It’s Tortilla Time

I’m dreading band class, it must be my least favourite. I swear it’s the place where time stands still. You look at the clock, and ten minutes later you look at the clock again, only to notice that barely two minutes have elapsed since you’ve last checked.

I really hope that our test on the A flat concert scale is not today, because I am totally unprepared.

I’m home alone tonight, and I’m oddly reluctant to sleep. I keep thinking that I hear noises, though I assume that they are merely a figment of my own anxious hallucinations.

Instead of becoming apprehensive about the noises that I hear, I choose to randomly listen to songs from the movie Grease. I have a unique solution for any situation.

It snowed today, though it didn’t accumulate. I think I’m the only one that’s genuinely looking forward to winter.

My neighbour’s dog won’t shut the fuck up. Why those people won’t let their damned dog in is beyond me. It’s been outside for at least half a fucking hour barking its fool bloody head off.

I’m contemplating opening my window and shouting SHUT UP IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!

Did I mention that I declined an invitation to a party Friday night because I had homework? This must be what growing up feels like.

I haven’t heard from my father thing in over a month, since he dropped us off following our utterly bizarre trip to Columbus. I received no call come the the first day of school to see how it went. I am not expecting a call today wishing us a Happy Thanksgiving. I’m far from surprised though. Prior to when he took us to Columbus, we hadn’t heard from him for months. That’s just how he rolls- barging in and out of our lives at his convenience.

I recently found him and she-who-shall-not-be-named on Facebook. I mean, who has time for their kids in the age of SOCIAL NETWORKING.

Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canucks. May it be filled with turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie and English essays.

Fuck my life.

This is what I think of The Grapes of Wrath so far.

…when people say that they have hazel eyes when their eyes are actually brown. Saying that you have hazel eyes doesn’t make you special.

This is a picture of my eye, notice the genuine hazel colouration. Note the green and the brown.

This is a picture of Ben’s eye, notice the BROWN colouration. If your eye looks like this, it is not hazel.

I think that brown eyes look awesome, quite personally. Part of me is perpetually envious of Ben’s big, brown peepers. At least you brown eyed folks have that song ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’ What do I have? That sappy song by Kelly Clarkson?

I have to walk to school in a freakin THUNDERSTORM just to watch Fahrenheit 911 in World Issues class. My mum has already given me permission to stay home, as she loathes that communist bastard as much as I do. However, my teacher is extremely strict about absences, and I want to have as few as possible… so I’m going.

It is full out pouring outside. Lightning is flashing every few seconds. Thunder is perpetually roaring.

And I’m going to be out there.

Mum was all, ‘if you’re going DON’T use an umbrella! You could die! Blah blah blah!’ But please, you expect me to get soaked?

I hope I don’t die.

And if I do, do me a favour. Blame Michael Moore.

Today my mind was obviously in the gutter, as I also noticed in band rehearsal that ’symbolist’ sounds strikingly similar to ’syphilis.’

My band teacher angrily demanded to know where the symbolist was, which caught me quite off guard.