THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
"Hey, Ms. Owens, does the Bible say anything about using condoms?"
...We had another pep rally today.
It was "Day in the Life of a Jester" (a.k.a.
"Day in the Life of an AIDS-infected, Pot-Smoking, Religiously Intolerant Whore") where all the scared little eighth graders come and watch the animals through the bars of their cages.
But be careful. We may bite.
And here is something you will only ever do if you go to private school:
Me, Alix, Angeline-Kung-Fu-Master-of-the-Yenny-Loafers, and Emilius spent all day comparing plaids.
Yes.
Plaids.
We compared them.
You know, "Ohmygod, look at her plaid, it's so ugly. But, hey, that one's okay. And look over there! Holy shit, that's the same plaid we had at St. Peter's. Fucking bitches stole our fucking PLAID! What the hell?"
I know, I know. Makes you want to rush out and get converted, doesn't it?
I told Mr. B today that if I didn't get to be in a production of Bye Bye Birdie by the end of senior year, I would spontaneously combust. All over his paperwork.
He, however, didn't seem to feel threathened.
In health class, we played the un-game with the eigth graders. Where Ms. B-O-S asks us pointless pseudo-deep questions and we have to answer them.
Mine was: if you could spend the day with any two famous people, who would they be and why?
So I said Nick 13 because he's uber-smart and pretty funny in a cynical Morrissey kind of way (and hot, so you can't go wrong), and Tim Armstrong because he's my favorite lyricist of all times.
And, to my shock and awe, no one knew who I was talking about.
I mean, what the hell. A group of forty emo kids and rIoT gRrRlS, and none of them managed to pick up a copy of Indestructable or IIII. Ghost Tigers Rise? Aren't those new emo standards?
I give up. Everyone sucks. Period.
Leave me notesnessness.
P.S. OHMYGOD GEOFF KRESGE IS A HORRORPOP. (See previous entry and here me gush....Ooze....Something, I don't know. But this is still the best thing to happen musically in...A long time.)