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


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.


Blogger Pencil Case babbled mindlessly...

I do believe this entry held your very first "Mr. Wilcox, I am Demented!" footnote. Congrats.

If I am the one that cannot speak French very well, then I will be hurt...


4:35 PM


Post a Comment

<< Home