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


"I don't get it." -Betty

Hi, Mom.

Today began, slightly drizzle-y, in French class, of course. We asked questions in the past tense and watched Pirates of the Caribbean. Paul and Pencil Case were both wearing purple, Paul a very girly one and Pencil Case a very nice, masculine one, and Paul said my skirt made him feel like he was high. Says the boy wearing Easter-egg pastel purple.

We are starting Romeo and Juliet in English soon. Very exciting, mostly because this means that we are done with Call of the Wild. After English we had the Senior Farewell Mass. I was expecting it to be very sad and to cry, but I didn't, because they actually made it somewhat happy. Swing Choir sang "For Good" at the very beginning, which was appropriate and very good. Betty and I did some whispery fashion critique in the weird space after communion where no one is singing or doing anything interesting, which did not matter because our supervisor was deaf.

Me: That man has the worst haircut I've ever seen.
Betty: I don't get it.
Me: There wasn't anything to get.

Then they sang "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore You" or whatever it's called, and Betty and I reminisced about our good times in the first grade when she taught me how to play this song on the piano at her house. Shortly afterward, we probably played one of our psychotic Barbie games that ended in car accidents and many dead dollies.

ICP was the last day of the lab test (yay, and also, finally) and theology was the usual, meaning we bugged Toe Touches to do a toe touch and he wouldn't. We also called the office, as we do at least once a week.

Lunch involved bickering and scattering and so I actually went to the Commons, which involved:
1. Mispronunciations of food by Vicky. "Spag-hetty" and "poh-tah-toes".
2. Community mashed potatoes.
3. A little bit of sugar and Betty being a romantic.
4. Vicky trying to catapult a animal cracker with her spoon and hitting the wall with the cracker.
5. Maggie throwing animal crackers down Polly's shirt.

During math, people stared at a poster and ABC said, "I have three graduations to attend this year. And I have to be sober for all of them."

Art was approximately the same. Afterward, Pencil Case and I randomly sang the theme song of The Addams Family.

Play practice yesterday was very entertaining, mostly due to Logan doing impressions of Steve and Tom and I talking about people with food-brand names.
Tom: I really want to meet someone who has an Uncle Ben and an Aunt Jemima.

Afterward, I watched another highly dramatic episode of The OC like the rest of teenage America. I was glad that they finally killed a character off, rather than just having him or her move to another state, as they often do when it comes time to get rid of characters.


Blogger Pencil Case babbled mindlessly...

Reasons Why I Hate the Holidays

I just felt I needed to make a list, because my blog has not yet experienced the holidays and I wouldn't want people to get shocked when I spend a month in a half in a general state of pissed-off.

My father works in retail. Enough said.
My mother is, for once in the year, a decorating freak. Three Christmas trees, now, is that really necessary? Well, it is if you're La Mere and it's the holidays.
I detest ham due to an incident during which I regurgitated several ounces of it one Christmas.
It's so bastardized and commercialized.
The music is generally crappy. And overplayed, then forgotten about until the next November.
I hate Thanksgiving with my family because we force ourselves to pretend it is not all about football. This is why we're going down to my mother's family's place this year, because they don't even bother to pretend.
Retail. Bastardized. Commercialized.
It freaking devours shopping malls.
CoolAunt is the only person who sends cool cards. Last year, it included a picture of her dogs dressed up looking like babushka ladies. (Don't ask me what babushka ladies are, but that's exactly what they looked like.)
Three. Christmas. Trees. And the guest bedroom becomes a gift-wrapping station.
There are no longer end tables for me to put my coffee on, because they've been devoured by decorations.
We are often expected, in our families, to pretend to love each other and Experience the Season of Giving.
Which is really just the Season of Bastardization and Freakish Retail and Fugly Decorations.
I might be forced to see Christmas with the Kranks.

Um, Kellie? I liked Christmas With the Kranks.

8:19 PM


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