Formerly Felines for Anarchistic Green Democracies

A Bostonian at the University of Michigan.

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Spelling rant
Yankee Star Wars
A Tigers Comedy of Errors
How bad is Keith Foulke really?
Harry Potter and the Boston Red Sox
Bellhorn vs. Graffanino vs. Lamprey
Critiquing team slogans
Joey Harrington blogs a baseball game
Jason Varitek gets injured
Winter meetings fashion report
Mascot Rant #1
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8 Days of Jewish Baseball
Day 1- Kevin Youkilis
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Day 3- Al Levine
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Day 8- Gabe Kapler and Theo Epstein

the Story of Chanukah, Red Sox style
Part I: the cruel reign of Steinbrennochus
Part II: rise of the Soxxabees
Part III: the rebellion begins!
Parts IV, V, and VI
Parts VII and VIII

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Thursday, October 31, 2002  
Two posts in one day. It is most fortuitous for you, cher readers.

So, what did I do on Halloween? My last Halloween at home? Since I had already gone to Salem, I hung around at home. More specifically, at Liz's house. With Liz and Jess. And Remy. We made s'mores. They were D-licious. We got a real fire going, and we had skewers, and we set marshmallows on fire. Many, many fires. Much smoke. Much chocolate and even more graham cracker crumbs. Much laughter and talk and watching of bad TV shows. I almost wrote TB shows, but that's not right. No tuberculosis in Liz's TV... I don't think.

Anyways, we had to lock Remy in his room so that he wouldn't eat all the marshmallows, and when we let him out he ran upstairs and drank out of the toilet. Yuck. Cats don't do that, or at least mine don't. They're far too refined, you see.

So Jess gave me a ride home and when we pull up to my house I see my brother standing outside, cleaning my dad's car with a paper towel and brandishing a nine-iron. I was, quite naturally, curious.

He said that he had been sitting inside when he saw some kid on the street outside the window. It didn't really register with him what was going on until he suddenly saw Noah come charging out of his house and go for the kid. Then my brother grabbed his nine-iron and ran outside to join Noah. The kid was shaving creaming/TPing (but not TBing, because that would involve biological weaponry not available to your average Halloween hooligan).

On hearing this, I imagined Noah running outside and bellowing, but Eli says he wasn't bellowing. I personally think that it would have been much more amusing if he was bellowing, and if you think about it that way it's a lot funnier. Although it's pretty funny any way you look at it. I enjoy bellowing. Especially bellowing like a wounded buffalo. That's the best kind.

OK, I digress. The long and short of it is, my brother and Noah chased off this youthful delinquent, and TP was removed from Noah's trees, or wherever it was, and is currently sitting in a large round wad in the middle of his driveway. Eli remained outside to wipe down my dad's car, still with his nine-iron, just in case the kid came back. I give him credit for that aggressiveness. It's in actions like that, running after a young and misguided (but undoubtedly evil) child with a nine-iron, yes, it's in actions like that where you can see my relation to my brother. It is not apparent otherwise.

I also hear that there are some choice swear words written down the road a ways, in spray paint, but I don't much feel like going out to examine the veracity of this claim. I suppose that I shall accept it as truth.

Now Eli is getting up every few moments to look out the window, in the hopes of finding that kid again, so that he can beat his brains out with his trusty weapon of choice.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Good story. Just picture Noah and my brother running after this little scalawag, Eli waving a golf club, both of them bellowing, if you like. A most glorious picture. I almost wish I had been there to see it. Almost. I think I had more fun with the s'mores.

What makes what goes up.........................stay up?
Whatever it ain't physics.

Today Liz said the following:

"I'm dressed up as a twin...... of myself."
"Ms. Henning likes the semen!"
"And then I put on the flame-retarded gloves!"

So, as you can see, she was having a good day.

OK, costume report. No reason for it, except that I don't really feel like stopping blogging to do homework just yet.

Me- Cat. black. (see previous blog)
Maura- Maddie. sweater w/ collared shirt underneath (see 10/17 blog)
Maddie- Maura. shirt zipped all the way down. looked just like her.
Corey- Skeleton. painted a t-shirt. very cool.
Jason- Sandman. or something. anyways, he looked tired.
Russel- Andrew murphy. it was funny.
Sarah- Old man. married to greg marie, who was a very buxom old woman.
Meredith- Jackie popeo. i think jackie dressed up meredith.
Avery- Marissa. yup.
Marissa- Avery. yup.
Rebecca- Champ. i liked her simpson's shirt.

Pretty much everyone else wimped out. Lame-bums.

But do you see what I mean about people dressing up as each other? They ended up just looking slightly odd, and it was only really funny if you knew them. And the other people who were obviously dressed up were mostly dressed as what seemed to be police whores (vinyl and badges), taxi driver whores (checked skirts and high boots), angel whores (white sheer dresses with pink fur), or just plain old regular whores. So, you see, a nice, normal, entirely dressed black cat looked a little out of place.

Sigh. Such is life.

Well, I am beginning to feel the onset of exhaustion. So I had better go do my work and go to sleep.


9:42 PM

Greetings all, I am in school. In english class, to be exact. They told us to go work on the AP Central website, but you have to go through this whole registering rigamarole, and it just wasn't worth it. Alas, I will not, therefore, do my work.

Today is Halloween!! Ha ha ha!! I am, naturally, dressed as a cat. A black one. Very few people dressed up in school this year, and some of those that are dressed up, dressed up as other people, so unless you know them you don't even notice they're dressed up. So I stand out a wee bit. But that's OK, I never mind being a cat, even an obvious one. I am not ashamed of my feline nature. Hee hee hee.

Dave says that he can't type quickly. Ha ha. I learned from my ever-glorious keyboarding class!!! Mwah ha ha ha ha ha ha!!

No one cares about the catdamned scholarships.

Well, my wrist is.. injured. I went to the hospital yesterday, and got it X-Rayed, and such. And such. I repeat, and such. Anyways, it's ace-bandaged, and I couldn't block at Powderpuff yesterday, but I will be able to on Monday. This is a good thing. Very good. In short, I will be fine.

Although I will have to wear some kind of bracing on my wrists from now on when I play Powderpuff, since my po' lil' wrists are extraordinarily weak and limp. Limpid. As wet noodles. Cooked noodles, rather. You know. Not on the hardy side, when it comes to wrists.

20 minutes left in class. Then study hall. Then math. Yuck. I wish we were doing this in math, rather than english, which I generally don't mind anyways.

I need to take numerous pictures today. I will be very unhappy if I do not. Very unfulfilled I will be. This has been a heinous year for photographs thus far, which has been depressing. No one is doing anything interesting anymore.

It freaks me out to have to wear my watch on my right wrist.

This monitor is an AOC Spectrum 7 VIr. It is enormous. Its depth is unrivaled. I, being used to my glorious flat screen, find it rather uncouth.

Well, I do believe that I shall go check some other sites of interest.

Until the next.

10:08 AM

Sunday, October 27, 2002  
Ay, yes, I am well aware of the fact that I have not blogged in a very long time. I apologize. I do not think that I have ever had more homework than I do now. So you must grant me some small pardon.

So... yesterday I slew a centipede. I don't like them, too many damn legs. Anyways, I smooshed it, and when I looked at it to make sure it was good and dead, guess what color its blood was?? It was purple. Not just slightly purple, we're talking incredibly bright, Barney-the-dinosaur-purple. Needless to say, I disposed of it as rapidly as possible.

I saw the Ring on Friday. It was very well made, very cool visually, etc. You know the drill. But there were two things that detracted from what would have been my enjoyment of this film.

1. It was scarier than anything I had ever seen before. We're talking constant cringing in the seat, constant whimpering, constant starting up and sinking nervously back down. We're talking it-did-not-help-to-be-sitting-next-to-Dave-who-is-worse-at-scary-movies-than-I-am. We're talking not going to bed until 4:30 am. That kind of thing. In any event, I was so completely, utterly terrified that I did not enjoy it as much as I otherwise might have.

2. My friends are evil. Entirely evil. You see, I went with a number of people, and some of them had seen it already. And they made an evil pact to not tell me a very important (to me) bit of the movie beforehand. No warning, nothing. And then when it came up in the movie, I was sitting about in the middle of everyone, so I look left. I see evilly grinning faces, all leaning over to see how I was taking it. I look right. Same deal. If you know who I am, and you've seen this movie, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I can't believe they didn't tell me. It was horrid, I tell you, horrid.

And that also kept me from enjoying the movie.

Hm. What else?

Saturday... Corey, Maura and I did our psych project. That was glorious. Were you aware that babies can recognize their mothers by the taste of their nipples? We were not aware, and when we came across that lovely little tidbit in our researches, it afforded hours of fun.

Today (it being Sunday) I carved the family pumpkin, which took a while, as it was a rather thick-walled pumpkin. Then I watched the Lions-Bills game, which the Lions lost, but they did give the Bledsoe a run for his money. I like Joey Harrington, I don't care what you all say. So take THAT!

Last weekend... I haven't said anything about last weekend yet, have I? I suppose I ought to.

Last weekend me, Jess, Liz and Stephanie went into Salem, in order to better view the Haunted Happenings, and to see just what it was that draws hordes of crazed tourists into Salem every October. We went into a haunted house, which was kind of funny, because it was silly. I was not afraid in the least bit, which is somewhat surprising, considering my actions at scary movies. But you know. Anyways, everyone else was terrified. They made me walk in front, which turned out to not help them any, because the people in the haunted house seemed to always attack the second person in line. That happened to be Steph. It was actually pretty funny, because I was wearing a hooded sweater thing, and Stephanie was hanging onto my hood the entire time.

The best bit of the haunted house was when we were all stopped and the attendent was giving us some lame shpeil about 'crypts of doom' or somesuchathing. Suddenly a giant rubber spider falls from the ceiling directly onto my head. I did not jump, or scream. I didn't even flinch. I will admit, I was rather surprised at myself. But the funny bit was that everyone else in the group jumped and shrieked, especially Stephanie. Ha ha ha. I laughed.

In short, it was lame, but it was fun, not because I was scared, but because everyone else was and that was amusing. I'm not really sure why I wasn't scared. My brain is weird sometimes. A stupid movie can leave me shaking and gibbering helplessly, but a haunted house does not a thing.

Then we wandered the streets, and some guy in a full body gorilla suit attacked Jess and Stephanie, and they screamed, and I laughed some more. Then we choked on some smoke. And Liz did not manage to get hurt once, although she did try to mess with an old and moldy microwave sitting on the sidewalk.

Ah, those ancient, abandoned microwaves!

So. Last... Saturday, I guess it was. Sunday? Saturday? I dunno, last weekend. I went into Boston. I went with Rebecca, Corey and Marissa. Also Marissa's friend Adam and Rebecca's friend Brie (sp?). Also SHS english teacher Ms. Ganci. Also said teacher's boyfriend Dan. Later we met up with said teacher's little sister (she being a year older than us kids).

We went to lunch in some bizarre little restaurant on Huntington Ave., the name of which I forget. But it had a large and prominent cross on the sign, and it also had a juke box which featured unnaturally high numbers of Notorious B.I.G. CDs. There was a large TV playing the Michigan game, which of course I watched. During lunch, I would often gasp or comment on the game. Whenever I did this, everyone else would just kind of look at me as though to say 'Football? We know nothing of it, and we wish to know no more than we do. Shut up and eat your grilled cheese.'

Which I did.

Then we went to the MFA and learned that the exhibit we were going to see had sold out, which was rather unfortunate. Didn't even know an exhibit could sell out. Well, in any event, we then went to see the MassArt dorms, since little Ganci was nice enough to finagle a way in for us. Damn nice dorms they were, with a full kitchen and whatnot. And the work rooms had glorious views.

Then we went back into the MFA (general admission) and we got in for free because the guy at the front told us to just go ahead. I love it when that happens. So we wandered around, looking at things, and avoiding the security guard who kept on telling us to leave because the museum would be closing soon. We thought it would be cool to get locked in for the night, like in that book. But then we decided to err on the side of intelligence and get out while the getting was good. If you will.

And that was that. A thoroughly surreal day, mostly because of the random group of people that we were. Six kids who never hang out with each other as a whole group. Plus one english teacher and her boyfriend. It was weird. But quite fun, oddly enough. And, even more oddly, never awkward. Alors, a successful trip overall in that respect. Even though we were denied admission to the exhibit we really wanted to see, we had a good time.

What do you think of 'Holy Cats!' as a powder puff name? I do believe that that shall be my sobriquet.

Umami is a great taste. I wish that more things tasted umami.

I shall endeavor to blog more often this week. But we shall see. It is quite indeterminate right as of this very moment.

We should have had math homework this weekend, but Ms. Monteiro gave us a problem in class and said "If anyone gets the answer to this, no homework for the weekend." Then Drew got the right answer. So, no math homework!

Therefore, I would like to end this blog with a grand old thank you to Drew, for indirectly saving me from a depressed and discouraged emotional state this weekend.

Thank you, Drew.

8:22 PM

Thursday, October 17, 2002  
Today I used my boundless people skills to great effect in math class.

Someone mentioned the large number of people in our class that day who happened to be wearing collared shirts with sweaters over them. A certain person who shall not be named began lovingly stroking her sweater (with bits of collared shirt protruding enticingly from underneath it, of course) and announced that she was a fan of the style. I took the opportunity to announce, rather loudly, that if I ever wore clothes that preppy I just might have to stab myself. Upon hearing this proclamation, the unnamed person gave me a very nasty look that was part annoyance, part undiluted wrath, and part extreme condescension.

So, you see, that went over well. Anyhow, I didn't mean it like it probably came out sounding... I just meant to say that the only collared shirts I own are worn on dressy occasions (i.e. anywhere I can't wear jeans), not to school on a daily basis. Also that I was not a huge fan of collars sticking out from under sweaters, and (what's worse) the bottom of the collared shirt sticking out from under the bottom of the sweater. I think it looks sloppy. Anyways, I didn't mean to say that I had anything against people who dress like that (since the vast majority of my friends happen to do so), I only meant to say that I would not dress in that particular fashion myself.

And that if I did, I would have to resort to regrettable violence to remind myself of my supreme clothing law (which is, if it ain't comfy and takes too much work, don't wear it!).

Well, this unnamed person evidently did not quite take my statement as I had intended it to be taken. Alas. My finesse in speaking remains unequalled.

On a less awkward note!

Today in psych we were watching a movie. Awakenings, starring Robin Williams and Robert DeNiro, and it's both better and worse than I expected it to be. Don't ask. It's quite a serious movie, very touching and heartwarming so far, about the touching and heartwarming powers that doctors and tons of medication can bring to human vegetables. But anyways, the point is, at one point a nurse runs into the room and shouts "Dr. Robin Williams! You must come quick!" and he says "What is it, Nurse?"

And she says, "It's a fucking miracle!"

And my whole psych class burst out laughing. It was glorious.

Then in french class we talked about Georges Simenon, who wrote stories that were an awful lot like French Sherlock Holmes stories, starring a guy named Maigret, and who also claimed to have slept with 10,000 different women during his lifetime (Georges Simenon, I mean, not Maigret). We decided that he could have done it in 27 years, if he was really dedicated to his cause and willing to work rather hard, and if he had no repeats.

Then we calculated the number of children he should have fathered, assuming that the condom has a 99% rate of efficacy. Statistically, he should have fathered 100 children. He only has 3 legitimate ones, but we decided that there were undoubtedly more.

Will you look at that! We were doing math in french class! How excitingly interdisciplinary of us!

Then we had fun with french pronunciation, in which Maura pronounced the word 'Seine' as 'see-ehn', when it's really 'sehn'. Sigh. But then Stephanie pronounced 'qui├Ęte' as 'kwy-eh-tay', when it should be 'key-ehtt', so Maura had some company.

And then Jess was reading and had to say the word 'phtisiologiste', which is a lung doctor and is pronounced 'fih-tee-see-all-oh-jeest', and if she mispronounced it, it was through no fault of her own, 'cause that's just a damn nasty word when it comes right down to it.

Powderpuff meeting tonight! It's just a rules meeting, but I am so excited to start practicing! I can't freaking wait to crush the puny people with my mighty football talent! Ha ha ha! I will run you all down! You shall be as the penitent mice before the wrathful cat! You shall flee my heavily clawed paw of vengeance! MWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

Yes, so, I am rather looking foward to Powderpuff. As you can see.

Rien de plus, pour maintenant.

5:02 PM

Wednesday, October 16, 2002  
Oh kay...

I was just checking my email, and I got this email from some girl who claims she's a freshman in high school. She said that she "read one of my websites and thought I sounded like a cool person", or something along those lines. The email was full of those dopey cutesy asterisk things everywhere.

Obviously, my first thought is, "OK, this has to be some creepy 40 year old stalker man in Montana, or something" (no offense meant to the inhabitants of Montana, but come on, let's all just admit right now that, as a state, it is highly suspect). For one thing, this alleged girl clearly said 'one of your websites', when I only have one. This one. Unless she was talking about my old Samcat sites, which I haven't updated since 3 or 4 years ago and probably have ceased to exist on the Internet.

For another thing, who does that? I mean, who emails some random person with a creepy message like that? If you read someone's website and think it's cool, you email them and say "I really like your website" and you give specifics, like this particular story that you liked, or something, so that they know you actually visited their site. Obviously. And you don't tell them "I think you're a really cool person". And you leave out the hordes of gaudy asterisks.

And you never, ever, ever use the word 'fruitcake' in your email. Never. Which this girl did do. What's worse, she used it in the phrase "How the fruitcake did you ever..." and I forget the rest of the sentence but oh. my. gawd. Mon dieu. Sacrebleu. Holy freaking cats.


I think that that freaked me out more than anything else in the whole incredibly sketchy email.

Anyways, just in the highly unlikely case that this is, in fact a totally innocent girl, who is in fact a freshman, and who read a site of mine and was just too foolish to know any better, I emailed her back. Hey, what harm could it do? If it's a psychotic old man, he obviously already has my email, so there's no harm in emailing him/her back. It's not as though I wrote back saying "*~*Hi totally sweet and innocent freshman girl who liked my website! Here's my home address and phone number, and also a picture, in case you want to see what I look like!!*~*" And if it was a freshman girl with no ulterior motive in mind, she might get pretty upset if I had emailed her back and said "Back off right now you unnatural pedophilic monster! Your depraved kind should be consigned to the deepest, most pestilential pits of Hell!"

But no. What I said was "Which site, exactly, are you referring to?"

We shall see what we shall see. If an interesting response arrives, I will be sure to let you all know.

(Oh, and if you're a freshman girl, and you wrote me that email, and you're now wicked offended, sorry, but catdammit, you should know better than to write emails like that. Unless you have some diabolical illness of the right half of your frontal lobe, which causes your spatial perception to be filled with asterisks and fruitcakes, and this is the reason why your email is creepily full of these aforementioned objects. If that is the case, I am also sorry.)

Just for the record, I don't understand most of my math homework. I just thought that you all would like to know that.

Today it was very, very rainy out, and I very much wanted the power to go out in the school, because then we wouldn't be able to work, especially in the rooms that have no windows. Like my english room. There has to be some kind of health hazard involved in a room with no windows, although by far the worst were the chemisty rooms with no windows. Now that is truly bad for the lungs. And brain. And such.

It is Wednesday. Hoorah. The lack of school on Monday makes the whole rest of the week shine in comparison.

OK, I must go and watch my 8 o'clock show. I will cease to blog for right now.


7:54 PM

Sunday, October 13, 2002  
Greetings all.

Listening to 'Rock Me' off the Run Lola Run soundtrack. My favorite song on the whole CD. It is quite wonderfully glorious. No vocals, but it doesn't really need them. I didn't even realize that it didn't have any vocals until the 3rd or 4th time I listened to it. You really just hear the whole song at once. I adore it.

Last night I went bowling with Jess and Liz. They had the place all atomic, so that was fun. If you have epilepsy, I don't think you would have had fun, but good times for everyone else! We played 2 strings, and I used my extraordinary mastery of bowling to lose both times. Naturally.

Then, driving back, we got lost. Looking back on it now, I'm not really all the sure what exactly did happen. I think we realized we were lost when we tried to figure out what town we were in and no one knew. Salem? Peabody? Danvers? Liz claimed that we were near Salem Hospital. Jess claimed we were near the Peabody Marriot. I suddenly realized I didn't have my house key, so that absorbed my entire attention for a while. There was a lot of shouting and nervous laughter, and a lot of use of the high beams. We went past some really dubious-looking neighborhoods, and something that looked suspiciously like a residential motor court, if such a thing exists. In short, we had no freaking idea where we were.

Well, that's not entirely true. We were all pretty certain we were still in the state. I think.

Anyways, eventually someone said, "I think we're getting on the highway." Lo and behold, it was the highway. This was somewhat problematic, since we were in the Medi-Mobile, and that particular vehicle does not operate well above, oh, let's call it 40 miles per hour. Time for more shouting, more hysterical laughter. Then, thank cats, a rotary! A big one, which is never any fun, but suffice it to say we got off the highway and found ourselves in... Salem? Peabody? Danvers? No. Lynn. How the cats did we get into Lynn??? I still am unsure.

Then we passed Union Hospital, and Liz said, "See! I told you we were near a hospital!", which prompted Jess to shoot back, "Yes, but you said Salem Hospital!" and Liz returned, "Well, a hospital, anyways. My hospital sense was right." I found myself wondering if that was anything like spider sense. Also, we had not been near Union Hospital before, since we had only just then passed it. But whatever.

Home was reached, the adventure ended. Thank cats. I still don't know how we ended up where we were, except that we did. O well. All's well that ends well, non?

I have soooooo much biology homework to do this weekend! And I am soooooo disinclined to do it. Sigh. If only I were motivated.

tell yourself you're happy
we both know the truth

The mural continues... the last time we were working on it, this kid came up to us and said "You should put some naked people in it!" We all just laughed kind of weakly and looked at each other nervously. Yeeeeaaahh... naked people on a mural in the school... now that's a good idea. We get all kinds of weird comments from people when we're working on it. Usually teachers who are confused that there are no teachers in the mural. And mostly every person who has commented on the mural has made some remark about how, walking by, they saw this one kid we painted out of the corner of their eye, and thought it was a real kid. We were trying to not make anyone life-size, but I guess we accidentally did with this kid. Everyone says that they thought he was real. It's kind of freaky, in a way, that pretty much everyone has noticed it.

i'm not on my own
i am waiting
i am waiting
for someone

Very rainy and gray out today. Yuck. More reason for me to stay inside and do my biology homework. Or stay inside and blog. Whichever form of 'productivity' appeals to me more. At the moment, blogging is winning out.

I heard this from Kate, who was walking behind me on... I think it was Thursday. These two kids... sophomore guys, I do believe, were walking behind me, and Kate was right near them. One of them says to the other, "Does she know that her hair is blue?" Wow. These are some real, honest-to-cats geniuses here, people. How could I fail to know???

That very same Thursday (this being the Thursday just past) we had no teacher in English. No sub, either. Since we're such good kids, we all just sat there and did homework and chatted. At one point the lovely Ms. Moment came flouncing through, asking if someone was in our class (they weren't). She noted that we had no teacher, but merely said to Maddie, who was standing up at the time, "Oh, so are you the teacher here?" Maddie looked a little confused, and said, "Yup." Then Ms. Moment flounced out just as wonderfully as she had come in. And that was that. And we remained without a teacher.

The funny bit was that, a couple of periods later, I was wandering in the general direction of the bathroom, and I had the honor of viewing the birdlike visage of Mrs. Kelleher, distorted with rage, and winging it towards the english wing. She had a lackey trailing inneffectually beside her, and she was cawing angrily to this same lackey, "How did I not hear about this?!? There's a class without any supervision..." and then they were gone, flying like a winged vengeance towards what was obviously the same teacher-less class I had had earlier that day. Ha ha. I pity the poor class that was the brunt of her rage.

I started wearing gloves in school, since my delicate little hands get very cold. Anyways, I think that this is the only way that my psych teacher knows who I am. Every time she walks around to check our homework, she comments on the gloves. I don't think that she knows my name, I'm just 'That girl over by the wall who wears the gloves'. I suppose it's just as well. If she doesn't know my name, then she probably won't yell at me for drawing during her class. Not that I ever do, I mean. Just in case I did...

i can see what's on your mind
'cause you're never alone
i am the voice inside your head
and the eyes in your radio

I noticed the other day that Ms. Monteiro was calling Kate 'Katie'. Mrs. Kalloch used to do the same thing. None of use ever call Kate 'Katie', unless we really want to make fun of her (and, as you can imagine, that's usually not in front of teachers). So what's the deal with all these math teachers calling her 'Katie'? Is it a math teacher thing?

I don't think that Ms. Monteiro knows my name either. On parents night (back in the day. I mean, several weeks ago), my dad went up to her and said "Hi, I'm [insert my actual name here]'s dad," and she just stared at him. Then my dad said, "She's the one with blue hair," and Ms. Monteiro said, "Yes, I'm just trying to think where she sits. Oh yes, she is the one with the drawings on her homeworks?"

Damn. Busted. I do tend to doodle when we correct our homework before we pass it in. I didn't think that she had actually noticed, though. Well, it hasn't stopped me from doodling, I just try not to doodle anything too disturbing, like deformed people or anything. You know.

Well, I can't think of anything more of any import right now.

So, goodbye.

4:01 PM

Saturday, October 12, 2002  
My dad just came running upstairs. He was playing ping pong in the basement with my brother. He came up to tell me and my mother that the lovely Eli was lying on the floor, incapacitated because he was farting so much. We had pizza tonight, and usually that affects him pretty badly. Eli, according to my dad, said that he was farting everytime he moved or laughed.

The SATs were today. No idea how I did. O well. Time will tell. Hopefully it will tell me something good. Something 20 points higher than what I got before. Gee, that sure would be nice.

that's the way we get by
we found a new kind of dance in a magazine
try it out it's like nothing else you've ever seen

Three day weekends make me happy.

I tried the Mint Skittles today (Feel the kiss! Taste the rainbow!). It was exactly like eating gum. I dunno, I thought it was a little weird. But I was with Liz and Jess at the time, and they both said that they liked the idea of eating gum, so quoiever.

Rereading American Tragedy is no fun. No fun at all. I hate Clyde. What an annoying little brat! He's so freaking self-centered... I just want to slap him.... ugh.

O yes, I need to send out a humongous thank you to a fellow by the name of Mr. Bawn. He is my buddy on the Brunchma boards. Why, you ask, is he my buddy? He hosted my avatar, free of charge, and with his own personal computer skills (those being what I lack). I am eternally grateful to him. He is a very, very, very good person. If you are ever in a good mood, and you just feel all sorts of goodwill towards people in general, then you should thank Mr. Bawn as well, because he deserves all the accolades I can heap on him.

Thank you Mr. Bawn!

(if you want to see my avatar, you can check it out at my avatar, courtesy of Mr. Bawn)

I think that I am going bowling. I am on the phone with Jess. She says that we are going bowling. Thus, I must end this blog right this very moment.

I'd like to leave you with the wonderful mental image of my brother lying on the floor, farting uncontrollably.

Sweet dreams!

8:34 PM

Friday, October 11, 2002  
Another week gone by, thank cats. I don't think I could stand one more day of it. Of course the SATs are tomorrow, so that makes it worse.

On Thursday, I fell asleep in two classes, instead of the customary one. It was horrid. But do you know why I was that tired? I'll tell you. It was because THIS FREAKING WORTHLESS, CULT-LIKE, SCHOOL-RUN ORGANIZATION HAS ALL OF IT'S MEETINGS AT 7:00 AM!!!! It is evil! Eeeeeeeeevil! Yes, lets make these poor, innocent students as tired as possible, so that all of their grades will plummet on the days that they have meetings! Yes, what a good idea!

At this particular meeting, Maddie came in late, as is her wont. Seeing her come in, Jake said "Thanks for coming", sarcastically, of course. Maddie gave him the hardcore 'look of death' for several minutes. It was rather frightening. She looked really scary. If looks could kill... anyways, amusement and anger early in the morning.

Yes, I know, very late in my announcements... happy belated birthdays to Noah and Kate!


I saw Red Dragon. Yes, I was frightened. Yes, I clutched the seat arms very intensely during the movie. Yes, I stayed up till 2 am that night. Anyways, it was OK. Not terrific, or infinitely glorious, or anything like that, but it was good if you like that kind of thing. Go see it if you kinda wanted to before, but if you had no interest in it, don't bother.

Today in french class Chulsky hadn't done his homework. Tsk tsk tsk. Madame was terribly upset. She told him that he was dans les poubelles, which means that he is in the trash. Most unfortunate, really.

Got some pictures back today! They're alright... not spectacular, but not terrible. The problem is that I have run out of photo albums. I need to run my lazy bottom up to AC Moore sometime this weekend and stock up on them again.

proof of immunization


Well, I'd blog some more, only I must be going. I am very backlogged on my emailing duties. I feel like such an Internet slacker. Alas, real life and real homework take precedence. I know you don't like it, but c'est la vie. C'est ma vie, in any event.


8:49 PM

Monday, October 07, 2002  
I highly recommend the blog Scaryduck. It is quite amusing and I laughed out loud reading it, prompting my mother to come scrambling in and demand to see what I was doing. "Gee mom, it's a British's guy's blog, not porn. I'm not Noah, for cat's sakes."

Anyways, Helene will back me up on that one.


I started message boarding on the Brunching message board, that being the inexplicably named Brunchma. I haven't been there very long, but I don't think that they like me very much over there. Already. Gosh, I am just so good at ingratiating myself with people.

You know you want to be my friend.

Rereading The Three Musketeers, 'cause it's just so damn good. Escapist literature of the old school writers. It warms my little heart, it does. I think I'd like to read it in french. I can say that and not get yelled at for being ridiculous. Maura thinks it's crazy or somesuchathing when I read books in french. But I don't think Maura reads this-here blog. So I will read Les Trois Mousketaires just as soon as I can get mes petits mains on a copy.

Leastaways, I don't think she reads it.


My computer chair used to squeak but then it was fixed by my ever-resourceful mother.

what i got what i got what i got i wanna give away

Today we had our senior class portrait taken. It was during my calc class, so that provided unbounded joy for me. Someone had the bright idea of taking it on the steep hill by the fields out back. The grass was wet. We were set up in rows. People kept on falling down the hill. What made it worse was that, if they were near the top, there was a bit of a domino effect down the hill as they knocked into the people in front of them. Oy yoi yoi. My school administrators are so clever! I bow to their unparalleled genius.

Then we all stood in the shape of a giant "03" in the field and the photographer took some shots of that. Personally I think that's much cooler than everyone standing around in rows on a hill. But it's still not nearly as cool as Helene's idea, which was to have the entire grade make a pyramid. A little difficult logistically, to be sure, but it would have been abso-freaking-lutely incredible.

Liiiiiistening to Luuuuuuuce!

Shin-dig is a funny word. I mean, it's a party, non? So what's so fun about digging with your shin? Now that I think about it, I guess that would be pretty difficult. Not much of a party at all, really.

Penguin Joe rules.

he covers his senses
he covers his eyes
stand on a corner holding a sign
begging the faces of women and men
and singing a chorus inside of his head
singing a chorus inside
and it says
help yourself
isn't that what you want
free yourself
isn't there a reason you should
take good care
take good care

Had a dream about "A Worn Path". Old Phoenix was going through a tunnel of snow and across sunny pastures. She had on a red winter hat. Last time I read english homework right before bed.

The box that the color ink cartridge comes in looks like a chicken McNuggets box. It's shaped the same. I thought that's what it was, when I first saw it, and I thought to myself "Hmm. What's that doing there?"

Must go fly along the channels of the electronic ether with my best bed 4eva Woodrow.

I mean, I have to go scan some pics. You know.

Anywho. Au. Revoir.

8:38 PM

Saturday, October 05, 2002  
Oh kay.

Two new CDs purchased, therefore you, dear readers, get two new Music Links. On the side. Where the Music Links are. They are Luce and Spoon. They will be posted on the side. They are already posted, if the template cooperates.

You love it. I know that I do.

4:51 PM

Thursday, October 03, 2002  
Aaaaaa! Stop beating me! Stop beating me! I'm sorry! I'll blog more often! I promise! Aaaaah!

You wouldn't understand anyways. *sniff*

My glorious visage was gracing the papers recently. Yeah, I looked a little goofy, but so did everyone in the picture. Such is life, non?

Um... o dear... it has been a little long, hasn't it?.... there's so very much to talk about...

The other day we were in biology and our teacher had this egg that she was showing us. It was rubbery and gooshy. She said that she had soaked it in vinegar to make the shell come off but leave the membrane on, so it was a raw egg without a shell. It was pretty cool. She said that she would break it for us at the end of class. So at the end of class she said "Hey, do you guys want to break this egg and see what's in it?"

Then she accidentally dropped it onto AJ's desk, and raw egg yolk and raw egg white and raw egg goo went flying all over the place and AJ lurched foward shouting "My stuff! My bag! My stuff!" and Ms. Holm-Anderson was standing there laughing, and egg was dripping everywhere. It was really funny.

Hum de dum. De dum.

Worked on the mural... we started painting the bits of it that are supposed to be floor.... unfortunately, we chose a color for that floor that is rather flesh-like in tone. In consequence, the people in the mural now appear to be standing on skin, a stomach perhaps. Not quite the effect we were going for. Oh well, all shall be rectified in time. In time.

Wrote a college essay today. It has a 500 word maximum, and it's 589 words. That's cut down from around 640. Damn. Damn. Dunno what I'm going to do. I can only hope that my english teacher has some insights into reductionism.

Oh, we had the weirdest english sub in the history of weird english subs today. This guy was either drunk, or high, or both. Or he could have been slightly impaired mentally. Anyways, he was so bizarre. He kept making all these hand signals... like he would ask us to be quiet, and he would do that yapping motion with his hands, you know? Freaky.

Then he got up in the middle of the class and said "I'm sorry to interrupt you kids, but I have a story to tell you." He then proceeded to tell us this long, rambling story about the potato famine in Ireland, and this guy who went to jail, and wrote all these poems there, and then got shipped to Austrailia, and then came to Boston, and then got a statue made near Fenway Park. It was like a 20 minute story, and it had nothing to do with anything that we were doing. He just randomly got up and started telling us this potato famine story. It was the very height of weirdness. Nothing compares.

Then when he finished his story, he wrote a love poem on the board. It was about red and white roses and passion. I kid you not. This is a substitute teacher. So he wrote a love poem on the board, and then he sat down. And the class was freaked out. And it was bizarre.

Really, really, highly unnatural substitute teacher behavior.

Father was on that Connie Chung show tonight. He was talking about the shoe bombing person. I don't really know why, because he is not in any way involved with that case, but what the heck. I watched it. He did fine right up until the end, and then he was making a particular point and his eyes bugged out and it was funny and me and my brother laughed.

Ha ha ha. Hee.

I really like Camus. He is existentialist, y'know. And, contrary to popular opinion, existentialism is very much not a depressing doctrine. It is highly individualistic, yes, but not necessarily depressing.

Thinking about getting the Luce CD.
Also thinking about going to Portfolio Day on Sunday.
Also thinking about taking my Psych notes.
Also thinking about running out into the street and screaming, "Walruses of the world- UNITE!!!" as loudly as I can.

Well. Maybe not.

By the joyful shouts emanating from the basement, I think that my brother has won another game of ping pong over my Dad. This games are now nightly, loud, and violent. Very, very violent.

Alors, je departe.

8:56 PM

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