Thursday, August 21, 2008

Ties, Gaunts, and Mr Cowling, oh my!

'Lo all.

I had a terrible morning. Worse than average, though the average tends to be pretty bad. First, the alarm didn't go off. I got told we were out of bread, and I had to buy expensive lunch. Then, when I arrived at school, I realised I wasn't wearing a tie, since I couldn't find it, then got distracted. Bah.

Picked up a yellow slip, slept through chapel, did the rounds and handed out despatches during homeroom. Then english, which was about themes. Mrs Englishteacher seemed happy with what I did, which was take the bare minimum of notes.

Recess was cold. We discussed bowels voiding upon death, and the ways in which this could be exploited, such as using a corpse like a flamethrower (if you get my drift), and spreading diseases in a hospital. Kind of disgusting, very funny. All the drama kids were worried about monologing that afternoon.

Double history opened with a speech about how awesome the music was in the 60s, and she had a CD with Hendrix and Edwin Starr and Bob Dylan, but then it turned out someone had borrowed the CD, so no awesome music. Bugger. A discussion about conscription devolved into an argument about Google Streetview, which I found kind of funny. As an internet superhero, you tend to be ahead on this sort of thing. And the scavenger hunts...oh, the scavenger hunts...

Lunch, instead of following the horde for soccer as usual, I followed Denny and Julian, in their attempts at aeronautical engineering. They had a huge A2 plane again, this one an old science project, which was eventually reinforced with cardboard and many staples. Julian fixed up my jumper. During the testing phase, however, since we were throwing it off the balcony, the wind managed to blow it back, and onto a roof. Bastard.

Then psych. Mrs Moy said it was going to be a pure theory lesson, but Carl was going on about his car, and we all seemed to manage to get the work done. I got a C on my maths ERA (stupid maths, infiltrating the cool subjects...), so Mrs Moy let some of us copy it out again. Meh. Figured I had time, so I did.

Just before homeroom, it started pouring. Note to never attempt friendly conversation with people if their BFFs (google it) are around, since they look at you funny. Bah. After chatting to Isobelle and Annie about Emily's injokes (more intricate than the internets, of course), I sprinted home through the rain, then drove to the Phoenix Centre, where I reserved a copy of AoBR, and picked up a gaunts box. I agree with the internet, for all it's fancy sprues, the bastard shouldn't have termagants and bloody hormagaunts in the same box. Just because we know the hormies will sell better if they seperated them.

Back home, talked to Alison about Melissa's party, she wants to join the line for Sam and Hayden, and we agreed to charge people for them. Then parent teacher interviews. I got strange text messages from a professional stalker, who Alison said was George. Might have been his Bairnsdale friend though, since I think we traded numbers, and my phone was dead at the time, or something. Either way.

Bloody hell. Apart from Meg, Hayden and Melissa, barely any friendly faces, and too much waiting around and going over time. Ms Henry was very pleased with me, Mr Cowling said I should go in at lunchtime, and to stop turning around and talking (not my fault they sit there and she's hot!), Ms Holdsworth tried to push art on me as a VCE subject again, Mrs Sawade confused me about english literature, which I put down for next year. I think I might have to swap it for regular english, and maybe use english language as my swap-into backup. Then Mrs Moy said I was doing fine, and Mr Smith said I was doing well, but should be taking chemistry. All through it Beardman related stories about his days in Uni, which made things a bit easier, since otherwise it would just be scary Mr Cowling going on and on about how much he hates loud children for 5 minutes.

Band. Scariest thing I've done all week was walk in late to that room. Every bloody head swivels, glares at you for interupting, and swivels back. We didn't sound too bad, better than the concert band, at least.

Tomorrow, PE, then off to Ballarat. Which means, my dear readers, there might not be a post Friday or Saturday nights. Figured I'd give you some warning. But you never know.


Anyway, the end.

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