It's All About the Benjamins

Jump to Comments No, no monster truck rallies, sorry. Nor crazy Strong Bad stuff, for that matter. Anyhow, Friday was a day of most excellence. Woke up late, per susual, got to school on timeish, blah blah. Chem was enjoyable. We did some stuff, and maybe took a test, or a quiz, or something. I’m not sure– everything before 8 o’clock tends to be a blur to me. Second Period the famous P. Schmiddy announced her boyfriend (or whatever, doesn’t matter now) proposed to her the neight before, so class was more just everybody being excited than it was studying English Sonnet rhymescheme like it was in the lesson plan. Speaking of which…

P. Schmid, she did let loose the dogs of noise,
During that second period class that morn,
A whoop went up from a few good old boys,
Who had that night through en’my torn.
A ring on her finger right there did lie,
And only one thing then it could have meant,
And for this the class had its spirit high–
And not from th’calling of someone’s parent,
But from corny phrases about her life–
Chapters thereof; or something else likewise,
Not like I prob’ly could have said better
Things so I’m not the one to give advice–
What else can I rhyme here to match ‘better’?
But if you do at this sonnet give jeer,
Realize that I am no Billy Shakespeare.

Wow, that turned out better than I expected. So, uh, the rest of school was mainly tests, though we had some fun in seventh period listening to a public defender talk about crazy court cases with which he’s been involved. After the party, it’s the Waffle House school there was the Ultimate Frisbee tournament, to which I went, and announced for a little bit. Speaking of announcements, various persons announced the Pfanschmidt news no less than five times, which became more and more humorous after each iteration. The Seniors beat the Sophomores, but still came in second to the Juniors, mainly because the star Junior is the lab aide for the night’s ref, but partially because we in the control booth didn’t creatively slow down the clock enough as the Seniors mounted a comeback late in the game.

Dannach, I went to der Kò des Burgers and had a double whopper, because I don’t thimk I had much for lunch. To kill some more time, I went to TEH RITTARDZ FROZAN CUSTARED and got the usual. As Matt wasn’t working, the service was slow as all get-out. But uh, anyway, that killed enough time for me to get back to the Football Stadium right as the Lacrosse game began.

Lacrosse, or La Crosse, or “Silly French Name for Pretty Interesting Iroquois-derived Sport” as I enver call it, is, uh, pretty interesting, in addition to having a silly French name and being derived from the Iriquois. What isn’t interetsing, though, and in fact downright scary is to have a bunch of freshmen girls trying to talk to you while you watch it. I’m sorry, folks, just because I say hello to you in the hallway and happen to know your older siblings doesn’t mean I’m old chums with you, or whatever. Anyhow, the Zionsville boys decisively thrashed Park Tudor (Park Schmooder!) 7 to 4. I jeered the fools mentioning that they pay more for high school than most pay for college to get thoroughly trounced by the best public school in the state. Oh, and in academics, too. HAHE ROBBLE ROBBLE 8D

After the game there was ye olde MORP dance at the school. See, MORP is the reverse of ‘Prom’, hur hur hur. Hung out with Popeshirt, Doggimus Maximus and ORRRR! for a while, but the Maximum in Doggitude left because all he ever does is sell frozen custard and play Dork Age of Carmelot or whatever, and ORRRR! had his girlfriend or whatever with him, so Herr Leunig and I decided to practice our fencing techniques with empty 2-liters of Sprite, because it’s not like we would dance or anything. I mean, come on. Dance at a dance? Pfft.

Yeah, I ended up talking to MSG and P. Schmiddy after a while, as they were doing the Chapperonage. I don’t remember much about it, except perhaps politics or something– but not with the P.

After the dance I ended up at the Shake and Steak, where I had some milk and chicken soup. Popeshirt proceeded to razz me for it, for whatever reason. I mean, it’s midnight– not a time for ground beef and carbonated beverages. There were some other people from school there, and we all ended up leaving at the time. Greg proceeded to smoke them all in his little manual 2-door “Laser” or whatever the heck he has. And that was about it for that day.