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


I'm gonna write you a dimension!

Oh, picture day. Not fun, not fun. And they only took one picture instead of two. That kind of leaves a lot of room for error. Oh well. Did I mention that I got my Fall Fest dress in the mail yesterday? Exciting, exciting.

But no Chels again. That made me so sad. And no Alex at lunch. Seriously, this caused a hollow in the pit of my soul. Two of my partners-in-crime gone amiss? I could hardly handle it. I love them too dearly.

In Geometry, we did logic things. Oh gosh fun stuff.

Mr. H: Well, we have to say "not a boy", because in this day and age, "not a boy" does not necessarily mean "a girl."

History. Oh, worksheets and crazy things that make no sense.

Mrs. Campbell on something she put on our sheet that made absolutely no sense: Well, I'm going to tell you what I was thinking. Because, you know, you care so much.

[Mark throws a paper ball into the trash can perfectly and makes it.]
Mrs. C: That was pretty cool. Actually, I have a story about that. Do you guys remember Mr. Hietpas? Well, once, one of my kids did that and missed and threw it in the hallway accidentally, so Mr. Hietpas comes in and screams at my entire class to not throw things in the hallway, with me right there. It was pretty embarassing.

Theology is simply ridiculous.

Nick: There aren't that many people here who do drugs.
Me: Um. Are you naive?

English = me writing sarcastic essays about Puritans. Always a fun time. But not so much a fun time without the Chels. Le sigh.

Hello, French class. What a class.

Madame: I'm going to write you a dimension.
Everyone: A dimension?
Mike: What are you gonna do, draw a graph or something? A dimension?
Madame: A demerit, a detention, a dimension. Same thing.

Okay then.

Madame: See, Benjamin. You need to work. Kellie can talk because she will get her project done and probably do more projects. You will probably not finish.
Pencil Case: That is favoritism!
Madame: No, it's not. It's the truth!

Oh, and Madame approves of my new career choice. That makes me quite happy. And she will approve of Pencil Case when he "finds himself," too.

Madame: Well, just so you know, teaching is fun, but you don't get paid anything.
Me: Well... I'll just marry rich.
Madame: Yeah, that's what I said. Look what happened! (Crazy evil laugh.)

Comp Lit: Oh my good golly gosh. Apparently Mrs. Pease/Carrots/Night Vision has a problem with the fact that I type quickly and accurately. Seriously. We had to type these two paragraphs from our workbook, which I finished in about two minutes.

Mrs. Pease: Kellie, delete the last paragraph and re-type it with the monitor off.

(I do it without error.)

Mrs. Pease: Kellie, delete the last sentence and type it now.

(Holds a sheet of paper over my hands so I can't look at them. Again, I re-type the last sentence without error.)

Mrs. Pease, running out of things to freak out at me about: Well, it would be better if you didn't cross your legs and kept both your feet on the floor, but okay.

Um. Excuse me. What?! She is obviously jealous of the fact that I am an excellent typist, even with my legs crossed.


Blogger Pencil Case babbled mindlessly...

Um, pretty sure that was Brooker trying to be French and laughing his favorite HAGH HAGH HAGH laugh.


1:52 PM

Blogger Kellinka babbled mindlessly...

Oh Brooker.

2:11 PM


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