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Almonds Taste Good With MandarinesA Typical School Day
7.00am
The horrible alarm that dad just put in is being a shitface again. It doesn't stop either. It just keeps on beeping over and over again. I get out of bed and walk over to it and smash the time button. That somehow turns off the alarm. I stumble back to bed and sink into the pillow.
7.00am
I set the clock back a minute when I hit the time button, and it wakes me up again. I turn the power off and go back to sleep.
7.40am Dad turns the light on and off, opens the curtains, and pulls the blanket off my bed. I groan and pull it back on. This repeats itself a few times before dad says it's time to get up. I reply with a typical, "I'm just stretching my back." He nods and leaves.
7.45am Dad wakes me up again. And I can't use the stretching excuse twice, so I roll myself off the bed and collapse into something small and sharp that is bound to be there. I moan a few times and commando crawl (in a demented way) to the bathroom. I wash my hands. Walking out, I remember I went in to have a shower. 8.03am I've just finished getting dressed and I walk out to the kitchen table and eat my breakfast. I try to put as little as possible cereal in the bowl, but it all falls out onto my plate. I try to put it back in and it goes everywhere. I get told off by some douche for double dipping. 8.15am I'm in the car on the way to the bus stop (I'm too lazy to walk a kilometre or two (I'm too lazy to do the measurement)) (two brackets ending both of the bracket things.. or a double chin) (I bet this is confusing you) and Dad is giving me a lecture on how he came into my room four times to wake me up. Obviously I only heard him twice. He then says that getting at the bus stop seven minutes early is not good enough (not in those exact words). 8.25am The bus comes. I walk onto it and past all the Year Sevens at the front to find a free spot. Half the time I have to sit next to somebody, which is okay depending on who it is (I know no one on my bus). The other half of the time I manage to get a free two seats, which is later taken up by an idiot on the last stop. HALF MY BUS gets on at the last stop! I say they just eliminate it altogether, and we could fit everybody off Racing Road (or something to do with horse racing, I dunno) into the one bus, instead of two. And there would still be spare seats as well.
8.34am I step off the bus, greeted by a TUCK YOUR SHIRT IN YOU'RE A FILTHY MAGGOT BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR SHIRT SUFFOCATING YOUR THROAT BECAUSE IT'S JUST SO BLOODY TIGHT AROUND THE NECK AND YOUR PANTS ARE TOO LONG AND DON'T WALK PAST US BECAUSE THEN WE CAN'T YELL AT YOU! and slowly make my way towards the lockers. I walk past the jocks-and-people-who-think-they're-cool-because-they-drink-and-go-to-parties group, the year sevens, various people walking for no reason, Noonan (not Jake) impersonating John Howard singing 70's pop music, and a bunch of girls running and screaming because it's raining very lightly. I reach my locker and grab my books for the next class.
8.45am Homeroom. The little place before period one that the year 7-10's are split into five mixed classes where all the announcements are made. Hardly anybody listens and some people do homework because they couldn't be stuffed the previous night. Whenever the teacher makes a reference to period (as in period one is 9am til 9.50) the year sevens giggle. The bell goes and hell begins. 9.00am First period. My music class is greeted by my English teacher. We enter and put our books down. After about ten minutes of the class giving me a headache, the teacher manages to calm some people down. We then start the drum rhythyms.
Foot, snare, foot foot, snare. Foot, snare, foot foot, snare.
Foot, snare, foot foot, snare.
Foot, snare, foot foot, snare.
We then go to the guitars and play Get Back - which is made up of only two chords. Pathetic.
9.50am We're now in bush pig territory. Our maths class is run by the Harry-enator and her voice is just so horrible. We have about fifty minutes to do a bunch of questions. She demands we do it for homework but nobody does. 10.40am
Recess. Twenty five minutes of pure boredom. We (me and a few friends) manage to walk around the oval and down to the secret refuge areas (used to hide from douches that follow us - I thought of the title, like the originality? Note the sarcasm). Either Jayden or Jeff has to go to the canteen to buy lunch. 11.05am Indonesian classes are a drag. Wally (from Where's Wally) goes off at us for coming in late (despite him coming in less than a minute before us - also late). We then learn about akamak togok liko uki lana mano which are made up words shut up, and then Wally tells us about how he got to Australia from England again. 11.55am Colouring in session. Yay! Religion classes. 12.45pm Lunch begins. This is just an extended version of recess. 1.25pm Sport begins. Half the class aren't wearing the correct sport uniform, therefore unable to participate. Some lazy or spoiled people go to sick bay near the end of lunch to avoid this class. The rest have to sit there listening to a subsitute (our real teacher is hardly ever there) lecturing us about the importance of wearing the uniform. We start up with a warm up game of modified dodgeball, skittles, bombardment - whatever crappy name you like. A girl in my class screams - a tennis ball rolls past her feet at just under two kilometres an hour. That's just so scary, right. Some of the girls scream way too much. Temporary deafness follows. Footy takes over the phys ed. class. We do some drills then head into a game. Then we get changed back into usual uniform. 3.15pm The bell rings and I'm able to leave this prison. I get to my bus. Half the seats are already taken up by friggin Year Sevens. They love the buses. They race eachother to the bus and then lay down on a three seater, and put their bags on other seats. These are apparently "reserved" or "saved" for other Year Sevens. I'm stuck in some crappy spot because the bus driver won't let harm come to anybody (ie: somebody thirteen or older sitting down).
3.35pm
I get off the bus and walk the kilometre or two back home. Sometimes halfway through I can hitch a ride with my parents (who are picking up my younger siblings - they don't have to walk). 4.00pm
I collapse onto the couch and do one long moan.
4.05pm I stop moaning and turn on the telivision. There's nothing good on - there's never anything good on telivision (except of course antiques roadshow - ergh), because television is shithouse thing to waste your time on. I lay down on the couch for a while, hoping to get to sleep. My sibilngs begin screaming and running after eachother causing the dog to bark. Mum has the radio on to that blasted VEGA channel, and she turns it up full blast when some fucked up song comes on. Going up to the end of the driveway is the only thing that can cure this (and our driveway is about 100 metres long, that's how loud her music is). I try to get motivated to do homework, but nobody can fake that homework might bring something good along later in life - because it hardly ever happens. 6.00pm Dinner time. Sometimes we have horrible soup, but if it is Friday we get the traditional fish and chips. On some nights I realise I have Oliver! rehearsals. There goes homework. 7.00pm After driving twenty minutes to get to Oliver! in Rosebud (where the bunyips are), I walk into Oliver rehearsals. We rehearse the same song over and over for two and a half hours. Then we go home. 10.00pm I get home and turn on the radio on Triple M to hear the beloved Spoonman. I listen to him, trying to stay awake until the house goes to sleep. If I got caught doing homework now they'd yell at me for not doing it before. I can't be stuffed once the Spoon Man finishes at midnight and try to get to sleep. Mum's music is still loud, just not full blast. I don't get to sleep until about 1.00am to 3.00am in the morning. I get about five or six hours of sleep, then I wake up for school. Note: Some of this stuff - like Oliver! or the classes don't happen the same or at all on monday through to friday. And the Spoon Man isn't on friday =( But this is what usually happens. Enjoy. Middle NamingTeachers are getting stupider and stupider. And now they're starting to use the age old trick (which doesn't work). Saying your name at the end of the sentence. It kind of started with mothers and then it spread to the rest of the family. It's called middle-naming. Instead of just yelling out your name if you get in shit, they use your middle name and last name as if it'll get your attention. Middle naming hasn't happened to me around the house for years, but at school it's just oh so horrible.
"EVERYBODY BE QUIET!!" The Webb yells. She then looks around the room for somebody who's talking. Everybody keeps on talking and nobody pays attention. Then she starts naming people. "Be quiet, ANDREW." I don't shut up, but she doesn't really care. She goes on to name other people. If she still doesn't get through she'll start sending people to the front of the laboratory (because nobody really wants to sit near her at the front - we're all taking refuge at the back). Then people start to hush down. I mean, ooh, she's moving us, that makes a difference. Sometimes people stop talking when their name is called. She's just saying your name. If we're not listening now, what makes her think we're listening when she puts our name at the end of a sentence? They're getting stupider with punishments. They just give away afterschools so often that nearly everybody (including the suck-upping year sevens) has had at least one. If they aren't getting through to us, try a different approach. Some kid didn't even get suspended for throwing a chair at a fan, and having in classroom wars. But then again, where's the fun if they did get suspended? School's getting boring now. All this shit used to be funny, and now it's just old. Except Michael's tricks. He's a bloody legend. Not A Moment In HistoryThis happens all the time, but nobody (meaning not very many people) takes any notice in what I'm about to say. It all happened like this.
Panic! At The Disco - Ever heard of 'em before? Well they used to be an emo-tryhard band according to the mainstream public. You know those bands, like My Chemical Romance, that everybody hates because they look like stereo-typical emos? Well Panic! At The Disco was one of them, and if you listened to them you'd suddenly be considered an emo. But wait, somebody puts it on the radio. It instantly goes into the Top 40 and record sales increase massively. But the weird thing is that now the band isn't an emo band anymore. And you won't get called an emo for listening to them, because if that happened it meant every teenybopper/slut would be an emo, which would mean bad news for the economy because nearly everybody hates emos.
Don't friggin whinge about how emos are attention seeking by crying and cutting their wrists. Anybody who says that is yelling out to the world, "Look at me! I'm being a hypocrite by calling people whingers when I am one myself!" By the way, if emo rhymes with screamo, shouldn't the plural for emo (emoing) be eming?
I'm over this whole emo crap that all these toolheads are cooking up in the Ready Steady Cook! kitchen. They're all douches, because there is no such thing as conformism. EVERYBODY is different. Just think, how many people who are called emo actually slit their wrists and cry non-stop? How many teenyboppers like the same person (about ten). Everybody is an individual. Sure, they may not show any sign of a personality but trust me, they have one.
Edit: I forgot to mention thanks to my friend Jayden for the idea about Panic At The Disco (the rest of the blog was 100 per cent original). I would have never have found that out myself because I don't listen to mainstream radio as much as he does =P Who's Wally?I have come to a conclusion that my indonesian teacher, Mr. O'Brien, is the well known striped t-shirted Wally from the book we all know and love - Where's Wally. But why do I think this?
Because Mr. O'Brien wears the same clothes every day - He must have a whole wardrobe just devoted to that same jumper, same pants, same shirt and same shoes if you really want to go into details. I'm being serious. Never have I seen him out of those clothes. Wally wear's a red and white striped t-shirt all the time. Coincidence? I think not.
And.. that's all I had. But it doesn't matter. Apparently he went to some place in Frankston called Kittens for prostitutes or something like that. Does that mean Wally does as well?
Well I think Centrelink needs to know. They need to know bloody everything nowardays. Oops, I'm staying in Melbourne on the weekend. Centrelink needs to know. Oops. I'm saying hello to somebody at school. Centrelink needs to know. Oops. I forgot to put the chained pen* at the Junior Admin back in the pen holder thing. Centrelink needs to know. Oops. I took a breath. Centrelink's gonna murder me. *Why do they chain pens down anyways. It's not like anybody's gonna steal them *shifted eyes*. MoviesTomorrow I'm going to the movies with a friend of mine. Originally I had a whole bunch of mates coming, but most of them weren't at school today, which probably means they won't be able to find out the times and stuff like that. I've only got Jayden and Sophie coming. I hope Jayden doesn't bail though, because then it'll look like I'm asking out Sophie on a date.
We're seeing Pirates of the Caribbean tomorrow. It looks pretty good, but I have my doubts. Most sequels are just pieces of shit, but somehow this one is going to be different. It's like one of those vibes when you know who loves who, or who's going to win in the football. The first one was pretty decent. There's a whole lot of movies I want to see, like Tokyo Drift, and Click. I've already seen a whole bunch of movies but the best would have to be the ones I've forgotten right at this very moment. I'll name some I can remember. * - Horrible ** - Poor *** - Satisfactory **** - Good ***** - Excellent
**** - About A Boy
It was a fairly good movie. I can't really remember what happens in it, but it was good.
*** - The Sandlot
About a bunch of boys who get a baseball hit over a fence. There's a vicious dog over there somewhere and they try and get it back. It's boring, but it's good to watch once in while
*** - The Pokemon Movie I s'pose it's better then that horrible Hooley Dooley crap my sister's into.
Negative Five Stars - Madagascar, Over The Hedge, Monsters Inc. , any other crap movie Half of those I haven't even seen but they aren't worth anything. The commercials alone are nearly as bad as Simple Plan. I can't believe I've sunk as low as doing movie reviews.. Hello Hello!Hello hello! Chris and Marie's Plant Farm! I'm standing nude behind a neighbours begone tree because they're just so cheap come and buy them because they're better then everybody elses and we're closing down another two stores in Carrum Downs because our prices are so cheap so buy from us pleeeaasseee*. Oh come on, c'mon! You're a dickhead! C'mon!. Awww give it. GIIIVEE IT.
Chris and Marie need more originality for their ads. That's why we've got a weight loss expert here to tell us all about it.. which is me in disguise.
Chris & Marie (talking at the same time telekenetically): So, why do we need to make our ads better? Andrew (In Disguise): Because they're shithouse. You need something more original.
Chris & Marie: Like what? I think we're good enough right now. People can't get them out of their heads!
Andrew (In Disguise): That's why you get new ones. So people don't start hating you for it.
Chris & Maire: Any suggestions? Transformers, Robots In Disguise: Maybe keep all of your stores open for at least two weeks. Oh, and don't put Chris nude in every one of your television commercials. Not a good look. Chris (grumpy) & Marie: ... full stop full stop full stop.
What I really hate about commercials though, is that they're on during the Spoon Man (radio show), and during the footy. Especially that one about Heelllllooooo! Frank Waaallltterrr from National Tiiiiles.
Yes, that was pronounced please-eeee. Makes Their Day"Old people are living longer these days, which means they've got more time to complain. And when old people complain, things get banned!" - David Firth
That line is completely true. There's two kinds of old people, I s'pose. The old people and the very old people. The Old People are lovable. They're the sort of people who sit around knitting or laughin all day, and when you get home they wiggle you around by your nose and say, "Do you want a biscuit?". They're the people who taught you the age old song: Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? They smile all the time and say hello when you're walking down the street because it makes their day, and always laugh when you say anything as if it's the funniest thing ever, even if what you're saying is a terrorism scheme.
"Hey Gran! I'm going to kill everybody in my class!" "Hahaha *friendly laugh*! You have fun with that, dear." The very old people enbrace death. They want it to come. They're horrible. They're the sort of people who sit around barking at everybody all day, or watching the cricket and going off at people who walk past the telivision screen. When you get home they wiggle you on the nose and say, "I've got your NOSE!! And I'm not going to give it back!" How horrendous. I've lost six noses this way. They teach you about the age old song Mozart's Symphony of Illustrious Balloon Dances (or some stupid song like that). If they aren't annoyed enough to come out of the house, walking on the street path in front of the house will cause an almost certain arousel. Whenever you say something they manage to change the subject to something utterly ridiculous. "Hey Gran! I'm Going to kill everybody in my class!" "Hmm. Not a very good idea. Wait a second, don't run. I'll tell you why. NO! BACK. Well it all started in North America it is often rendered as a hat trick, with no hyphen. You see, The Ofxford English Diction has it unhyphanated and gives a variety of examples published in the 19th and 20th centuries both with and without the hyphen full stop bracket (read my last blog if you don't understand why they went on about this). A Hat Trick.. ?From what I've figured out, a hat-trick means you've done something good in sport three times in a row... blogging is a sport, right? Yeah, that's right: Three blogs in three days. Well, it comes to my attention that why the hell are they called hat-tricks ? Let's see what Wikipedia™ The Free Encyclopedia (couldn't resist) says.
On The Wikipedia-SpyCam:
A hat-trick in sports is associated with the succeeding at anything three times in three consecutive attempts. In North America it is often rendered as a hat trick, with no hyphen. (The Oxford English Dictionary has it unhyphenated and gives a variety of examples published in the 19th and 20th centuries both with and without the hyphen.)
Which perfectly explains why.. no wait, what? It's called a hat-trick because the Oxford English Dictionary has a variety of published 20th... I can't be stuffed saying all that shit. Basically a hat-trick means overuse of the word hyphen and it's different forms. Well that proved to be crap. Wikipedia's going to be my next rant on the kill list of Japan-styled sushi-complexes that involve major computer crashes.
Meanwhile, a paper clip was getting rusty. "Oh no.. I'm rusting. Nooooooo *dies from lack of sawdust* .." - I'm thinking of actually publishing Johnathon and the Giant Stapler. It'd make a good replacement for this Boobah crap my sister used to watch if it was made a telivision show. Wow, I Actually Update NowI s'pose that's a surprise for you all. The new-and-improved Andrew updates more than once every five weeks. - Don't count on it.
Well, I've got rehearsals again tonight. The self-proclaimed music nazi demands singing again. All of the songs that I have to sing has a massively high note in it, and my voice is breaking. Not really a good situation. I've noticed this in the music director and a lot of other people. They always apologise and call themselves ugly through a sort of joke.
ie: I know none of you want to look at my ugly face *bursts into laughter, some of the younger kids do too* but you'll have to to know when to sing. Andrew's comment: Or you could just look at the music.
But then when you actually do say something about them (not necessarily her being ugly, you'd get killed for that), they get all aggro and annoyed at you. My mother puts on a happy face when she's around guests or people we don't usually see, but otherwise she's non-stop grumpy. I think she's became worse ever since she got completely hooked to this I am a psychic thing. After all, she did create Communist Cornucopia.
Cornucopia is apparently the name of our property now. Mum chose it, typically. She bosses dad around all day and then gets angry with him. She chooses everything and gets nearly anything done if she wants it to be done. Cornucopia means harmony. So basically our house is harmony? Bullshit. My younger siblings have taken to annoying the hell out of me even more than they used to, particularly by breathing. Nonetheless, it's just people yelling at eachother to be quiet most of the time. She made all these new rules because I didn't get spot-on marks for my report. And I might have to move to one of those up-tight private schools. I go to a privaty sort of school now, but not one of the really strict ones that make you wear socks up to your knees. Now I'm thinking why I'm not doing my homework now. Hmmm.. fuck it. I'm BackI've gotten the understudy for the play I'm in, called Oliver. It doesn't really mean much to me whether I got the main part or not. Maybe that's a bad thing. Well, nonetheless I only really ever get excited about going there because I talk to people there. If it weren't for that I'd quit. It's just the music director yelling shit at you non-stop, which tends to get annoying after a while. She takes interest in what I'm disappointed in - moving people. In particular her daughter for just being her daughter and me for no apparent reason. And somehow, all the other children in the chorus seem taken back by that.
"Ooh, she's moved somebody, we all have to turn and look at Andrew or Sophie now."
Well, to be honest, the MD gets pissed off at everybody. I got the understudy because I didn't put enough emotion into the character. Instead it went to a girl four years under the age of what the part is. It would be bad actmanship (I made that word up) to hate them for that, so I don't, but my God it's just a little disappointing losing to them.
Sometimes people just use you. Well, not exactly use you, but lull you into a false sense of trust. They don't exactly break the trust but they leave it. People just talk me up, become better friends with me, but as I've figured out, only for one thing. To find out who I like. Once they've popped the question and received an answer they don't need to know anything else. They already know you inside out there (note sarcasm). I've lost heaps of people this way. I know somebody who's going to ask about it on Monday, so that's going to be the last one. Hardly anybody after that, just for that reason. Oh well. I'm off to jail again tomorrow. We'll probably be learning about brick walls and what happens when you mix water with urine. And a double colouring in session will just have to be included. I hope we don't get another meeting with the bush pig.
Translation: Oh well. I'm off to school again tomorrow. We'll probably be having a geography class and do some science crap. Perhaps a double religion class will have to be included. I hope we don't have any more math classes.
Andrew The Roof Seal |
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