This is sucking.
Well, going to get an update in here before I get too busy. Today was not too bad, until after school. Tomorrow Lara and Rachel and I are going to eat Ciabatta bread and olive oil and QUESO MANCHEGO and grape juice for lunch. Oh yummers. Yeah. So. That was the good part of the day.
After school, we all walk in the band room and there are these papers on the wall; we are now required to SIGN UP FOR BUSES. Everyone gets pissed. Paris tapes a fork to a piece of paper which says "Grab a pitchfork, vive la revaloucion," or the equivalent; Danny posts a "10 drummers, 12 guard, sorry, my van's full," paper, someone tapes upa folder that says "suggestion box," and people start slipping notes in. The directors rip our stuff down. Practice goes ahead as scheduled, except kids are riled up. This time, I have been pushed too far, but I really can't get into that right now.
So, practice. We find a praying mantis, which we keep on our stand until it flies away and onto the shed. It climbes up and we watch (Meaghan and Edgar watch in horror, and I laugh) as it attacks and eats a daddylonglegs (minus the legs). Then we see a carpenter bee. Yeah, that was practice.
After school, I talk to people online. People are pissed, but have cooled a little, and suggested we just sign up as we get on, which is what I was going to bring up in a leadership meeting if we have one (in which we would inevitably be told that "it's not a democracy," as always). I find out that about half the people who are likely going to be in Winter Perc are not going to be present for WGIs. Oh, my, the hilarity.
Pause here for pointless dress shopping with my mom. We didn't even hit a store with dresses before they closed. HOWEVER, I did buy the queso manchego, the BEST CHEESE IN THE WORLD.
Get home, I'm about to get on AIM right now, and so far it sounds like Mrs. Minge's in deep shit for TALKING to us (albeit they're rumors). Seriously. And this is all because of paranoid band moms who don't realize WE'RE EFFING MATURE ADULTS?! OR CLOSE TO?! COME ON! WHAT THE MOUNT SAINT HELENA HANDBASKET?!
I am pissed BEYOND WORDS.
And I still have to deal with the uniform thing, like I orginally planned. OH MY GOD.
After school, we all walk in the band room and there are these papers on the wall; we are now required to SIGN UP FOR BUSES. Everyone gets pissed. Paris tapes a fork to a piece of paper which says "Grab a pitchfork, vive la revaloucion," or the equivalent; Danny posts a "10 drummers, 12 guard, sorry, my van's full," paper, someone tapes upa folder that says "suggestion box," and people start slipping notes in. The directors rip our stuff down. Practice goes ahead as scheduled, except kids are riled up. This time, I have been pushed too far, but I really can't get into that right now.
So, practice. We find a praying mantis, which we keep on our stand until it flies away and onto the shed. It climbes up and we watch (Meaghan and Edgar watch in horror, and I laugh) as it attacks and eats a daddylonglegs (minus the legs). Then we see a carpenter bee. Yeah, that was practice.
After school, I talk to people online. People are pissed, but have cooled a little, and suggested we just sign up as we get on, which is what I was going to bring up in a leadership meeting if we have one (in which we would inevitably be told that "it's not a democracy," as always). I find out that about half the people who are likely going to be in Winter Perc are not going to be present for WGIs. Oh, my, the hilarity.
Pause here for pointless dress shopping with my mom. We didn't even hit a store with dresses before they closed. HOWEVER, I did buy the queso manchego, the BEST CHEESE IN THE WORLD.
Get home, I'm about to get on AIM right now, and so far it sounds like Mrs. Minge's in deep shit for TALKING to us (albeit they're rumors). Seriously. And this is all because of paranoid band moms who don't realize WE'RE EFFING MATURE ADULTS?! OR CLOSE TO?! COME ON! WHAT THE MOUNT SAINT HELENA HANDBASKET?!
I am pissed BEYOND WORDS.
And I still have to deal with the uniform thing, like I orginally planned. OH MY GOD.