Wow.
Things I've done this week:
Went back on higher dosage of hormones for endometriosis, resulting in
some truly fucked up mood swings.
Challenged Jesse Ledbetter to a highly competitive game of Super Mario World.
Dominated Attempted AP Calculus AB exam.
Dominated Attempted AP English Literature exam.
Learned I was exempt from all semester exams. (Yay!)
Played the truant with Peyton Mathis. (More Yay!)
Sealed my AP Art portfolio. (Even More Yay, Now with 50% Less Fat!)
Drove my sister to get engaged.
That's right. Melissa is now engaged to Justin Reynolds. Earlier this evening, he parked his car on Tankersly, the street intersecting Sedgefield in a T, ran through our next door neigbor's yard, jumped their fence, ran through our backyard, jumped our fence, ran around our front yard to the porch, rang the doorbell, left a note, then ran back through said yards, jumping said fences, to discern the scene from his car. (Scary fact: Apparently, from my neighbor's front yard on Tankersly, you can see all the way through our house and into our front porch, thanks to strategically placed windows. Eek.) He watched to make sure she got the note, then sped off. The note was addressed to Melissa in Justin's scratchy handwriting and read, "Meet me at the church alcove." Much squealing ensued.
Now, let me interrupt with a little background history: my dad, mom, and I all knew Justin was going to propose this weekend, and Melissa, snoop that she is, had already discovered the receipt for the ring; however, we didn't expect it to be tonight.
Back to the recount. Melissa started hyperventilating, as you do, because she suddenly realized the reality of the situation. Then in a moment of paranoia, she feared that the sender might not be Justin, but in fact, a rapist. I volunteered to drive her, since afterall, "rapists send their victims invitations to meet them in the alcoves of Methodist churches." So we drove along in silence, listening to my Damien Rice CD (as mood music, it's tres apropros). When she still hadn't calmed down by the time we reached the alcove, I hugged her, told her I loved her, and then shoved her hyperventilating ass out of my car since it was rude to keep the boy waiting.
Fast forward to the engagement. Justin had the place lit with candles, because he's an original romantic like that. ;) He made up for the lack of creativity with the actual proposal, which came in the form of a song. All very Moulin Rouge. And as for the ring, it is a platinum 1 (1 1/2? couldn't tell) CT. gorgeous number he bought in the diamond district of New York, thanks to the help of Emily and ol' Bruce.
So yea, she said yes! :D
Went back on higher dosage of hormones for endometriosis, resulting in
some truly fucked up mood swings.
Challenged Jesse Ledbetter to a highly competitive game of Super Mario World.
Dominated Attempted AP Calculus AB exam.
Dominated Attempted AP English Literature exam.
Learned I was exempt from all semester exams. (Yay!)
Played the truant with Peyton Mathis. (More Yay!)
Sealed my AP Art portfolio. (Even More Yay, Now with 50% Less Fat!)
Drove my sister to get engaged.
That's right. Melissa is now engaged to Justin Reynolds. Earlier this evening, he parked his car on Tankersly, the street intersecting Sedgefield in a T, ran through our next door neigbor's yard, jumped their fence, ran through our backyard, jumped our fence, ran around our front yard to the porch, rang the doorbell, left a note, then ran back through said yards, jumping said fences, to discern the scene from his car. (Scary fact: Apparently, from my neighbor's front yard on Tankersly, you can see all the way through our house and into our front porch, thanks to strategically placed windows. Eek.) He watched to make sure she got the note, then sped off. The note was addressed to Melissa in Justin's scratchy handwriting and read, "Meet me at the church alcove." Much squealing ensued.
Now, let me interrupt with a little background history: my dad, mom, and I all knew Justin was going to propose this weekend, and Melissa, snoop that she is, had already discovered the receipt for the ring; however, we didn't expect it to be tonight.
Back to the recount. Melissa started hyperventilating, as you do, because she suddenly realized the reality of the situation. Then in a moment of paranoia, she feared that the sender might not be Justin, but in fact, a rapist. I volunteered to drive her, since afterall, "rapists send their victims invitations to meet them in the alcoves of Methodist churches." So we drove along in silence, listening to my Damien Rice CD (as mood music, it's tres apropros). When she still hadn't calmed down by the time we reached the alcove, I hugged her, told her I loved her, and then shoved her hyperventilating ass out of my car since it was rude to keep the boy waiting.
Fast forward to the engagement. Justin had the place lit with candles, because he's an original romantic like that. ;) He made up for the lack of creativity with the actual proposal, which came in the form of a song. All very Moulin Rouge. And as for the ring, it is a platinum 1 (1 1/2? couldn't tell) CT. gorgeous number he bought in the diamond district of New York, thanks to the help of Emily and ol' Bruce.
So yea, she said yes! :D