Sunday, October 23, 2011

Predicting the Future with Friends

So, I was having a grand old time with my very good band friends on Friday, and we were discussing what college would be like.  Apparently, it's going to go like this:

I'm going to go off to far away lands and triple major at a private college, thereby making me a recluse and extremely poor.  After I triple major, I'm going to go to another college that's actually in my home state to get a master's degree in trombone.  Why?  So I can be in their marching band, of course.

Really.  That's the only reason.

The Destroyer/David Hasselhoff (You remember her.  We went swimming together.  She plays the trumpet) will go off to that in-state college and be in their marching band from the get-go.  At around week three, she will have a mental breakdown from the stress of homework combined with the stress of so many intensive band practices.  After three days of psychosis, she will stand up and declare the she is the Destroyer/David Hasselhoff and ain't nobody gon get her down nuh-uh.   After she has been at that college for three years, I will begin my master's degree in trombone, and join her in the marching band.  She will have predicted my arrival down to the last second, and when I arrive, she will be petting her trumpet, saying "I've been expecting you."  Only I will be a few seconds late.  She will ask if the elevator got stuck (at which point there is a flashback to me sawing at the elevator cable while the first-chair trombone player stands inside) "Yes," I will reply.  "On a totally unrelated note, though, I'm now the first-chair trombone player!"

Then we will go on to kick butt, only we'll be really poor.  We won't have enough money to drive back home, so we'll go over to our high school band teacher's house because she only lives on campus.  There we will tell her horror stories about how we cut off all our hair and sold it for drugs, then how we sold the drugs for food money.

And that's as far as we got.  I really don't know why I write this stuff down.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I Have Claimed a Nemesis

He's my nemesis because I called dibs, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band already has a nemesis, also, because I have seniority (a booyah.)

I don't know where that last part came from (the part that secretly loves Kim Possible and thinks Ron is actually kind of cute.

You know you love him too.
Also, on an unrelated note, this was kind of awesome:

That is all.)

That's great, subconscious, can I have my blog post back now?


Thank you.

(I'm not making any guarantees, though)

*Sigh*  Fair enough.


Today I claimed a nemesis.  Why?  Because I need a good nemesis to spice up my last year in Quiz Bowl, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band has always had a nemesis, and, frankly, I've been feeling slightly jealous.  There.  I said it.  ARE YOU HAPPY?

(Pay no heed to the caps lock.  She's a little unstable lately.)


(Heard what?  I didn't hear anything.  Except maybe the nice little chit-chat I was having with this lovely reader of yours.)

*Snake eyes*  I'm watching you.

(Alright then.)


Back to Nemesis.

Nemesis is on the Quiz Bowl team that was totally crazy good last year when they had this one really awesome guy, but now he's graduated, and so we actually sort of stand a chance against them.

Enter Nemesis.

Scout's honor, the boy answered most of the questions asked in that match.  AND EVERY TIME HE BUZZED IN, I KNEW THE ANSWER.  And if he would've just gotten the answer wrong, then I would have been able to get the point, but NOOOOOO.  He's got to go and get all the answers RIGHT like a JERKFACE.

(He's not really a jerkface.)

Fine.  I suppose he's not really a jerkface, but from now on, we shall never be friends. 

I will make sure of that



I apologize.  I haven't been sleeping well.

Nemesis shall be conquered, or I

(It will be poorly-thought out and even more poorly executed, if it ever happens at all.)

Why do you have to be so mean?

(Because you're off your rocker right now, and you need someone to help you back on.)

So you're going to shove me back onto my rocker with verbal abuse?

(It's really more of a forceful guiding...of love.)

Oh, because THAT makes sense.

(It does.)

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Screw You Guys, I Hate High School

Me: I really wish I wasn't so stressed.  What I need is a school day without much going on where I can stay home sick and not go insane.

High School:  Oh, yeah, I can do that.  Here:  You have practices Monday and Tuesday, a calc test on Wednesday, a world history test on Thursday and an anatomy test on Friday.

Me:  Are you completely insane?  That's not what I wanted at all.

High School:  Sure it is!  I know that you said that you don't want to be stressed, and you don't want to go insane, but deep down, I know that that's really a cry for more stress and insanity-inducing schoolwork.

Me:  Is this a joke?  Am I on Punked?  Where's Ashton?  Was I not important enough to get Ashton?  Or maybe this is Candid Camera come back from the dead, because there is absolutely no way that anyone is so stupid to think that when I say I don't want to lose my marbles, I really mean that I desperately want someone to smack my marbles out of my hands and scatter them to the ends of the Earth.

High School:  So I guess that means that that's going to be a "no" on the concessions stand working on Thursday?

Me:  I can't even look at you right now.

That is why I have not posted for many many weeks.  I know that I have let you all down (because you all definitely sit around on the computer, waiting with bated breath for the moment I next post) but I have good reason.  My entire life has been like this ever since school started.  Scratch that:  my lack of a life has been like this ever since school started.  And now I'm going insane.  Case in point:  last week.

Me:  Ah!  It's homecoming week!  As a member of Student Council, I have duties that I must fulfill, as well as dealing with any problems with the parade and/or dance that may arise as a result of crappy weather/wrath of the cosmos.  And, as if that weren't enough, I have to write an essay on a topic I don't understand, which is due on the night of the dance, and I still have to find a dress for the dance!  Could my life get any worse?

Life:  Yes I can.

Me:  Oh, please, don't.

Life:  Oh, fo shizzle, I'm about to throw wrenches all up in this heezy.  Brb, I'm gonna go get my posse.

Biology:  Activate:  Hormonal imbalance!

Me:  Ah!  *Lose 10 Patience*


Me:  NOOOOO!! *coughcoughhackcoughcoughsneeze*

High School:  Who's ready for quizzes and busy work all up in this biscuit??  I AM!!

Me: mercy...


Me:  *cowers beneath table in an attempt to discourage Mom*

Weather:  Oh, I'm looking ominous, aren't I?  Whatcha gonna do?  WHATCHA GONNA DO?  Oh!  What if I decide to rain?  What then?  OH MY GOSH CHECK OUT THIS WIND I JUST COOKED UP, THIS IS LEGIT, SON.  Yeah, you're definitely going to have to skip your anatomy class and totally change the whole judging setup.  WOOHOO!  LOOK AT ME GO!!!

Me:  Why is this happening to me?

Homework:  Oh my gosh, guess what?  I just got married!  TO INSOMNIA!!!  We're so happy!  You're going to be seeing a lot of us, especially this week.

Me:  *whimpers pathetically*

Calculus:  Wsdlkfjaoisdaga d; vfas;d fva;lkdsjf vaoidfvasdkf v;laksd a;sdlk jfaoiw ccfe;kajs d;fklja ;sldk fca;kjsa;lk jdfva;lksjd f;lkaj ;sdlk f;akj vs;dlkjfac ;lj ds;lfjv as;ldk vfa;lksj dflkjad チトシハリノチマトシハリノマチト ハリチノ トマシ ハチレトリノシマハ ヒチレリノトシマハ コヒチノマクチマニモイモチトクニカイタラテイニスナノミヒモミツネサモソハノチクシトリニスナチテクンリニナスクヒ チノマトシハク リヒノチマトクシ ヒチマトシク リノハチマ トクヒシリノ ク!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me:  Was that even English?  Or Japanese, for that matter?

Calculus:  a;dljf;oqwie rlkjfnb alsier hiwehr gvajks cfaishjf vawhrelbiuayh eivlkrh,cjkzhslidh calkjiwegh rvailuwhe fjalvks hfdavlks hdfljvkasd; fvja;sld fv;alsjdf voiwe rkljas bdhlfa

Me:  I'm going to die.  That is all there is to it.

And that is why I hate high school.

**Note:  In the above conversation, the portrayal of my Mom is a bit of a dramatization.  She doesn't really act like that.  Normally.