blog inside a blog inside oblong

So for French, the prof wanted us to start a blog on wordpress.com, written wholly in French, as you can imagine.

If you'd like, you can check out my progress at
rpe4186.wordpress.com , though I only have one post so far. I went with the "misty look" skin.

I like that class.


I like most all of my classes. Although, I feel like a jerk because twice now I've been late to my 9:00a political sci class, and had promised to sit with my friend who's been saving me a seat for TWO DAYS NOW. And twice, I've ended up coming in late, and disturbing the class to squeeze behind everyone, making them hate me and curse me to hell in their minds.

Today was particularly special because I got my leg stuck between my seat and the seat of the guy next to me. He wouldn't move, so I had to look physically retarded for about ten whole seconds. It was just embarrassing.

The only thing that made this day alright was about 3 things:

1. My hair didn't look completely gay today.
2. The weather was awesome, to me anyway.
3. Some people laughed at some joke I made in class. Usually when I make a joke, no one but someone who sort of knows me, ever laughs. I think they're so taken aback that I've actually said something. I keep to myself in class pretty often.

Today, my phone didn't work. Like, I couldn't send out calls or texts. It's because the T-mobile people used the money for MY bill, and applied it to my mom's because she was the one making the payment.

So lunch comes, and something happens that I NEED to talk about. And I CAN'T TEXT ANYBODYY. Oh, it was devastating. These people NEEDED to be made fun of. They were practically on their knees, tugging on my sweater with tears in their eyes, begging me to say something. And I couldn't.

It was basically this large guy and skinny girl. Dressed as your average courtyard kid regulars. It was what they were talking about..and then the girl would just burst out in song, just loud enough so that it wasn't to herself. And the guy would either look at her admiringly, or close his eyes, as if savoring the finest wine. Sometimes, he'd ask questions about the song. She'd never answer him, though. She'd just keep singing, and he'd keep asking different questions...maybe she was answering him with her eyes..somehow. You should see my face right now having to relive this.

I mean, I would understand if she COULD sing, or if we were in a large area. But..she couldn't. And we weren't. The room was about the size of a large living room.

Actually, I lied. There's no excuse for her.

It was also pretty maddening because it seemed like I was the only person noticing this. There was a table of middle-aged women talking about Jesus or Christianity..I couldn't really make out a whole sentence, but I'd catch biblical words here and there. But, they couldn't even spare a dissenting look in their directions. And all the while, I'm looking at them with daggers in my eyes, and searching for someone, ANYONE to recognize and share in this hilarity with. I might've had an aneurysm.