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My parents have decided to torture my sister by sitting in the front row tonight. Erg. They did that to me once- Nida nudged me and then pointed to them waving like maniacs- it was embarrassing. Legolas is refusing to sit with us, choosing instead to sit in the back with Fonny Boy. He keeps Fonny Boy talking in hopes of sooner or later deciphering his speech patterns. (Fonny Boy*, you see, talks backwards over his left shoulder. *From “Isle of Dogs.” Hysterical book. Go read it.)
Legolas finds Fonny Boy fascinating.
I find Legolas finding Fonny boy fascinating fascinating.
Fonny Boy finds treasure fascinating.
It’s a vicious cycle.
---Later---
Still in front row. Parents will not listen to me or to reason. This is one of those rare times that Reason and Myself happen to share the same opinion, but they’re thrilled with the seating arrangements as is, so I guess that’s it.
Now they’re talking about corned beef. Ew.
---Later---
Mrs. Johnson, the photo teacher, is over by the door. I wonder if she remembers me? Probably not.
There’s this guy behind me having a conversation with some woman. This is what they said.
Guy: “…You know that Sandman, right. Only way he’s leaving is in a pine box. Give ‘im the Mussolini treatment- hang him by his feet from a lamp post! Heh heh!”
Woman: “My daughter’s in the Navy. She wanted to be a nurse but they put her in the nucular area instead.”
Guy: “You mean nuclear.”
Woman: “The President said nucular.”
I hate this town.
---
Here comes the Girl’s Chorus, trooping in in lots of sandals.
~~~ You know, we’re going to miss the war starting. The first bombs are going to start falling as the girls are singing “When You Believe” from the Prince of Egypt. I find that some kind of ironic.
As usual, they’re all wearing way too much makeup for fifteen year olds and have plucked most of their eyebrows off.
Legolas finds Fonny Boy fascinating.
I find Legolas finding Fonny boy fascinating fascinating.
Fonny Boy finds treasure fascinating.
It’s a vicious cycle.
---Later---
Still in front row. Parents will not listen to me or to reason. This is one of those rare times that Reason and Myself happen to share the same opinion, but they’re thrilled with the seating arrangements as is, so I guess that’s it.
Now they’re talking about corned beef. Ew.
---Later---
Mrs. Johnson, the photo teacher, is over by the door. I wonder if she remembers me? Probably not.
There’s this guy behind me having a conversation with some woman. This is what they said.
Guy: “…You know that Sandman, right. Only way he’s leaving is in a pine box. Give ‘im the Mussolini treatment- hang him by his feet from a lamp post! Heh heh!”
Woman: “My daughter’s in the Navy. She wanted to be a nurse but they put her in the nucular area instead.”
Guy: “You mean nuclear.”
Woman: “The President said nucular.”
I hate this town.
---
Here comes the Girl’s Chorus, trooping in in lots of sandals.
~~~ You know, we’re going to miss the war starting. The first bombs are going to start falling as the girls are singing “When You Believe” from the Prince of Egypt. I find that some kind of ironic.
As usual, they’re all wearing way too much makeup for fifteen year olds and have plucked most of their eyebrows off.
*quakes in her shoes*
Feb. 11th, 2003 11:47 pmOkay, you guys. We’ve been upgraded to Code Orange. In case of a nuclear event, cover your doors and windows with plastic wrap and duct tape and have your battery-powered radio turned to wait for the government to reassure you that you are not going to die a slow, painful death with nothing but two cans of spam and a case of Evian by your side.
Duct tape vs. nuclear power.
Bets, anyone?
For fuck’s sake. Why don’t they just give Saddam and Dubyah a couple of swords and have them duel? They could slash each other to pieces and save the world the trouble and psychiatrist bills of taking care of their penis envy issues.
Someone wake me up if the world comes to an end or the war starts for real, okay?
Night.
Duct tape vs. nuclear power.
Bets, anyone?
For fuck’s sake. Why don’t they just give Saddam and Dubyah a couple of swords and have them duel? They could slash each other to pieces and save the world the trouble and psychiatrist bills of taking care of their penis envy issues.
Someone wake me up if the world comes to an end or the war starts for real, okay?
Night.
