Hayley: So... I see you've been passed over.
Leah: Yeah. I see... you've been... resurrected?
You may now proceed to the regularly-scheduled blog.
Oh, where to start.
I decided not to write that paper last night, since I didn't exactly have the prompt with me and no one in my class wanted to give it to me on facebook. I wasn't alone, though; the majority of us skipped lunch together to type our fingers off and yell things across the room, like, "What does the Cheshire Cat symbolize?!" And, "I don't know, make a biblical allusion and shut up!" I walked calmly into English fifth period with my newly printed and stapled five-page essay, smiling and breathing deeply. "I'd be more impressed," my teacher said sourly, "if I hadn't watched you write the whole thing in Newspaper." She has a point.
I ran at lightning speed to Borders after school (Okay, I ran at lightning speed to get in my truck, which I then pushed to its 70-mph limit.) in pursuit of Perfect Fifths, the last book in Megan McCafferty's Jessica Darling series. I've been waiting for this baby for what feels like years. I dashed at the display and ran to the counter with total disregard for everything else around me. "Wow. That's pure joy," the man at the counter said, as I smelled it. "Elation," I corrected him, which I'm including in this story to demonstrate how the things I say accidentally to strangers are so much cuter than the things I say on purpose. Anyway, right now I'm on page 48, and I'm already dying in a sea of emotion. The woman is a genius. No other way to put it. I'm terrified of this series ending. If you haven't read Sloppy Firsts, (THANKS FOR THE TYPO CORRECTION, TINA.) I'm letting you know right now that you don't even have the option to abstain. Go. Now. Quickly.
While I was reading and getting ready for choir rehearsal, I received a text from Marlena, en route with Leah to the Perfect Fifths release party with Megan McCafferty herself. They, um, hit another car. I'm sort of freaking out, to say the least. Insurance stuff is difficult and confusing and expensive, and nobody needs that stress, and I really can't stand the idea of it happening to Leah right now. Pray for her, if you pray. If you don't pray... meditate on it or something. Or learn to pray.
With this on my mind, I had to endure two hours of my choir, learning and choreographing cheesy dance moves to a boy band medley. Apparently me and my friend Dina are the authority on NSYNCing, so there were a lot of awkward pauses in which we looked at each other and giggled, demonstrating how to throw your arms open and bob your head to the side. I've been working with this choir director since I was twelve, so I sort of feel like she's my aunt or something. I love and respect her. A lot. But she's very difficult to like. For example, she wears this stupid Britney Spears headset microphone during rehearsals that gets a lot of awful feedback and always falls off her face, and when we laugh or she smells happiness or revelry, she glares with her eyes and smiles this terrifying, joyless grin, waiting for us to stop, daring us to push her further. The funny thing is that my musical director/good friend, Maria, works in the same auditorium and has never required a headset microphone. Nor does she strike fear into the hearts of children.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMANDA.
In youtubely news, if all goes well with the clip I sent him, I'm a part of the much-hyped singing collab Alan (fallofautumndistro) is putting together. I also recently received a comment from Luke of the Ministry of Magic, saying he likes the "italktosnakes Throwdown." Feelin' a little special and a little bit tingly. Oh, and whataboutadam just yelled at me. Not really, but his VEDA video for today starts off with him yipping at those who criticized him for having Molly (mememolly) make yesterday's video. And I'm mildly scared of Ferocious Adam.
I feel like I had all kinds of things to talk about today, and now my mind's gone blank. Probably because I'm in an airport with Jessica and Marcus. I'm going to go take another bath, neglect my homework a little more, and go to bed. Bad mood still nowhere near terminated. Ah.
Sexy: Small, considerate, unrehearsed gestures, like helping you put on your coat or cupping his hands over your ears when you're trying to hear a phone call in a loud environment.
Unsexy: Our new cable box. I was unaware that there was anything wrong with the old one, but I just came home to see an alien cable box in its place under the TV. The worst part is that it looks exactly like the old one, but it's black instead of gray. Like it's evil or something. My familiar cable box gone rogue. I don't know if I'm going to like it staring at me, malicious and dark, in my living room every day. This is something I will probably get over.
Chipotle burritos this year: 11
Days left of high school: 29
Bye, guys! See you tomorrow. <3