I am in the grades-nine-to-twelve drama. We've been at it for a couple months now.
It's been unbelievably fun. The play's been polished almost perfectly, and we are fan-tastic.
We're doing a local performance tomorrow, then we're taking it to a regional drama competition the day after. We get to watch other plays, and possibly watch other plays getting critiqued. And also go to a dance some time afterwards.
Hey! Wait! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST PRESS THE BUTTON FOR!?!?!?
No, not you. I'm talking to...er....myself.
The button in question is a short story (which I read described as a "bona fide mindfuck" somewhere on the internet) called I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream.
Oh, yeah. Party time.
Anyway, despite the warnings and my own apprehension and the title, I did go and read the stupid story.
I occasionally watch porn. But that's not the point, and isn't really interesting. Or even really unique. I think.
Me and my evil porn-watching ways were discovered by my parents recently, which I think is slightly more interesting. But not slightly more the point.
I'm now on computer probation, and this means that the trained porn-detecting dogs, and beeping porno-scanning devices are out. And they're not going away.
Today's pool of name replacements have been taken from the popular American sitcom "Frasier".
Gil Chesterton here.
I have a friend-who's-a-girl named Daphne who has (what seems like) a long history of being on the nasty end of unreciprocated infatuation.
Her most recent little crush was on Niles, the guy who helped with the lighting in our musical production of A Christmas Carol.
This has nuthin' to do 'bout nuthin'. But it's entertaining and I'd just like to say I concur.
...and I've come to the conclusion:
I am a terrible, terrible blog-keeper.
I'm surprised my account hasn't run away or starved or been run over by a truck yet.
A clip from the Catherine Tate show, from the BBC.
*Tries to do little happy dance in corner...but...can't...because...LEGS ARE TOO STIFF!!*
Which leads me into Remark One:
We had a little back-to-school assembly today.
Near the end, it got around to the bit where you have to clap at the new teaching staff. The first people announced:
Mr. Saman (pronounced "salmon"), and his intern, Ms. Fishley.
I kid you not.
Not after watching this old advertisement for Cadbury's Flake, anyway.
In spite of (and excluding) the fact that I woke up wishing I could run away and join the circus (well, one that sleeps in, I guess) to avoid ever having to wake up that early again, I had a pretty good first coupla days of school.
I got to meet up with a bunch of school-friends, which was fun.
The first little thing was that my family and I went camping for about a week, which I suppose was fun, because I brought my headphones and was able to cheerily and aggressively block the world around me whenever we weren't swimming, (which was fun).
Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against nature. Just the bugs.
...do not enter journal topic if pregnant, suffering from high blood pressure, have had history of...etc., etc.
"Who"--(and imagine this being sung)--"wants marshemellows?"
So goes the only vaguely interesting event that I can remember happening to me between now and whenever it was that interesting things last happened to me, specific dates pertaining to which have slipped my mind right now. If I think hard enough, I might remember them...