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


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!!!


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