I was informed
last night that school was cancelled for today. That was the only motive needed to quit my feeble attempts to finish the overload of homework assigned by
bitter teachers out to get me.
The whole world is out to get me.
Set my alarm for ten twenty this morning, with the admirable intention to get an early start on studying for my final exam tomorrow. Of course, the blaring radio went unnoticed for close to an hour, and by then I was too subconsciously annoyed at the distraction to force myself to concentrate on french. Prepositions, direct objects, subordinate clauses… kiss my bum. I awoke long enough to whip up a batch of tasty, fluffy pancakes, gulp them down while reading Dune, and then I was back in bed before two in the afternoon. Not bad.
My brother finally broke through my sleepy defenses by playing Diablo 2 loud enough to shake the house with the madness of the Secret Cow Level. It was almost as bad as my alarm clock. I went upstairs and told him to turn it down a notch, and then watched Digimon and X-men and several other children’s cartoons to pass the time. Adam had baked cookies during my nap, which was a shock. He had also left the oven on at 375 degrees. I only noticed because both the cats were sitting in front of the heat-radiating door. I admit, I joined them there on the floor for a few moments of warmth. Okay, so I sat on the floor with two cats for ten minutes, in front of an open, empty, gas-emanating cooking device. It was fun.
I finished making my dad’s final Christmas present: a copy of every Prodigy cd I own. This took the greater part of two hours to complete. I even printed all the original cover art and discography to include with each case. I considered giving him the real copies of mine, and then I could keep their illegal sisters, but I must admit I did a damn fine job putting together the new stuff. They look better than the originals. Bitches.
side note: Yes, my dad listens to The Prodigy. He’s a cool old guy on occasion, except when he pulls his pants over his chest and struts around like a dorky peacock while the dog tries to bite him because his ski mask makes him look like a stranger. But every father does this, right? I thought so.
Jimmy came over after The Simpsons was finished. He was lucky to make it up the hill to the house, having that automatic transmission and everything. Poor guy. I made him eat a couple cookies and made sure his elbows didn’t poke holes in the walls. He spent q couple weeks in a hospital because his parents thought he did crack due to his unbelievable thinness. My mom swears he’s anorexic. I think he just has better things to do than eat.
Happy Birthday
to Dannye,
my own
personal hero.