16:21 p.m. - 2004-02-13
Alentine's-Vay: The Hallmark Day
You nagging sons of mothers!
Well, no that's not true.
Yes, you have mothers, and yes, some of you may be sons, but I haven't heard any nagging out of you at all. That's very courteous of you all. No credit for you tho.
I'll skip straight to the point, I guess, if there is one.
Well, no point, off I go then! Ta ta!
....You won't let me go that easy, I didn't think so.
Well, to tell the truth things have been happening. I just choose to leave you in the dark about most of them. Don't hold that against me, it's not stuff you'd find that interesting anyway.
My grades plummetted to an all time low a couple of weeks ago when I got that insane notion in my head that because my teachers are idiots I have the right to slack off. Lose that one real quick, kiddos, does absobloominglutely nothing. Just gives you bad grades and bad excuses for them. So I struggle *like a rabbit in a sandhill to get out of that rut.
(*You'll only see this analogy in one other place and that's Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. And it makes even less sense there.)
It isn't a deep rut though and I am pretty big for a rabbit so I'm making along fine.
Tomorrow, as you probably have heard, is Single's Awareness Day. Yes, you heard about it. You just heard it called by it's other name: Valentine's Day. I have been told some interesting things concerning the origin of this holiday:
One: It was a Catholic Saint's Day, errected to honor this dude in roman times who became a martyr to save two Christians who wanted to get married.
Two: It was errected in honor of some dude who was a prisoner and he had a thirteen year had a thirteen-year-old girlfriend who he sent letters to from jail. Possibly Catholic doings, I dunno.
Three: The Evil Lord Hallmark made up something that sounded romantic and put a flimsy myth behind it that few people would ever find out, in order to make single people feel like rubbish while at the same time gouging America's pocketbooks and rebasing thousands of relationships on the shifty legs of materialistic pleasures.
Ah, Hallmark, you old fiend, you.
Okay okay, there are a few of you who will probably turn away in disagreement and think that I am a cynical individual who does nothing but complain and make wit out of mundane subjects.
And I quite possibly am a cynical individual witha knack for worn out complaints, but you still have to admit that while it's a whole tub of fun for some people to celebrate something just for the sake of celebrating...Well, come on.
Now, maybe I'd be a bit giddier about it if we got out of school for this "Valentine's Day". It can't be that important, we don't. And I figure that some people just have to appreciate it because they already bought a bunch of stuff and would feel like morons if they didn't have what they thought was a good reason to have done so.
Folks, why do ya need an excuse to buy presents for people? Is it just easier when we give you a deadline? I love bestowing goodies on my little faction. It makes my mouth do that cool thing, you know. Smile. My face feels wider and my chapped lips sting a little because they're stretched out more, and I know that I am happy.
Sounds really sardonic, I'm sorry. It really does fill my heart with glee.
But my troubles were more numorous than pathogens when I triedto buy a present for each of my friends last Christmas. And I still haven't delivered them all. I'd MUCH rather just buy these things randomly and surprise people, rather than the whole trouble with letting them down when you aren't punctual with something or you forget, or the tedium of knowing that something is expected of you and that that something is within a pretty limited spectrum of other "somethings". Candy? Flower? Fluffy annoying singing animal of some kind? It's not too hard to guess what's coming, really, if anything.
Some would argue that I am just bitter because I never get anything for Valentine's Day. That is a crummy lie. Every year people in my family spend their hard earned cash (awwwww) and surprise me with gargantuan heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolates. I see this as a sweet gesture of affection, and I thank them, and hope that they will constantly come and beg me for some of my chocolates because for heaven's sake I could never down that much lard, not even in a year. Just thinking about this (and I know it's coming) is sort of frightening me, because I always worry about what I'm going to do with the 46 or 50 chocolate candies that I can't digest on my own.
(Unbelievable as it may sound, my chocolate capacity is close to nill. I kind of like the stuff, yeah, a little, but it isn't heaven on earth and it has a pesky habit of making me nausious. Gosh, I sound so negative... Sorry chocolate.)
Considering the amount of chocolate I've planted in various places, this town should be dark from the shade of the Valentine's trees. My Jolly Rancher orchard should be coming along here soon as well.
It escapes me now where I was going with this schpeal....I guess Valentine's is wonderful. Happy Valentine's everyone!
Today, however was not Valentine's Day. Today was Friday the 13th! Wheehoo! The day I mention a bunch of superstitious things I plan to do just to tempt fate! And then, in the wake of the few of these deeds that I commit, I complain about my misfourtune.
I was musing with a friend of mine about monopolizing misery and making the good citizens pay for it. YOu'd get a bill in the mail every month or so for how much misery you were using. Because that's the government's misery. My friend and I plan to look after it I guess. And people would pay this bill just like they do their water bill, gas bill, and gravity bill. Because we tell them to. They have to pay more for it anyway if they get all bent out of shape about it. But anyway, Friday the Thirteenth is kind of like a day where your Misery Bill is free. You can generate your very OWN misery, simply by doing a bunch of ridiculous things outlined on urban myth pages everywhere! Aren't you thankful now?
You bet you are!
But despite it being Friday the 13th, the school-mites chose to celebrate Valentine's Day instead. And the place was littered with carnations and pink things and red things and white streamers (that whole end of the color wheel got a lot of action as you can prolly tell) and candies. Candies including those little sweet heart things, most of which these days seem to have really incoherent messages on them, to my utmost delight.
Throughout the day, I collected as many of these as I could. And I ended up with such romantic quotes as: "My way or the highway", "New Rah", "Hippie", and "That's a Wrap". My favorite of them all though was "Let's Read". And while I had eaten all the other sweet hearts, I carried "Let's Read" around in my pocket all day, subjecting random people to it's potency whenever I got the chance.
I showed Chanel, who laughed.
I showed Jenny, who laughed.
I showed Chantelle, who exclaimed, "Read?! NOT IN PUBLIC! *gasp*"
And then I showed Greg, who looked at it for a split second and then promptly ate it.
Yeah. He ATE IT!
I don't think he even had time to read it! He saw "Let's--" and then after he'd popped it into his slobbering mouth, I guess he could just taste that the poignant, hilarious ending was "--Read", and he chuckled a little at it, the flaming jackdog!
I was so taken aback at this that I went into a very uncharacteristic fit of feeble female shoulder-beatings, which Greg was completely insusceptable to as he savored the tang of my anguish *inaudible grumbling*.
Now, HOW am I supposed to make everyone believe me, huh? "Oh I found this awesome sweet tart, it said 'Let's Read', Greg ate it." "Good story, I like the ending, it's original," they reply.
Luckily I am consoled by the fact that that sweet tart sat in my pocket all day with cell phone, a bag of croutons, and, most importantly: my filthy hand. I also dropped it a couple of times, once in the trash can.
Well, not really, but I wish I had. My hand really is filthy though. I stick it in trashcans to fish things out all the time.
The croutons I got from Chantelle, and since my stomach forbids me to eat anything at school, I kept them for when I got home. I'm gonna have me a dinner tonight.
It is whispered rumor that we may get a few inches of snow tomorrow. I don't doubt this, seeing the weather's apparent sadistic and ironic ways as of late. I figure the snow will come over night and be gone long before the weekend ends, so as to carefully avoid any chance of our taking advantage of it as a good excuse to miss school.
And, naturally, just for kicks, it may not come at all.
But we still have a three day weekend. And it sho' is fun to be free on a Monday. I can rent movies and waste time and eat whatever I can find just like any other time, except NOW I don't have to get off the phone as early, and I don't have to worry about school following me close behind me like an owner when he lets his dog out to use the bathroom.
Dogs really must hate that, I swear.
No, I am not going to tell you all about my fabulous weekend when it all is over. You go out and have your own fabulous weekend, you mooches!
Oh, maybe I'll tell you a little.
Here's a hint: I plan to rent a chicken. Do what you can with that till I return.
Also, we are eating spaghetti tonight.
We does not include you, sorry.
And despite that fact, I still have to go help prepare this hideous feast, now that I've cleared my conscience of having so neglected you're starving minds.
Filthy conscience....So controlling...
Eh, anyway: See you in the future!
