THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Still no Devotchkas. Though I did get lasagna.
And had a screaming row over it- but that's a long story and involves my father "not wanting me to end up like him".
Apperantly, using "No, Dad, I don't think I will. There's a pretty slim chance that I will end up with thick hair all over my body- with the exception of my head, or a man. You don't have to worry" doesn't really work as a sufficient rebuttle.
Go figure.
Anyway. So they bussed all the Jo's Ho's over to Bosco today.
Okay, what should have been a great day ('Ohmigawd! It must be Christmas! There are BOYS here!!'), turned out to be lame as fuck.
(Note to self: Try to stop substituting the word "fuck" in to sentances, when you can't think of a sufficiant analogy- it doesn't really work out)
Bosco boys are lame.
Except for two of them, who were hot (in my sense of hot- the Nick 13 kind- you know what I'm talking about...Or not). But one of them was a senior and the other one was an asshole.
So there you go. And while I could easily pass of as a senior (I could easily pass off as being of the legal drinking age, though, so I suppose that doesn't quite say much), I lack the necessary yellow sweater, school spirit, and enough makeup to pass off as a drag queen.
I'm such a failed Jester. (Sigh)
And, it was so mean- Alix and Angeline-Master-of-the-Yenny-Loafera FORCED me to go get blessed.
Usually I just sit down through the whole thing- but they think my heathen-ness is funny, so they made me go.
And then, worst of all, they told INA. The girl who's trying to convert me in a very "Saved" type scenario.
Anyway, so despite the fact that I was actually surrounded by guys ALL DAY, it was aweful.
And let me tell you something- being with girls all day long every day- it really makes you forget a lot of decency.
We were making boob jokes about how the only pockets we got were on our blouses- and, should we use them, we look oddly deformed- "Look, Lizz- I have a GROWTH!"
Note to self: Remember not to check whether or not your cell phone is in your pocket by feeling your sweater.
Because while anyone at St. Ho's would know what you were doing, YOU WERE NOT AT ST. JOSPEHS.
So, yes, I made a stunning impression on the boys.
Who, really, were very non-impressive. I saw Glenn and John and Rodrigo- but no one else. (*Almost Sadness*) (*With an emphasis on the Almost*)
And then I got to sit by the-OTHER-Elizabeth-Who's-Last-Name-Begins-With-H-and-Whose-Mother-is-Also-Karen on the bus and explain fifty THOUSAND times that no, we were not related.
You'd think people would take the fact that, you know, our last names were different, and we look completely different as a hint, but that's people for you.
Oh, and once again- Boy, do the cheerleaders ever loot sluttier when their dancing in front of boys. And then they brought in these college dance team- who sucked big time. It's pathetic when our JV Team beats you out.
They were nasty.
Anyway, so yeah that was it.
Oh well.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"What would Jesus do, Emily? Would JESUS dance like that? Would Jesus wear skirts so short that you could see his spankies while standing? Would Jesus throw his pom-poms at the horny fifteen year old boys? I THINK NOT."
"Wow. Bad mental picture. Thanks, Lizz."