I was going to post about my adventures last night seeing The Mummy Returns, but I have something far more important to post. Douglas Adams died last night. He was 49. I’m fighting back tears. Like Monkeysticks, Cult of Lincoln will have a day of silence in his memory.
We watched the end of Ferris Buheller during free period today. It was fabulous. I love that movie. Did you know that Matthew Broderick played Finch in the revival of “How to Succeed”? And now he’s starring in “The Producers”, which is supposed to be the funniest musical in the entire universe. I really have to see that show… Chad gave me a Producers shirt after H2$. His mom got to go to New York the week before, so she got to see it. Lucky.
Don’t be stupid, be a smartie! Come and join the Nazi party!
Woo! I keep forgetting to tell this story. The other day, I was eating dinner at Sushi on McKinney with my dad and Larissa and Steven, a pair of New Zelanders living with us at the moment. Anyway, we ran into one of my dad’s old friends from high school, and he was so cool! When Steven told him that he was an English teacher, he said “May the force be with you”. He referred to my school as “Hockatraz”, the common student nickname. He had all these Star Wars references in his normal speech. It was fabulous! Because he went to St. Marks, our “brother school”, he called my being in H2$ “consorting with the enemy”. I thought that was hilarious. When he left, I told him “May the force be with you”, and he gave me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. It was so nifty! ::squeals::
Yay! Blogger is working again! It was being rather skanky earlier today and not letting me post. ::skips about happily::
I was listening to the big song montage on Abbey Road (“She Came in Through the Bathroom Window”, to be precise) and I suddenly got this urge to dance. I was sitting in my computer chair, reading WOFS messages, singing the songs loudly, and waving my arms above my head. I’m glad I was home alone. That would have made a rather odd sight.
I got my Sundowner mousepad in the mail today! It’s so cool, it’s almost a shame to have to cover it with a mouse. ::stares at mousepad some more::
Anyway, today completely rocked. I got to have lunch with John Glen, the first American in space, who later became a U.S. senator, then returned to NASA several years ago to become the oldest man in space. First, he spoke to the Upper School during our Conference Period (a time of day where we’re supposed to meet with teachers, but is almost always taken up by assemblies); then he talked to the middle school during our lunch. He’s such a fabulous speaker. Plus, to wrap up, he gave us this talk on why people should be more involved in the government. It was so awesome. During lunch, somehow it slipped out to the school that Mackenzie and I were going to have lunch with John Glenn, so all these people started pestering us about it. We barely escaped with our lives.
He was still talking to the middle schoolers at 1, but we got out of class anyway. Mr Bradley, one of the teachers, said that he’d finish at 1:30, but it was actually 1:50 when he finally escaped from the huge crowds of insane middle schoolers, pleading for autographs. He actually had to sign a girl’s shoe. Anyway, we started lunch at about 1:55, with chicken caesar salad as opposed to the spaghetti that the rest of the school got. I was actually slightly jealous. I think that spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread is the best meal they serve at Hockayay (it’s fabulous!), and I really dislike salad. I managed to eat the whole thing, though. I would have felt really akward not eating anything just because I didn’t like salad. Of course, Senator Glenn barely ate anything at all because he was so busy talking about the space program, the government, etc. It rocked. We got out at about 3, meaning that I missed half my Bio class. When Rachel M. and I walked in, everyone was grilling us for details. They all thought that Senator Glenn was a fabulous speaker, and they all wished they could have been there. ::snickers::
Because we had to wear our dress uniform today, I actually wore a skirt for the first time this year. I only own one. Usually, I wear the shorts, which are part of the uniform, yet I’m the only one not in fourth grade that actually wears them. Anyway, about 20 people suggested that the world was going to end because I was wearing a skirt. Is it really that peculiar? I wore a dress in H2$. ::sighs::
You want to know what else is obnoxious? this fansite. It’s completely ripped off of my friend Renata’s website, Follow the Man. Go tell Kristen she’s a jerk.
youre a MAN
your back is hairy
your a man
youre smell is scary
but most of all
you arent a fairy
youre a beer drinking, chevy driving man.
when the meat comes out
you do the carving
you hate tom cruise
but you love lee marvin…
I’ve *got* do listen to some of The Full Monty OBCR….
NOOOO! I just posted a huge entry on why my photography class is mind-numbingly evil, but Blogger lost my entry because it claimed I wasn’t logged in! ::attacks Blogger with a baseball bat::
I’ve got to stop waking up to “Abbey Road” every day. And going to school, too, for that matter. I just had this weird dream that one of the Beatles, instead of having brown eyes and brown hair, had bright blue eyes and bright blond hair (I think it was Ringo). For some reason, I got the privelige of getting to go into their dressing room while they were putting on their stage makeup for a performance. Only three were there. If I remember correctly, the missing Beatle was George. Anyway, I got to have my pick of the three Beatles there, and my mind told me to pick the blond/blue eyed one so that we could determine my genotype through our offspring. (Yes, too much Honors Biology can do that to you). However, despite his attractive recessive genes, I picked Paul. Some time goes on, and the U.S. starts learning that Hitler is gaining power. Evidently it was the forties instead of the sixties. Anyway, for some reason, the blond/blue eyed Beatle was in danger *because* of his blond hair and blue eyes. (Yeah, I know it was the other way around. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with my subconscious.) Then I woke up.
I think this whole “husband picking” thing has to do with my friend Marcelina’s new suggestion: the Husband-of-the-Month Club. She marries Paul McCartney, Elizabeth Burkhead marries Craig Charles, Chloe Slocum marries Alan Cummings, and I marry Johnny Depp, then occasionally, we switch. Sounds like a good plan to me!