Brattiness.

Tis break. Winter break, in fact. What joy is mine!
That's part of one of our choir songs. "What joy is mine today, since I have fallen for you!" Cute, right? Except it's in German, so it sounds like guttural whining instead of an impassioned love song, but that is surely all right. After all, our choir conspires to sing it so beautifully. *eyeroll*
My finals, man. Ugh. I can't believe them. For the AP Chem final, no one got an A. Even Miss Smarty-Sweatpants. The highest score was an 80. Fuuuuuuuu.... I was probably the first person in the history of the entire high school to ever get a zero. -.-
My math test wasn't that bad, but it was. You see?
Oui. I make le sense.
Bleh. I'm so tired. I don't want to go to bed, though. I mean, this is all the chance I have to surf the web and perform other important tasks, all of which are too important and fabulous to enumerate here. I have to watch my hentai, and catch up on redbox, and... (what is that site called? Redbox? No. Red listing? Dream of the Red Chamber? Oh dear. I fear I have just demonstrated my ignorance to the world). What tha heck, I'm not a guy.
Today, Allie, Sonia, and I went geocaching. It was a beautiful experience. We caroled people, much to their chagrin, and whistled at attractive college students (we were on a university campus, you see), and ate until we were fit to bust. Allie bought us all stuff. ♥ Then we found caches! I'm not bad, if I do say myself. I figured it allllll out. Found one all by my little self. Woo! I'm so clever, I should be in a hall of fame somewhere in South Korea. Allie got her license, finally, so she drove us around. It was awesome. I felt very collegiate. All I needed was some Ayn Rand and Pabst (and maybe an ironic spray of facial hair or two). Seriously, what is it with college students and wanting to be hipsters? I find it to be a disturbing trend, myself. I mean, really, why is it all of a sudden good to look like an absolute and complete idiot in front of the whole, cold, mocking world? Oh.... I get it. Being so mocked and despised makes them sad. And then they can write whiny poetry about it and stare soulfully off into the ocean. That's always good for a laugh.
Here is a beautiful hipster sonnet on life and meaning that I have composed just for you. I call it "As Dies My Soul Alas."
As dies my soul, alas
My face looks up above
The only thing that keeps me sane
Is your undying love
I love you more than diamond
Than earth or tree or flame
Just like the carbon in the air
Is your beloved name
I smile with a certainty
Of sadness born of hope
That resolution leads the way
To courage
And a rope.
Oh, that's beautiful. I should publish it. It obviously symbolizes the pitiful state of humanity as a whole thanks to the demons of crude industrialization and decries the absence of empathy in human nature. Obviously. The "carbon in the air" is a... metaphor. Of course. What are you, a scientist or something?
Hmm. I wonder if I did the italics right. Computers are quite confusing.
Ooh. I have le hilarious story. Well, ok, more of an anecdote. And it has not yet concluded itself, since I never really bother to check my phone. But, you see, that is a minor stitch in the fabric of life, and we may move forward from that with hope. A sadness born of it, too. Ok. So, there was this guy from Camp (Not So) Hell who was my first love. Wait.... no. I was HIS first love. There we go. So, he fancied himself a creative writer, which was really quite hilarious, considering the sad specimens that he dug up for me to coo and praise, but I suppose we must not judge. After all, he may have meant to use the word "golden" three separate times in one little sonnet to the moon. Even though when I asked him if he was, he sort of stared at me blankly, hung his mouth opened, muttered "Um" a few times, and shook his head. Anyway, he just randomly texted me a long, dark, deep depressing poem about the darkness of his soul. It was a little strange, actually. If I hadn't known that he was trying to become the next T.S Eliot, I would have swiftly called him and tried to talk him off of the ledge that he was no doubt standing on. But as it was, I was sure that he was merely letting his creative juices flow a bit. Being the kind person that I am, I did not suggest to him that the "darkness" that he was talking about actually referred to the deep, cavernous hole inside his head. I asked him perkily, "Did you write that?" I even included the ubiquitous ":D" face. And the little bugger didn't reply until the next day! I mean, how rude. If you're going to send someone a textual novel, you should at least have the decency to wait around until they excoriate you for doing it (not that I did, because I'm nice)! Although maybe he was bathing his hand in ice water. It must be indeed difficult to type all of that. But even so! If he's that depressed, shouldn't he welcome the chance to be able to talk to someone, even an ugly bitch such as I? (was that even grammatical?) You see, I have a point. He is being an attention whore. Or else, maybe he does have deep issues. I'm going to feel terrible about writing this tomorrow morning. Man, I'm a horrible person. Maybe I should read those other two texts he sent me... they might be bidding me and the rest of the world farewell and decreeing his intention to go and jump off a bridge. Oh dear....
What if he does? I'm actually scared. Where the fudgecake is my phone?
Found it. Let's see.... Oh, here's a new one. He didn't of himself. "How are you?" it reads. How innocuous. How jejune. I was hoping for an undying profession of love. Oh well... that would have been awkward to deal with anyhow.
Oh flizzleshit. Shana just called me. Now I have to call her back. I hate calling people. Man! Unless... Maybe she called before I saw her today, in which case I don't have to. Let us check, shall we? Oh. Wait. 10:41 am? We were in class! Were we not? Unless we were taking our choir final, in which case we were off gallivanting around the city taking pictures.... oh, I get it. That must be it. Yeah.
Man, I have a ton of new messages too. Life suuuucks.... Let's see what my one worthy suitor has to say. "Hey :) wanna go on a date?" Oh, no. That wasn't the worthy one; that was the dumbass. Let's check on... er, Bob. Yeah, Bob. (Isn't there a sexy cartoon character or something after which I could call this man?) D'aww, he thinks I'm witty. D'aww.
I just realized something. I sound like Tina. This is terrible. She is SO annoying! And she's the only other soprano who can actually sing, so she and I are constantly thrown together! Plus, we're both short. And she seems to think that I am her best friend in the whole group (which may be true, considering everyone else's strange antipathy towards her). Anyway. She is not that bad, I suppose, at least when she's singing or keeping her mouth shut. No, I take that back. When she's not talking, she's either picking her nose, biting her nails, or shoving her fingers down her throat, hacking and gagging, bringing her fingers back up covered in something, and wiping it on her pants. It's DISGUSTING. I can't look at her, or I'll start feeling nauseated. But it's pretty hard, because she's so effing loud... man, she's like a fire truck or something! Got a set of pipes, she does. I guess she can't help the way she is. I mean, Speech and Debate will do that to a person. And Anime Club... well, let us not speak of that. Suffice to say that she often comes to school in full cosplay outfit, thinking of no ramifications or dress code policies at all. (Does that suffice to say in the least bit?)
Ho hum. I'm being mean again. I need a good, hard, smack upside the head.
I want to hang out with KiKi. I haven't seen her in a long time. Nor anyone, but especially her. Hmm.
Ooh. I also need to invite Sonia and Allie to New Years. Especially Sonia. I wish I could take her up to San Francisco with me for Christmas too...
Okeydokey. Man. I have no friends.
I need to go to bed. It's two in the morning. I'm too tired, though. And, irrational though it may seem, I have a deep fear that CIA agents will be waiting for me as I go up to my room to ambush me and sell me into wage slavery or make me the assistant bureaucrat to the Secretary of State or whatever it is that malevolent CIA agents do.
I'm so childish.
Ok, I seriously need to go to sleep. What am I even doing up? Obviously, I am typing on this blog. But besides that... ugh, when I start to make outstandingly precocious pieces of rhetoric like the one I have just evinced, it proves that I'm too dumb to spend another waking moment awake. I need to go to sleep. I just don't want to...
Dem CIA agents, man. What am I going to do? This is a problem. Maybe I should have thought this through.
Oh well. I guess I'll watch My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic The Manly Show with Bob Jackson and Buffalo Tuffhide and gather up my valiance to face the dark and frightening aspects of my bathroom.
In the event of my kidnapping by CIA agents, Kitty is to have my clothes.

Awkward Penguin!

This is incredibly awkward.
Incredibly.
And I have the word "extemporaneous" stuck in my head.
Life is beautiful.
So right now, I am sitting, alone and unsociable, on the internet (or rather, at the computer) while in the other room a battle rages. Pawns are being sacrificed left and right, knights are leaping everywhere, bishops are careening around and capturing queens... it's a mess, it really is. I would watch, but that would entail being sociable, and that is something that I am incapable of doing. Apparently. (Seriously, Dad has this whole schtick about how I need to make friends and stop studying all the time. It's very funny. Every time he gives it, which is about twice a day, I feel like the nerdiest nerd on the face of the earth, or else a My Little Pony. Either one.) (Although, it's not like I, you know, watch My Little Pony. Right? Yeeeah. I've just seen... you know, a few clips in passing. Maybe an episode or two.... or the entire first season and all of the released episodes of the second... not too much!) Anyway, where was I?
Ah, yes. Our friend is here.
Very awkward.
AND HE'S STAYING THE NIGHT! GAHHHHHHH!
>.<
Anger.
Ok, time to (awkwardly) eat.
Bye. -.-

Ethan Frome, the Last Douchebag

I'm back from Camp Hell... now I'm depressed because I want to go back. All the men there fell deeply in love with me, and bought me eveeeeerything, and one wrote me a song. Everyone was really nice and smart, and I got a lot better at violin. Now I'm depressed. I want to go back. (Did I already mention that?)
Now I'm trying to get ready to go back to school on Wednesday. It's going to be a pain in the ass... I don't want to get up early! I do want to see everyone again, though. Hmm... what to do? Maybe I should finish my homework.
Bleeeeeehhhh.... why is Edith Wharton such a depressing writer? I can write a novel too! I will call it... "Evan Prome". Here it is. It is very short and will be concluded within these pages (ish).

Once upon a time, there was a depressed young man named Evan Prome. He was depressed because he was taciturn and awkward and could get no ladies like his friend Alcee Arobin could. So he decided to move out to a bleak midwestern town in the depths of New England, because he felt that that was the only place that there would be desperate enough women to take to him. He was probably right in theory, but he approach was sadly lacking. For when he got there, he proceeded to curl up in a drafty garret all day and write extremely bad poetry, talking to no one and never going out except in the dead of night to steal some food from his unfortunate neighbors. This went on for several weeks, until one day he encountered a beautiful young woman while stealing the Caucus family's eggs. Being the bashful and awkward man that he was, he decided to creepily hide behind a tree and see what she would do. As he watched, his jaw dropped in astonishment, because what she did was very remarkable. She was walking around and stealing eggs too! Her technique was flawless. She tiptoed around the yard like a ninja and took every good egg there was to be had. In a few minutes, she was gone. Evan was struck with the first amorous impulse he had ever felt in his life, and in two seconds flat, he had leapt over the wall to go after her. He had hard work keeping up with her, because she was an extremely fast runner and his bike had only two speeds, but he managed to keep her in sight until she pulled up into the Mozart family's yard. Then he lost her, but only for five minutes, when she returned bearing all of their groceries and their AK47 too. She then skipped over to the neighbor's yard, hotwired their pickup truck, and drove away. Evan was entranced! He spent the rest of the week writing poems about her and stalking the Mozart's yard in case she should show up again. Finally, his patience was rewarded! She danced up one night at two in the morning, just as he was about to leave. "You!" he gasped out, trying vainly to catch her by the hand. "Um. What the hell?" she asked calmly, extricating herself and kicking him in the nuts. "you-you..." he moaned, writhing around on the ground in pain. "Will you marry me?" A look of interest crossed the girl's face. "What?" "Marry me!" he repeated, gaining insistence, even as his ballsack began to bleed. "Please! I've never seen anyone who can steal food so well!" The girl looked at him. A rosy flush dawned on her golden cheek, as the iron dark of the midwinter night began to break into sparkling morning. She opened her ruby red lips to speak to him in her mellifluous voice, and already Evan began to hear the chorus of a thousand angels singing in harmony and a thousand bells chiming in silvery harmony, as this goddess of beauty and starshine readied herself to speak the wonderful words that would make her his. Then the door opened to the Mozart's house, and a man stormed out. "WHAT'S ALL THIS???" he shouted angrily, brandishing a rifle. The girl drew her gun, which happened, coincidentally, to be Mr. Mozart's old one. "I'll take you on," she said coolly. "The HELL you will! And is that my old gun???!!!" screamed Mr. Mozart, coming closer. "DON'T HURT HER!!" cried Evan, throwing himself in the way. "And, hey, it's YOU!" realized the irate man. "You're the one what been stalking my family and stealing our food! Why, I oughtta shoot you!" but instead, he shot the girl. She fell to the ground in a streak of golden and scarlet, like lightning over a dark desert valley, like the shooting star that no one sees before it loses its glory in oblivion. As she lay on the ground, her blood pooling around her like the petals of some rich exotic blossom, Evan felt his life flash before his very eyes. What now was there to live for? He looked at Mr. Mozart in his deep, cold, eyes, and said in a voice like icy stone, "You have destroyed me." Then he wandered off forever into the night of blackest despair, never to see the light of day again; his sun had set forever.
The end.

Wow, I'm good. I especially love all the opulent and excessive adjectives. Ooh, opulent. Should have used that one. Her hair of rich and opulent gold and her eyes of sapphire lightning and all of that. Man, I should have been a writer. What am I even doing with my life? Anyway, I can totally write meaningful fiction. Easy as pie. Obviously, their thievery is a symbol of how humans rob nature of its resources and decries the pitiful human condition. Any fool could see that, I mean really!
Maybe I should write my actual homework now. This was fun, but... the homework is due on Wednesday, and this, no matter how satirical, is not. Sadly. So, my friend, I will see you anon.

I'm a lovely little otaku

Friggin fish fingers. I went to Anime Expo. Against my will, mind you. It's not that I don't indulge in a few guilty episodes of Kawaii Desu Moe Power Bunny And Friends late at night after everyone is asleep, but I like to keep it to myself, you know? It's like letting everyone know that you still watch My Little Pony and Disney movies (which I *cough* don't, of course...). Just not done! But nooo. Kitty wanted me to go so much that she willingly payed my entrance fee, and I couldn't say no to that, could I? One should never pass up free stuff, that is a rule of life. So accordingly, I donned my black tutu and my black smexy tank top, decked myself out with chains, safety pins, a hat, socks, my Hello Kitty purse, and eyeliner, and stepped boldly into the hall.
Oh, ok, gotta go to Oakland for a statewide music teacher's association concert! Gotta sing! ROOOADTRIPPP!
Bye.

¡Verano esta aqui!

Vive la summer!!
I friggin love summer. And I have found out that I got a B in math, which would be a fate worse than death in any other class, but in math is a wonderful thing. ¡Que chevere!
Soooo.... as you may have inferred, summer is up and roaring. It is lovely to be able to do whatever I want and not have to get up at unholy hours of the morning just to go and face S-hole one more day. No, I like school. But it does entail facing S-hole one more day.
I went to Allie's house today. We washed her car (I think I'm born to be a maid) and then went on an adventure of urban exploration. We found a tunnel that went under the street and crept in there. It was friggin cool! Although there were no dead bodies. But nothing in life is ever perfect... After that, we put on our girl-next-door personas, bought ice cream, and walked her two dogs down the street to Le Hottie's house. We were debating rather loudly if we should ding-dong-ditch him when the door opened and he stepped out onto the porch looking both confused and high. "WOAH!" I yelled intelligently. "Should we run for it?" asked Allie. "I think so!" I replied. We didn't get the chance, though. He came over to talk to us first. He's actually a very awkward person (although that may have just been because he was high), and he didn't come to market night with us. Bummer.
Oh well. I still have the possibility of a Summer Love with him.
Maybe.
Take me, babyyyyyyy! Or leave meeee! I love Rent sooo much. And Glee. But the Rent version was much better.
Ah, well. These are the days.
Wait, wtf am I talking about? Sheesh. Maybe I'm second-hand high. That would actually be interesting. Hmmm.... I must ponder this carefully.
BLOODY FUCKING HELL! This effing douchedongler has to be the MOST ANNOYING PERSON IN THE WORLD! Let us set this straight right now: I am a fucking playtoy! Er, that sounded rather superficial and sexist. Um... let us rephrase that. I am the fucking friend with benefits!! (Much better) That means that I don't have to devote any time or effort to the relationship! I can merely waltz in and suck his dick whenever I feel like it (i.e never) and come and go without a care! I need not write sappy love poems or songs extolling his muscular eyebrows, and I need not meet his family and coo over how exquisitely shaped his mother's meatloaf salad is! I am free to do as I please, and so, in fact, is he! We need not have chemistry together (or any other class for that matter) and we need not spend time on each other. If we wish to have a little sexy loving, all we need do is pull out our phones and send a quick texty-poo. No need getting all invested over this! That would just be weird!
...But sadly, he is. He seems to think that I need to be all girlfriend-y. Ew! Liek, OMG. That's, like, gross.
Oh, guess I better go study. Because I'm taking four AP classes next year.
S-hole is taking only two (and honor's math).
SUCK IT!

stupid men.

Why can't the stupid cunt just leave me the fuck alone? It's like he thinks the world is going to end if he doesn't text me five times a day. So ridiculous. I used to just ignore him, but now I can't because he goes all whiny and says things like "o i c u r busy 4 me :(" and "y u dont text me back i'm sad i miss u :(". I assume "o i c u r busy 4 me" translates to "I perceive that you are too preoccupied with carousing and enjoying yourself in various debaucheries to pay attention to your worthy suitor", but I have no real way of knowing. All I know is that he makes me apologize for things that are sure as hell not my fault. And he's dead boring. And as stupid as shit. He seems to divine pleasure from saying "i miss u so much i miss u i wan 2 c u so much" and "when r u open i miss u" for hours. It seems to be the only thing he knows how to say, which is actually very sad, but I suppose everyone has their own methods of amusing themselves... I just wish his didn't involve the unfortunate moi. Oh, here's another text. Let's see what the brilliant boy has to say!
"well we can hang out for an hour and a half? :)" he says. Can we? Hmm.... Let me think about that... I believe I have told him on multiple occasions that I can't do anything until summer break, which is six friggin days away, but he insisted so much that I finally gave in and told him that we could "hang out" for a small amount of time on Saturday evening. A tiny bit of time! Like half an hour. But he's so pigheaded and selfish that he insists on this much! I'm so pissed off. I wonder if he wants to get it on. He keeps saying he does, and how he wants me to be his "first", and how much he wants to kiss me (with invisible quotation marks around it, over course). Apparently I'm cute and sexy and I can turn him on. That's nice and all, but I'm also sixteen. But what does it matter when one is in love? Love is what makes the world go round, after all! Without it, there would be nothing! Nothing but cynicism and scientific explanations, and what right-minded romantic wants that? Imagine, instead of having Elton John drive up to your window on a tractor holding a bouquet of roses and a guitar, you would have a white-robed chemist mixing up a batch of stem cells in a stark and hygienic lab. Kind of destroys the bubbly, heartwarming aspect, does it not?
Oh. On being asked what his plans were for our "date", he replied "the possible way? ;) u kno?" Now, I hate to be the bearer of unfortunate tidings, but I do NOT know. I ask you to tell me, not as an infatuated, hot, and bothered girlfriend to a thrilled admirer, but as one curious, inquiring mind to another, what in hell does that MEAN? I'm so confused. Does he mean that it is possible that we could get it on? Does he mean that the only possible way for it to end would be in winky-winky quotation marks fun? Or that he might possibly dies of anaphylactic shock before Saturday, therefore letting me out of my obligation? Hmm. Thus are the mysteries that I am forced to ponder.
I just wrote "Maybe... n.n". How's that for ambiguous?
...I hope I didn't just sell my soul or my firstborn child or my virginity or something. That would kind of suck.
Oh, wonderful, el pater is home. Let's see what he wants.
He wants respect. Hmm... I wonder if I'm capable of that function... I think I lost it a good while ago.
Besides, he made me turn off my Marilyn Manson and Sisters of Mercy. That's got to be enough to get anyone's goat.
Oh, and he put me in an arm lock and spat on my face. Nice, non? That is the kind of family I live in.
The saliva shower may or may not have been unintentional.
Sexy shit, I'm pissed off. I want to go to a rave or drink inordinate amounts of hard liquor or get pregnant or something! Maybe all three. Noo, better not. The alcohol might interfere with the pregnancy. I have to be thinking about the future here. I guess I'll just listen to Slayer. That's better than nothing, right?
It's odd how Dad seems to think that nice, innocent music like Evanescence or Paramore will make you kill yourself and his subversive and evil and a tool of the New World Order government, but Cannibal Corpse and Behemoth are perfectly okay. I don't understand it, myself, but that may be because I am too "slow".
Or was it because I have no musical talent, sense, or ability? I forget.... It's so hard for my less than superior brain to hold on to facts, you know. Mind like a sieve, attitude like an MMA fighter. Kind of a problem. Maybe I should go to bodyguard school.
Oh, merde. The stupid idiot can NOT take a hint. "I'm about to leave for volunteering", I told him. "Can't talk long", I told him. But what does he do? He sits there and makes me talk to him for fourteen years while he details how much he wants to see me! RIDICULOUS. You want to see me so much, why don't you let me study and pass sophomore year so that I can graduate on time and be free to hang around your horrible self all day instead of spending every waking moment trying to get my GED? Dumbass. I really don't like him that much.
You know the idea that college students are practically too busy to take a shit? It's BS. Dammit, I'm sick to death of this. I wish I could just retire to LA and never have to deal with this again. Maybe I'll become an esoteric stripper. I can seductively slide down a glitter-encrusted pole and recite Socrates and Plato to entranced college professors and sophomoric graduate students and try to save up enough money so that I can get a degree in metaphysical philosophy. Sounds like a plan! Almost as lucrative as professional orchid growing!
Well, actually, no. There might be a market for that.

Dubstep sucks-step!

Holy hell, that's one G-D big ass heart!!
Sexy shit, I friggin love Glee. ♥ and those men.... mm-MM!
I took the AP exam today. I apparently can't discuss the essay questions, so I shan't, but... just know that one was contrasting two movements that rhyme with "blenlightenment" and "bwomanticism" and the other one was talking about how the countries of Europe could do something that rhymes with "bwoonite".
Damn, I think I should be a spy. I'm so good at disguising things.
Anyway, I think I did well on the exam. The DBQ was the best one I've ever written, and I actually finished my essays! Both! I put down my pen just when they told us too. I'm so good.
Ok, it's the next day.
I have some shameful news: Zac has grown addicted to dubstep. I know not if he can truly now be considered one of the family. Here he is, blasting "Herbalist" and extolling the virtues of rave backbeats while I'm trying to hold on to my sanity. So shameful.
One of our violin students, a mere fourth grader, has managed to memorize all fifty states, the capitals, and their locations on the map. I don't know how he did it. I can barely remember what state I live in most of the time (denial) and where it is on the map (a river in Egypt). I do, however, know the countries of Europe, their capitals, languages, and national flowers. I'm such a boss. Yeahhhhh, buddy. Uh-huh. Yup. I'm awesome.
Sadly, the only ones I can find on a map are France and Poland. (and Italy because it looks like a boot and England because it's an island.)
And questions about things like this ALWAYS show on practice tests and things! Seriously, I hardly even knew Montenegro was a country, let alone where it is. Why can't we just answer questions about France and Poland for all eternity? That would be so much easier. Oui.
I think we have students coming. Isn't that terrible? Tis the only way I have to earn a living. If I didn't work my ass off to teach these ungrateful little brats, I might have to be out on a street corner dealing drugs to ungrateful white brats! And that would suck. I see enough Hollister at school, thankyouveryeffingmuch.
I think this is slowing down the computer.
I shall publish.

Easter Eve

Goodnight, demonslayer, goodnight.... *closes eyes dreamily and sways to music*
I love Voltaire! Squeal!
Oh mannnn..... Chatty The Chubby Chipmunk wants to go on a "date" and I really could do without him. But, ok. As long as he keeps his ginormous mouth closed. I mean, that thing is HUGE. It's like, the size of New York City mixed with S-hole's ego (and that thing is damn enormous!). Perchance I should sing him a heartfelt rendition of Trouty Mouth. "Troooouty mouttthhhhh... fishhyyyyy lipsssss.... is that how people's lips like.... where you come frooooommm.... in the South?" The only problem would be his probably negative reaction to this impromptu serenade. I mean, what if he decided to open up his immense gob and swallow me whole? I don't think I'd like that very much.
Well, there could be worse things, I suppose.
What, I'm not sure. But something.
Well.... it's that time of year! Tour is coming up on Thursday. Do you know how stressful this is for me? The fact that the group's failure will rest singlehandedly upon my shoulders unless some kind of miracle of amazing proportions occurs does not really do much to bolster my confidence. Also, the girl who is singing my solo is SUCH a bitch! She is the bitchiest bitch in bitchdom! And she's really not very pretty at all. And she's not too bright. And she sounds like a belching bullfrog singing Rebecca Black and dying of gastrointestinal distress when she sings. How the hell did she get the solo? And why the hell am I the understudy? It's not like I'm that great either. Although I'm sure I could do better than she (and I know this because I did, sight reading). Although, to be fair, anything would be an improvement over her soulful croaking.
And don't even get me started on her fashion sense! Damn, she looks like a prep. In fact, she IS a prep. That would explain it. She once wore this hideous flowered muumuu with triangles and squares and hexagons and geometrical formulas and who-knows-what-all in shades of brilliant orange, green, blue, black, purple, white, and puke. It was sooooo ugly! And to make it even uglier, she wore it with footless leggings (in black) and Toms.
Sexy shit. I friggin loathe men.
I swear, as long as I live, I will never grow up to be a man.
Wait....

I sound like I'm from Jersey Shore.

I'm waiting for Sonia to get back from going out to eat with her family so we can go out somewhere. She totally misses me (and Allie). Of course, I miss them too.
Gah. Anna's party is tomorrow, and I swore I'd go (and give Allie a ride too) but I'm supposed to be going out with stupid f-ing Bradley at the same time! It's ridiculous! I much prefer Anna to Bradley, but I already agreed to.... wait, no, I told Anna in AP Euro a couple weeks ago that I'd go to her party. HELL YES! No more fuckin Bradley! Er. Not that I really would fuck him. He's hideous. And fat. And white. And therefore disgusting. But it's the principle of the thing.
Why do I get picked up by so many guys?
Weird.
Maybe the school is inhabited by chubby chasers.
By the way, I'm not cheating on JTJ because he hardly ever texts me or anything. The most romantic thing he did recently (besides kiss me) was sharing his math book with me during second period because I had "forgotten" mine. (The thing is damn heavy. No way I'm carrying that all over campus all day. Especially with Palmer. Not that I actually do carry Palmer, but...) So you see? He is not into me and I am, er, not into him. Yeah. That's right.
OH! Did I write about our lovely date? I must needs check.
I mentioned it, but I didn't write in detail.
*swoons*
Ok. Think I'm good now.
So, he picked me up at my house, right on time! Squee! I do so love that trait in others, as it so rarely is evidenced in myself! He was wearing his leather jacket, and da-a-a-a-a-a-amn, he looked fine! I just about passed out right there! Of course, I didn't look so bad either. I had on my little pencil skirt (which I am coincidentally wearing now), tights, my purple camisole top (attractively tight and low, but not so much as to look like Lucy The Slut), my denim jacket that makes me look like I'm in a gang whose emblems are rhinestones, and black flats. I even curled my hair! And I was only wearing lip gloss and eyeliner! I was being so modest, I felt like a nun. People were probably wondering why I was out of the convent. Anyway, so we went off (in his mom's car! LMFAO!) and I unfortunately had to meet his scary mom and brother. Why WAS his bro there anyway? Did he want to meet the pathetic girl who would date his fickle fraternal family member? Or did he just want to spot him some booty? He looked like he hadn't seen any (except for Link's from the Legend of Zelda) for years. Possibly decades. Or at least one decade. He didn't look very old. I think he was about thirteen. The mom was really nice, but scary. Probably because she was so nice. It was kind of freaking me out, I mean, usually I meet up with parents who will do anything to put you out of the spotlight, including (but not limited to) poison, hitmen, and transcribed music for Baby for string quartet and solo oboe. But this lady was all over me asking about my schedule, hair color, genealogy, mother's maiden name, and social security number. Maybe she wanted to impersonate me. Anyway, we got out, and went to market night. It was really fun, and it helped that people seemed to think we were a couple. KYAAHH! ♥ ♥ ♥ then we went to Gourmet Pizza and he bought food for me. TURN ON! (Not the food, the fact that he bought stuff for me) we talked about random stuff, and he's interesting! He's actually interesting! I could weep tears of blood and joy! HE'S FRIGGIN INTERESTING!!! So then we saw a movie, and he held my hand on the way over ♥ and then we went home. He walked me up to the door, and then kissed me! I didn't think he had the nerve, but he did, and it was friggin weird, because I actually liked it! Whenever I thought about it afterwards, I got that gooey feeling (not in THAT way! Fuck you!) and got all blushy and shit. Kind of embarrassing to admit, but I'm blushing even now writing this. It's like a month later, get a grip! Sexy shit. But then he texted Allie to tell her that he had fun (and I did too) and yeahh..... It's kind of weird. Allie has been like an agent for both of us, working behind the scenes. I feel bad for her. Also for Sonia. Like, for sure. When the guy you loved for months suddenly asks out your best friend without her lifting a finger, it's got to suck. Although I don't know. I've never been in that position. But I must speculate.
Actually, he's been talking to her more now that he's been talking to me.
Good, right? Or something.
HOLY HELL, I JUST REALIZED SOMETHING! Maybe he's doing it to get close to me!!!
*SLAP*
Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine. You are Le Idiot Extrémee if you actually believe that. Get that thought out of your brain.
Oh, ok, Sonia's home.
Gonna go hang out with her then.
Bye love.

ramblings on a fine and sexy man

I am completely energized from choreography now. I'm very bad at it, but I do derive a certain measure of entertainment from blithely leaping and bouncing atop the risers careless of time and place. So if I cause us to lose the competition, I shall at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I had a good time.
...Who am I kidding, I fuckin hate it.
So! Have I explained in full and descriptive detail my date with JTJ? *licks lips salaciously* Dayy-umm, that man is FIIIIIINE! He got an ass like ME! Wait, what?
So! The day after Valentine's Day (I got 10 valentines, by the by, NOT to brag or anything, just stating a pertinent fact), as I was walking with Allie from AP Euro to math, I stopped to put my folder into the choir room. (I had taken it home to learn my solo for Madonna as I am le understudy grande. FUUUUUUUUUU-) anyway, where was I? Oh yes. So as I was leaving, I tripped on something in the doorway. What could it be, I wondered? Slowly my eyes traveled up the length of a strangely familiar object. What was it? Oh yes, a leg. That's what it was called. And what was this spectacular leg doing here in my path to the sidewalk? Obviously, it was... at that particular moment, I lost my train of thought as I realized that attached to this leg was JTJ, and he was looking remarkably fine. "Hey," he said. "Gnnnnfrrgggh" I replied with alacrity. "What's up?" he continued. "Um...." said I, trying desperately to recall some of the tips in Cosmo for talking to extremely sexy guys. Was one supposed to flip one's hair and then cross one's legs, or the other way around? And did not this sequence of events necessitate a sitting position first? I realized it had been awhile since I had said anything. "Not much, you?" I asked suavely. Wonderful, he probably thought I was a moron. "I'm ok," he said. Well, this conversation was getting nowhere fast. Where the hell was Allie? Surely she would have something to add.I turned to my left, only to collide with a very startled looking Bonnie. "Hi," she said awkwardly, before running off to chitchat with HorseFace, probably about the wonderful Speech and Debate and Masturbate Club D'La Moronne. (Seriously, why do they like it so much? They are totally obsessed. It doesn't take mad skills to stand up and tout your own intelligence for half an hour! Talk show hosts do the same thing! And for much more pay, too.) "You busy on Thursday?" asked JTJ in his wonderfully sexy voice. (Actually, his voice is as annoying as fuck, but that doesn't make this story sound like a rejected romance novel from the 1970's, so let us gloss over that minor detail) "Not really!" I replied perkily. I knew what was coming, of course. Enough guys have asked me out that even I can see the signs. Plus I watch Glee. "Wanna go do something?" he asked, still trying to affect the "smooth" voice that would undoubtedly tug on my heart strings. It was certainly tugging on my patience. "Sure!" I said again, sounding like a hybrid between a cheerleader and an anime character. "Awesome," he said, and drifted off. Well! Welllll.... I floated over to Ivy and Allie, who may have for all I know been discussing world peace or the cure for cancer or the new album from My Chemical Romance or something equally wonderful. "Phweeehheeheheheeeee..." I sang. "I, he, that is, asked, I me, he..." "He asked her out," explained Allie, who had apparently been forewarned of this plan. "Yes, we, me, he... DAMN, HE IS FUCKIN SEXY!!!" I exploded at last, lacking milder words to express the joy in my soul. "When?" asked Ivy tersely, not impressed by my eloquence. "Thursdayyyyyy..." I sang again, then fell immediately to deciding what to wear. "Black? Or black and red?" I asked. "Or maybe nothing at-" "JASMINE!" interrupted Ivy conveniently. "This is so exciting!" chirped Bonnie, who, it appeared, knew of this as well. "I know, isn't it?" said Allie. "Jas has finally got a real man!" "Is he a REAL real man, though?" asked Karen seriously. "I heard he was totally gay." "Then why would he ask Jas out?" demanded Anna. Sexy shit, did the entire school know about this escapade? "Oh gosh..." I gasped. "He isn't just using me to prove his sexuality, is he?" "You'd certainly be good for that!" said Bonnie with a knowing wink. I knew it was a mistake to tell her about the Austin-cherry-popping-dick-boob fandango. Now the entire Speech team believes me to be a slut. (Actually, that's not really a new phenomena, so I shouldn't be worried) "No, he's not like that," said Anna reassuringly. "I think." Gee, thanks, hun. You really helped me out there. By this time, we had gotten to math, so we had to let our cheery gossip wait until Chem when Eva ambushed me. "Did he ask you?" she demanded. "Yeah, he-" I started to say, when a loathsome voice cut me off. "Whaaaaat's this? Jasmine got asked ouuuuuut? I didn't know the mental hospital had a visiting day!" It was Monsieur Le Pothead. "I guess they did, otherwise you wouldn't be here, right?" I asked him. He had to think about that one for a minute. "Um. Go die." he offered at last. Pot has a way of altering one's brain cell function in a deleterious manner. Poor boy, I must have wounded him deeply. It was a whole minute before he started asking me for my answers to the stoichiometry problems.
Still. La la, I'm happy!
Actually, no. After our little date (he even kissed me! Kyaah! And he's really bad at it! Tee hee!) he hasn't really talked to me much. So he probably finds me irritating.
SEXY SHIT! Speaking of irritating! Are ALL MEN so fucking OBNOXIOUS???!!!! Dad is being a total prickbag right now! Totally stupid. He is so ungrateful! I can't believe he has the temerity to try and dictate Mom's actions after she has done everything for him! Ugh, now he's trying to spy on me. Wonderful. I just love men, don't you?
Ok, I think I'll go eat a whole bunch of stuff and get fat as shit and be so unattractive that JTJ will hate me forever. Cause that's everyone's dream scenario, right?

Yeah, it's short. Eff you.

Killer queen ♥
Hell yeah, that's me.
...I wish.
Dammit! I scored a date with Le Hotpot (HP) but after that he didn't really blow up my phone with texts, so I didn't text him back and he never said hi to me in AP Euro OR math, and so I think he hates me now! SEXY SHIT! The one effing time I get asked out by mi amour, he turns out to bear a deep grudge against my boobs! (Or something. I mean, he's a guy, so he should naturally think of me as sex in a skirt. Actually, that should be my new nickname. Sex-in-a-skirt. I like it! It has a more positive connotation than Le Stupid Cunt, which is the nickname I had previously been using for myself ever since the start of freshman year. More classy, don't you think?) Anyway, that's actually quite a problemo. He never made lewd comments fornication-ward, and never told me in exquisite detail the many attributes of his cock. Should I be worried? What the heck, of course I should. Besides the fact that he obviously does not like me, he may quite possibly be gay. Actually, I think he might be. He certainly acts like it. (Smart, hot, sexy, witty, nice, etc) Oh! Speaking of gay, I am almost absolutely certain that CTC and A are. I saw them smooching after class today and K said she saw them getting hot and heavy behind the risers after choreography. Day-ummm! What will happen when they break up? When CTC breaks up with A that is. She dated five guys in one month. That's worse than me! For a freshman, she sure gets around! Cough*slut*cough.
Maybe I shouldn't be badmouthing my own choir sister.
Wait, I'm not! Being a slut is a GOOD thing! Exhibit A, me!
Ok, bye.