Me: No, but thank you.
Artsie Tartsie: It's just so thick! And beautiful. (To Pencil Case, who is, like me, terribly weirded out:) Doesn't she have amazing hair?
Pencil Case: Um... sure.

That was my weirded-out-ment for the day. La Mere and I are going to go to Noodles with Pencil Case sometime this week, which will be a very grand time. I can taste the rolls already.


Captain and First Mate Obvious

Well, I am going to sum of my weekend of Cabaret Night fun in quotes, starting with set-up on Friday night. Maggie, Sarah, and I helped Senora G, which was insanity. Then Maggie, Chellie and I walked to Atlanta Bread to eat and hung out for about three bazillion hours, discussing our favorite topics, such as boys and adulthood.

Senora G: No pre-marital bunting!

Me: I am so tan on my legs, I look like a Mexican!
Me: I can't do that! I'm bad at manual labor!
Senora G: I thought you said you were a Mexican!

Senora G: Naughty balloons!

After my mom picked me up from Atlanta Bread, we went to B&N. At B&N, this woman was talking on her cell phone and sounded exactly like Madame, which freaked me out. Then I wanted to find a book about sociology, but noooo, everyone had to muck up the social sciences section, so I couldn't. However, I did buy Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri, which is quite good so far.

Saturday was Cabaret Night. During that time, I learned that I am going to bring back educator-chic by wearing my glasses on my head when I am not wearing them. This is a situation where everyone wins, because it also keeps my hair out of my face. I'm not going to sum up the other things, because everyone else has.

Afterward, Maggie, Chelsea, Emily, Mrs. R, and I went to a McDonald's for an emergency food stop for Emily. This also involved many hilarious quotes.

Emily: If your metabolism stops, you die! Your menstrual cycle, that's what stops when you hit menopause.

Mrs. R: What a butt!

Mrs. R: Be careful with your fries, I don't want any dead fries in my car. They smell bad.

On Sunday, church was actually worth it, because I sat by Betty and we gossiped. Also, Alyssa and Girly Laugh Boy and their family came over for about fifteen minutes and called me short. And it was the best night of television, with a very intense Desperate Housewives and a very cute Grey's Anatomy.

Me: Sometimes it is like, "Get a room, Captain and First Mate Obvious!"
Betty: Is there a First Mate Obvious?
Me: There is now.

Today has not been notable at all, except for the return of insomniac showgirl eyes! That's right! Pencil Case finished his artwork early, so he gets to do a scratch-art version of the insomniac showgirl eyes!

Also during French, Pencil Case stole the announcements from me. There was something about Big Brothers Big Sisters, and so he wrote in the margin "'I want to be a Big Sister, but I am too short!' -Kellinka". Thank you, Pencil Case. (As you can tell, it has been a great couple of days to be only 5'1".)

Adult Hermione was kind of insane in ICP today, talking about her love of loud music and hitting things on her shoes and taking quite a bit of delight in all of this.

For the record, Le Nature's orange-flavored Ice Water lies. It says it tastes like orange, but it does not at all. It tastes the same as water from the bubbler or the water cooler or the faucet. Feel free to disagree with me here. This is what happens when you buy water based upon the cute packaging, you get water that lies.


Nasal Cavity

Congratulations Chelsea on getting your temps!! And congrats to Wolfae for becoming team captain for soccer!

Today we got to watch The Incredibles, a.k.a. Les Incroyables, during French. I love that movie so much. However, we need to finish it, because I am desperate to know how to say "Your baby has special needs!" en francais.

Also in French, I felt crazy. Not that this is something I don't usually feel in that class, but you get the idea. During the announcements, mainly, was when the craziness began. I talked in a commercial person voice and said things like, "Yeah, so, nice commas there! Not!" Then we talked about Dunk Tank and looked at pictures from Dunk Tank last year.

Abigail: We should put Mr. Blaney in the Dunk Tank! That would be hilarious!
Madame: No, we can't. Not with his heart condition.

English was funny. I went to the bathroom and wandered the halls, and when I came back, Chelsea was gone and no one knew of her whereabouts. I was worried that she'd gone to look for me and couldn't find me, so I went to look for her, and then I found her. It turns out she was going to the bathroom also. On the way back to English, we saw D, and Poppa D (who refuses to do Dunk Tank, but volunteered Blumerich to do so), and Blumerich (who told us the same stories about Dunk Tank that Madame had about an hour before.) We also disrupted the Frater's class with Poppa D, so Frater told us to stop disrupting. This was because Pencil Case was making a lot of manic pointing gestures at us.

ICP... 91 on my quiz! Studying is magical! Sometimes I type very quickly and manically and loudly and I don't realize I am doing so until people start to stare.

Anyway, lunchness. This involved insanity like Madame being on hold for two minutes, and then saying, "HOW LONG ARE THEY GOING TO KEEP ME ON HOLD?!" and Kelsey wrote things that looked like they were in Japanese.

It would be really nice if ABC put all our grades in PowerSchool, like our extra credit that was due before our quiz. That way, we would have an actual accurate estimation of what our grades really are. Jeez.

Art. Oh lords. That class is made for people who are insane, let me tell you. Believe you me. Here are some examples of the dementia:

Chair Humper: Barbie, I'm going to shove this in your nasal cavity!
Barbie: Like I even have one.

Yes, that is our art class. People who have no nasal cavities.

Then we had a big long assembly. After which Maggie made fun of my height. See, I am not under 5'. I am 5'1". There is a difference, just not to, you know, an amazon like Maggie. (She is 5'6". That is amazonian to me.) Also during the assembly, I got the silent giggles remembering the "ABUSE! ABUSE!" incident of wandering the halls with Pencil Case. Here is a link to that amazing and heartwarming tale, to refresh your memories. This tale will also remind you of how fantastically (bad) good I am at giving people nicknames. Really, I could not be more obvious if I tried, and, sadly, I wasn't trying.

Oh my Jesus, how do people manage to chew loudly with their mouths closed!? Bafflement. That sentence needed interrobang.


Fantastic History Class Bathroom Falling Journey

I'm starting with yesterday's eighth hour history bonanza. It actually would not have been much of a bonanza if it wasn't for my extraordinary lack of equilibrium, Chelsea's instinct to let go of hands, and my innately small bladder.

Mr. Blaney's rule is that, when you go to the bathroom, you get to bring a friend along, "in case you pass out." I am not even joking, as much as Madame thought I was when I told her this amazing tale. Anyway, I brought Chelsea, also known as Freight Train. We were walking to the bathroom by the theology rooms, which I don't like, but then we ran into David at the corner of the senior hallway before I could argue. So we chatted with David for a bit, and then he ran off.

So that is where I started to argue with Chels about going to the Commons bathrooms. We pulled on each other's arms until Chelsea let go and I fell flat on my back in the middle of the history hallway. I made a very large noise, it was something like, *WHOMP* "Chelsea! You idiot! Why did you let go?!" *maniacal laughter*. So, unless the surrounding classrooms were convienently vacated, which I doubt they were with my luck, someone had to have seen other than Chels, and David, who turned around halfway down the hall and laughed at me. I have enlisted Madame to ask around if people saw a random short freshman falling in the history hallway yesterday during eighth hour.

Me: So, hey, could you ask people something on my behalf?
Madame: Who are you talking to?
Me: You!
Madame: Then say my name. Please.
Madame: So, yeah?
Me: [Tells the story.]
Madame: [Makes various amusing facial expressions as I tell my story, then says:] Kellinka. Do you see where Mr. Blaney made his mistake?

So that was my evening. Then it was off to mes mecs in first-hour French in the morning, as usual. We took an Easter vocab quiz, then we did exercises on the infamous orange sheets. Then I threw a marker at Madame (she asked for one), which she caught, and then I lied about wearing spray-on pantyhose and freaked everyone out. Good times of goodness.

Pencil Case: Throw this out for me.
Me: I am not the maid!
Pencil Case: You're mean!

Off to English. Which was really "talking to my peeps." Then ICP, which was boring, and theology, where we did not talk about Popey for once. Thank God.

There were also more escapades of Chelsea and Kellinka after English that I should mention. It was called Kellinka Makes The Chelsea Go Look For A Picture Of Someone That Is Actually Not There. Since Chelsea didn't want to go, I promised her I would tell her a story. It was called "Why I Love Chelsea." Stary also listened and critiqued it, even after I politely asked him to shut up. It was a really good story, except that I forgot the part about how I love Chelsea's freight trainness. Then I could not find the picture I was looking for. Bitches.

At lunch, Brianna detailed her love affair with food, Kelsey tried to communicate with her mouth full of Froot Loops that she swore smelled like cinnamon, Girly Sweater told me about the time when Madame told him to relax and he told her she was "such a stoner," and other various insane things.

Math quiz... I thought I was going to do well, but now I am not so sure. Oh, well, I still think I did okay. Art, made things pretty and managed not to make Artsie Tartsie mad, which is a four-day record for me. I don't know what it is about her that makes me so antagonistic and eager to misbehave, but whatever it is, it's quite entertaining. Pencil Case's art is beautiful and mine is hideous, of course.

Now it is off to history. Where I hopefully will not fall over in the middle of the hallway, entertaining as it was.

Good luck on your temps test, Chels!!!


Gloria Estefan

Oh, French. You are brilliant. Only in this class would I lay about on a beanbag and be referred to as "baby genius." Not, however, for my killer laying-about-on-beanbags skills. My beanbag skills are so good that Madame thought I was not feeling well. Maggie and I forgot to ask about European toilet paper, and then we talked about stupid English speeches.

Maggie: I don't have any heroes! I mean, what am I supposed to say? "My hero is Gloria Estefan."
(I roll off my bean bag in laughter.)

I really need to think of a topic for my stupid English speech. Instead of just sitting around and talking to Chelsea and Betty and reading the course booklet. Perhaps I could actually think of a hero if I put my mind to it. Of course, Chels and Betty both have excellent topics. Chelsea's is Sutton Foster and Betty's is Nadia Comaneci. Both of which are very nice and, you know, noteable. Maybe I will just write about La Mere or CoolAunt.

Oh, and according to Wolfae, I have a cute nose. That made me laugh approximately forever, since I'm not that fond of my nose. When I was twelve, I told La Mere I was going to get a nose job. (She laughed at me.) However, in thinking about it, it does have a really nice scattering of light freckles. And Chelsea hit my sunburn, and we made pee jokes. We are looooosers. In the best way possible.

In theology, we were supposed to be reading about Popey. So, instead, I drifted about and eavesdropped on the other classes I could hear, which was entertaining. I have decided to utilize theology for eavesdropping more often.

At lunch, Kelsey mooed and made other random noises to help Ariel with vocabulary pronunciation. Do not even ask. I also drew a very nice bunny named le lapin. And labeled with a bajillion arrows, all of which said le lapin. Actually, there were only two arrows and I am just losing my mind.

When I arrived in algebra, four ceiling tiles were missing from the front part of the ceiling. ABC explained this to us.
ABC: Well, in CC's seventh-hour class yesterday, you know, she was just up here, talking, and the ceiling... well, the ceiling peed.

Art, where I determined why I don't like art. It's because, for this project, I spend 46 minutes at a time looking at the same piece of paper. It requires more focus than I ever really offer to the class. However, Artsie Tartsie really liked my abstract composition, which is a relief because I thought she wouldn't. However, I still wished I could have done the Copacabana.

I was really smart first quarter. What happened? Actually, my grades are really good so far this quarter, but you get the idea.

So, reading the attendance codes on PowerSchool is hilarious. Here is a small sampling: "CA=Court Appearance", "HT=Hunting" (only in the Midwest), "PO=Power Outage", "WT=Wisdom Teeth." Wow.

The Mona Lisa is getting a new room at the Louvre. I actually only posted that because it reminded me of a story. See, the last time I was at the Louvre, some crazy man mooned the Mona Lisa! It was hilarious! CoolAunt and Joan and I had quite the laugh. Maybe I told this story before, but mooning is just funny.


He Just Talks

Last night was odd. Not funny-odd, but odd-odd, too odd to detail here. But, you know when something happens as a kid, a moment, and it just passes and you don't think it's a big deal, and you never really think about it again? You think that it was just that, a moment, not an event. And then, for whatever reason, you remember this moment and you realize it for what it actually was. It wasn't insignificant, but, rather, truly important, perhaps even that little second where everything changed. I realized that moment last night, out of nowhere, and it's strange. I couldn't remember the event if I put all my willpower into it, into figuring out when did this all change, but then, it just slips in when it's ready. And then you realize how significant little things can actually be.

Or maybe that's just me. Please consider that last night I had a dream involving people I hardly know, the tunnels in the school, hidden doughnuts, and Crush. Crush as in the soda and my actual crush. However, I just saw him for an instant, which is sad. Then me and the people I hardly know when traipsing about the tunnels with a magic key, and then we went to class, which was all wacky and screwed up.

Today in French, so funny, all we did was talk about the differences between Europe and America in the aspects of public transportation, recycling, and holidays. This is only because Pencil Case asked as many questions as humanly possible. Maggie and I now regret not asking about European toilet paper and if it is Wheat Thinny. Also, I can no longer think about a certain mispronunciation of the word graffiti without giggling.

Maggie, at least seven times: Because we put it in our big SUVs!

Kelsey, upon hearing that in Europe you only get one present for Christmas: Well, what's the point of being good if you only get one present?

Madame: In Europe, the kids write letters to Santa Claus.
Pencil Case: So do we!
Madame: But not just asking for stuff.
Pencil Case: Oh, so like, "Dear Santa, How's the Mrs.?"

Pencil Case: And you can decorate the shopping bags, right? You said that!
Madame: No, I didn't. He's making things up. He just talks.

Madame: And we'd go dancing.
Me: What?
Madame: You know, like a disco. Only for teenagers, though.
Pencil Case: Did you ever go to Studio 54?

I have also determined that I am supposed to be European. They do not have an Easter bunny, especially not the one at the Fox River Mall that has hugely frightening pink eyes, and they do not eat ham on Easter.

I still do not have a topic for my stupid English speech. And I hate public speaking. So I just looked at blogs and Moulin Rouge websites all of class. ICP, handing in stupid lab reports. I had 47% error. Which was kind of a relief, because, last night, the first time I did the math, I had 1627% error. In theology, we watched a videotape about Popey. To which I wanted to say, we get it, he's dead.

In lunch, Ariel and I vented about Mr. B-Squared. This was very funny. Then, after half-assedly filling out a service form, struggling with mental math, and trying to think of a very cool name to put down in the "agency" section, I was called "little writer" like it was a derogatory thing. (It was relating to my immense history vocabulary and how we shouldn't use me as a vocabulary standard for everyone else.) Also, I remembered something very funny that Madame said at lunch a few weeks ago about the whole SpongeBob SquarePants being-gay business: "He's a cartoon character. All cartoon characters have girly voices."

In math, we talked about porn. I am not even joking. I wanted to puke. Also, gross things were said in Art (where I actually accomplished something) that also made me want to puke. Now I am on my way to history. Yesterday in history, I was quizzed on my way-extensive knowledge of the Terri Schiavo case. Yay for current events (yes, I am a loser dork who likes current events, because I am also a loser dork who reads the paper every morning and reads about six papers on Sundays) and the CNN ticker and CoolAunt's random ramblings.

Go read the funniest story I've ever read about public transportation.


Feeding Tubes, Nancy Reagan, and Other Stories

That is the title of my spring break. That is right. Spring Break is all about feeding tubes, ladies and gentlemen.

For spring break, I traveled, avec ma famille, to the lovely island of Marco Island, Florida. For those of you who do not know how lovely it is, turn on MTV's Spring Break this week. That is where they are having it, which is the dumbest idea I've ever heard. What are you going to do, rock out with the old folks who have no taste in sunglasses? Anyway, it was a lovely supposed-to-be-24-hours-but-actually-28-hours-thanks-to-traffic drive. Mainly because I listened to my iPod, ate bagels, and repeatedly watched Moulin Rouge the whole way. I have decided that "Le Tango de Roxanne" is the most brilliantly choreographed thing I've ever seen.

Anyway, Aunt Lovely was there for all of a day, but we still had many good conversations as we often do, about varied topics such as family and my freakishly pale skin. CoolAunt was there for three days, bringing us all a great amount of insanity and Terri Schiavo jokes.

CoolAunt, every eight minutes: Is Terri Schiavo dead yet?

CoolAunt's Terri Schiavo impression: I... want... to... liiiive.

(I take off my seatbelt before the car stops fully, so it starts beeping.)
CoolAunt: An angel rang its bell! Terri Schiavo must be dead!
Me: That was wrong on so many levels.

Me: Do you remember when Grandma told you that you have no respect for the dead?
CoolAunt: Well, I didn't watch CNN to hear about Ronald Reagan. And, if you ask me, Nancy Reagan was a little bit dramatic when Ronny died. I mean, come on! He was old! Like she didn't know it was coming!

CoolAunt: I'm going to send you a feeding tube for Christmas.

There was also the incident of the rainy day. It wasn't even really rainy, just cloudy and very windy. Which caused enormously huge big waves. Which triggered CoolAunt, Ricky, and I to go out in the Gulf with boogie boards. It was, of course, great. Until I got knocked over and dragged up the shore through several feet of pointy seashells on my butt. There was a lot of blood and it stung horribly. The actual wound, however, is not on my butt but just below my butt on my right leg, a three-by-six-inch patch of scratches. It actually looks kind of cool.

You can imagine that, for the rest of the week, my family had quite a bit of fun mocking me and my asswound. That was until I got the World's Weirdest Sunburn that has now morphed into the World's Weirdest Suntan. I hate being pale. Anyway, I burnt: the tops of my feet, my ankles, the line where my skin meets my swimsuit, and... my hairline. Who, with all due respect (which, in my case, is none), manages to sunburn their hairline?

In case you haven't guessed, this was not the best trip in the world. In fact, the only good parts were CoolAunt's insanity, the ballet flats I bought at Tarzhjay, watching Moulin Rouge, and watching TV and reading personal ads to mock people with La Mere. The Office might be my new favorite TV show. Any show where people spend several scenes with notecards that say things like "Jewish" and "Jamaican" on their heads has a special place in my heart forever. Also, I love the jingly jangly piano themesong.

(We're watching an Access Hollywood clip from Showdog Moms and Dads.)
La Mere, to the guy on TV: You're gaaaay. (I crack up.) Seriously. Name for me one heterosexual man who would do that for his dog!

La Mere, reading a personal ad out loud: Island Man. 35 year old single white male, loves fishing and boating. Lives on a small island--
Me, giggling: Oh my god. It's Gilligan!

La Mere, reading another one: 37 year old divorced white male. Nonsmoker. Loves Tupac.
Me: You don't need to say anymore.
La Mere: I need to cut some of these out. Because no one is going to believe us.

I'd have to say that one of my least favorite parts of the trip was Das Vater's spectacle of bad jokes. Here is a sampling:

Me: I figure with the whole Terri Schiavo thing--
CoolAunt: Is she dead yet?
Me: Not yet. Anyway, if you are ever in a state like that, where you're just going to be a vegetable if you live, what do you want done?
Das Vater: Well, if I'm going to be a vegetable, I want to be a cucumber. Yeah, because they're more appeeling .
La Mere, at Ricky who is laughing: Don't laugh! It just encourages him!

(We're talking about Ed Gean, that guy who made lampshades out of human skin.)
Das Vater: Did you hear what Ed Gean keeps in his sewing kit?
CoolAunt: No.
Das Vater: Belly buttons!
Me: Wow, Das Vater. Very clever.
Das Vater: Did you hear why Ed Gean was finally arrested?
Me: No, why?
Das Vater: For shipping arms to Russia!

(We see a redneck.)
Das Vater: Ricky, go ask him, "If you divorce your wife, is she still your sister?"

Yes, further proof that not everyone is a comedian, but, rather, everyone thinks they are one. Needless to say, I was very glad to be back in French class this morning, where the people are genuinely funny. Poor Pencil Case has tonsillitis, I definitely hope he gets better soon. However, he was still a barrel of laughs.

Pencil Case: My rabbit is named Kelsey!
Kelsey: Great. I'm thrilled. Really.

Pencil Case: Have you ever eaten duck?
Madame: Oui.
Pencil Case: Haha. Madame eats ducks!

Madame: Okay, people, quiet down. And when I say "people", Pencil Case, what I actually mean is "Pencil Case."

Me, pointing to Pencil Case's "Just Say No" pin: Who do you think you are, Nancy Reagan?

Maggie: I am not the magic bag of wonders, Paul!

Oy vey, English speeches. I realize that I will fail no matter who I speak about, because all my idols either don't do anything heroic or are certifiably insane. So perhaps, as I wrote in the margin of my list of ideas, I will just BS it and write about that gorilla lady Sigourney Weaver played in Gorillas in the Mist or Mother Teresa.

In ICP, I shared the wonder of New York Magazine with Adult Hermione. Mainly because there was an article about Spamalot that she was interested in. Then we took notes and I tried to brainstorm about my English speech at the same time. It didn't work well.

Thankfully in Theology, all we talked about was The Death of Popey, as I call it. This is good because we were supposed to read the Gospel of Mark (or maybe Matthew) over break and I am quite sure that none of us did. Then Toe Touches talked about the USSR and the Cold War, which he blames for everything. We talked about the KGB and I wish Bet had been there.

Lunch, I got to eat and read my New York Magazine and be the grammar darling known as "Kel, honey" or "Kiddo." Yep, I'm awesome.
ABC was a horrid person in algebra and wouldn't give me credit for my assignment because I didn't have work. Which is stupid, because I still did a lot more than all the people who didn't do the assignment at all. I should not be placed on par with them, especially when all the ones that I couldn't figure out in my head had work. Art was not much better. I basically spent the last twenty minutes waiting for it to end. My abstract composition is going to be a piece of crap. I should just make it the Rocky and Bullwinkle or Copacabana that the brilliant Pencil Case drew entirely of seashell shapes in my sketchbook.