Reggie: ... and then let's use Queen, We Are The Champions at the very end.Archaeopteryx, Force is The New Black, and, Thinking Hard?
Tony: I WIN!
Reggie: Excuse me?
Tony: We were talking about which Queen song should end this show and I picked We Are The Champions and everyone else said We Will Rock You and I WIN!
Reggie, Eugenio: Oh Wow
Everyone but Joy: ::general amazement and babbling and excitement::
Joy: snide comment showing her disgust for this waste of time and implying that it's not funny and we should move on. Tony: Joy! ::looks at Reggie to gauge reaction to The Disrespect::
Reggie: ... she learned it from me.
Tony: She learns well.
Joy: I had a good teacher.
These are the days ...
There are four or five shots in Garden State that completely make up for its minor flaws. The diploma on the ceiling helps, too, and adoption from Sally Struthers. Wish I could write more. Cannot remember. I'll go watch it again. Just go see it, and be ready for an onslaught of Style.
Tonight there was Without A Paddle with Cushy, Jordan, and Lars. I poured water on Cush's shirt when he suggested a wet t-shirt contest. Joe tried to climb a billboard. Lars has a pierced nipple, which was the center of much poking and ... stuff. And as I recall, the movie was rather entertaining. Moments of comic genius were present and accounted for. Failings, of course, were mostly glossed over by E.C. Funny: C3PO imitations, living being worth all the sacrifices(to a skeleton), the song chosen for the heterosexual-male-cuddling scene ... I give up. Thinking hurts my head.
It was quite a day, anyways. Chris had dinner over here, which was surprisingly un-stress-ful, but it just got worse. My loyalties are all confused. Unrelated, when I'm lying or pretending lately, my facial expressions can't keep up with my words. They just stop. And I look really incongruous all of the sudden. I just pulled that word out of 8th grade Geometry, in case you were wondering. I feel like a triangle. Anyways. I know it's funny-looking. Especially if you don't know what's going on. Except I just told you all. Shouldn't have. Oh well, whatever. If I'm lying to you, and I fail at pretending, freaking call me on it already. I probably want you to.
This post makes no sense because I'm trying to not say too much in so fucking many different areas. I'm down with that, mostly. If you're not, go read a damn book.
Rowdy Gaines: And here we have Dana Vollmer, who keeps a defibrilator on the side of the pool for her heart condition ...And hilarity ensues.
Mom: Damn. An Olympic athlete, with a heart condition?
Joy: I guess we have no excuses.
Mom: Weeeell ... my problem is more serious. There's no machine I can keep on the side of the pool for Lazy.
Joy: Sure there is.
Mom: What?
Joy: A cattle prod. "You don't wanna go over those hurdles? ::zzzt:: SUUUUURE you do!"
Mom: hysterical laughter
Also, are you boys watching beach volleyball? Girls in bikinis. TINY TINY bikinis. I was slightly disturbed, but very curious to see what the boys might be wearing.
The first two days, as seen from the perspective of How Bad This Year Is Going To Get, have really been lovely. Here's to 176 more just EXACTLY like them.
Dr. Luther: Once, MEH kids had to write a DBQ about poverty ... You know, different attitudes towards poverty. Some people have just decided the poor will always be here, and we should just accept that and give up already. You know, the Republicans.Has anyone else noticed that the teachers are all of the sudden trying to sell their textbooks to us? Apparently, in every class I have this year, I am using the "foremost" textbook on the subject. Usually it's also the "most popular" or "best known" or something else that no one really hears or remembers. They wax lyrical on the benefits of THIS book and that THIS book is worth reading and will really help - as though that's not the intention of every other textbook in every other class. I'm so used to just being handed a big thick book that I can use to, say, provide the weight and the flat surface to press pretty leaves in the fall, and a muttered threat about what happens if I mutilate it in any way. I guess the teachers are more and more afraid that we're going to hand them back and say "this is shit." It's tempting. Physics in particular is horribly written. But I guess if I wanted a well-written textbook, I'd take an English class.My extraordinarly conservative class, best characterized by Kyle Nesbit: nervous laughter
Me: evil grin at The Awkward.
Edit: I have now started reading my English assignment for the evening, and I would like to say that I assumed too much.
Oh, I received A Message From God today: FAs are no more at ORHS! This is God saying, "Gee, Joy, I know you're taking a really tough schedule and, well, I want you to get to enjoy your senior year. So, awww, I'm no good at this kinda stuff ... well, I got you a present." Thanks, Big Guy. Awaiting lightning bolt ... nothing? All right then, I live to blaspheme another day.
Why, why do you always?
Here's to the nights.
So, I receive a nearly-frantic phone call from Holly yesterday, and go over to see what's up. I go in without knocking, call "Hello?" and hear this positively pitiful "haa...aaay" from halfway up the stairs. And there's Holly, and look, she's trapped under a desk. The things I do for you, Roo.
K eiranOHara: holly owes me her first born for helping her move
K eiranOHara: does that mean you?
Oh dear, I've been traded away for a song! (and boy muscles and sweat and probably blood, given the glass on that one damn cabinet, and the fact that the desk had to go to the third floor) Huh. Well, as long as my name's still on the couch, and I can wake up to views of the Sunsphere, no hard feelings.
Did anybody watch the opening ceremonies? The parade of Greek History was like Combined Studies, in color, and with more hot nearly-naked men. I was definitely a fan. I could really get into history if it came like that. OHH, schedule:
Calc IIIn my MEH class are Mark, Logan, and Ashley. Educational? I think not. The most kick-ass class to have as 7th period for my senior year? Why, perhaps it is. I knew all those skirts I've been amassing all summer were going to have SOME sort of use come fall, and here it is - test day outfits! I didn't think I was going to have to have any of those this year, because I wanted French 5 instead of MEH, but apparently I get to dress for success yet again! Good practice for college, I do believe. And I FINALLY have a class with Ashley June! What, five years we've been best friends, and never have we ever ended up in the same class. And senior year, there it is. With Luther, no less. Going out in style.
AP Psych
Physics C
Sr AP English with Carol
Lunch
Bio 2
MEH
Damn, I know I had something else to say, but I really can't recall it now. Ohhh, Shout Out. Check the shirt. That wasn't it, though, there was something else. Oh, and I'm here, too. In the paper. My, my, but I've been a busy girl. Shared and united in. Oh, and as long as I'm at a loss, have some Food For Thought. Bill Clinton could be president again!!
I give up, I have nothing interesting to say today. Better luck next time.
Same song, second chorus.
Over.
Late late birfday party for Owen tonigh, complete with Lunch 03-04, Laura, and Chris. Lovely evening of poker, air guns, card tricks, cruelty to animals, gratuitous inside-jokes and quotage, and ninja-style fighting! Exhibit A on the randomness that is to be found at Owen's house, and the picture doesn't do it justice. Ours were cone-shaped and red and bright blue. And there was extreme air-gun fighting all over the living room, three people shooting, five people ducking. Nothing got broken too seriously, I don't think. Rules were established - because, goodness, without them that game would have been ridiculous! - and dueling commenced. And three-way (hahahaha three-way) dueling was invented, and It Was Good. And then Wesh cheated and no one could aim and someone hit Owen's mom all the way in the kitchen. And it became time to leave and go bother every living thing in Andy's house, instead. But first we ate three trays of BBQ, which was mostly all Warren, and three cans of creme wafers, which was mostly The Damned Asian.
I would like everyone to note that I had a silver flip phone FIRST and now YOU'RE ALL COPYING ME and this upsets me greatly. Don't give me that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery shit, I had The Best phone and now it's .... outdated. It's old. It doesn't take pictures or play Top 40 songs as ringtones, and it doesn't light up colors, and half the time I'm doing good just to get to make a call. I guess that's all I need it for, anyways ... so, FINE. HAVE your snazzy new flippy phones. Line them up next to mine on Andy's coffee table so my poor phone can feel inferior and get insecure about its two-tone LCD screen and its limited ring choices. Just ... just ... flip them ALL OVER the place. See if I care. Yeah.
Savannah. Spectacular. It's a comfort to know that, no matter what is going on in my life, my grandmother will still bake brownies and buy me lottery tickets and Grandpop will refer to me solely as "Sweetheart" and talk to his best friend on the phone every day at 5 and watch the Braves after dinner with a couple of glasses of whiskey and insist that he was only resting his eyes when Grandmom and I point out that he was snoring. I saw a show and got a couple of sunburns and went crabbing (and even caught several, but did not help cook them) and drove the boat for an hour or so on beautiful water. I had a wonderful time, of course, but it sure would suck to marry into the Arcangeli family. I feel so sorry for my mom whenever we go visit - they're just so loud and opinionated and cynical and ... Italian. They're like wolves or hyenas or something, if they sense a weakness, they'll mock you until you beg for mercy or learn to play along. But when you play along ... that's when it's fun.
My schedule. Fucked. What can you do. Tomorrow I find out if anyone else was fucked the same way I was. Also, who is going to share in the suffering that is Senior Year 5th period lunch. 5th period? What is THAT? ::sigh:: I don't want to think about it anymore. I just want to go back and get used to it already.
Oh! Now that it's over and done with, I would like to admit that I was obsessed beyond belief with Outback Jack. To the point, in fact, that I would watch one episode at 9, watch Sex and the City at 10, and then watch the episode AGAIN when it was shown again at 11. In fact, this is why I have finally come to like Sex and the City, after violently despising it the first three or four times I gave it a shot. I watched it first for lack of other options (I get like 7 channels. Shut up!), and became strangely captivated by the 12 ditzy and conceited girls who parachuted into the outback to catfight for a stunningly hot guy (whose name, I am sorry to say, was not actually Jack, though all the girls and his mother had to refer to him as such. That was the only part of the show that I severely disliked.). And I laughed at them, and then I actually started to like them. Some of them. Not Marissa, the pretty, two-faced one who was FINALLY defeated in the last episode (It took a silver bullet). And when Jack picked Natalie, who was *so* sincere and funny and positively adorable ... well, reality TV finally gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside.
And finally, today's thoughts on summer reading:
I saw Fight Club. I finally saw Fight Club. No movie has ever been as much of a punch in the face, a direct uppercut to the jaw, a knee in the stomach, as that one. It makes me want to rip the labels off of my clothes and go on a vandalism spree and just clear it all out and start over again. I, well, I felt like destroying something beautiful.
Of course, I did no such thing. I just sat, leaning forward, in perfect silence for 139 minutes. And I've been playing on IMDB all day, looking for quotes and trivia and little bits I missed. I really should watch it again immediately, but I didn't rent it, Chris did, and he took it away. Selfish. There's really no point in me saying any more about this spectacular movie, because I am The Last person on planet Earth to have viewed it, and it's all been said. Just know that I've crossed one movie off that mental list you all have of movies that you're going to bitch at me until I see. (Yes, I am THAT vain, to assume that I have such a prominent place in your thoughts. And don't say it like it could never happen.)
In a Stupor, still, from an early-morning phone call earlier this week. It's funny how you wait for things and want that lucky day, and it's funny, when the fucking phone rings, you realize that you'd put it out of your head and you didn't want it to and you'd actually had a complete abscence of Thought on this subject until you jerk awake and look twice at the number on the lit-up screen that you're now connected to because you answered, you ANSWERED, and you feel the walls press in, accompanied by a sudden sense of impending doom, a certain twisting in the stomach.
There are some things I will Always remember.
Lunch with the elusive Ryan Moore yesterday. Miss that boy. Have seen him exactly twice since commencement 03. Gypsy, and that awkward meeting outside Ed's room last year. Have also lost all command of subject-verb usage, and I'm not sure how that happened. Oh, there we go, it came back. Slippery little thing, Grammar. Anyroo, I can't blame him for all the explosions in his wake last summer. There's no point. And so, leaving that aside, we had a lovely little catch-up lunch, after I completely didn't recognize him. I'm sorry, would YOU expect him to have a beard? Yeah. Me neither. It's working for him, though, somehow.
Now, packing, Savannah, grandparents, summer reading, and summer's over. Looking at myself in mirror wearing a cap and gown at pictures yesterday ... I wanted to just jump over this year. It's going to be much worse when I finish applications and want to shut down until April. DON'T LET ME. Because I will. But rooo. We're seniors, this time. And even if that doesn't change a damn thing just yet, it means that soon enough, everything will be changing. And I guess that's good enough for me.
We have just lost cabin pressure.
Shoutouts, What's Up.
Re-Select George W. Bush. Paid for by Billionaires for Bush. Oh, and this for dessert, but not until you finish your vegetables. Go Play.
I mean, what's not to like? Ain't been caught driving drunk, lately. Democracy was getting old anyways. Bush/Cheney: 4 More Wars!
and
Defeat Bush Again.
