Thursday, May 27, 2010

Yearbook Day

Thought of the Day: Never fear ; ; Summer's here.

Song of the Day: When the Day Met the Night by Panic! at the Disco (...in the middle of summer, all was golden in the sky...)


Yearbook day. What's the point of it? You run around all day swapping books and saying things like "I'll die if you don't sign this!" even though you've only talked to that person maybe twice and then you get in this panic because you don't know how to spell their name, in fact you might not even know their name at all. You flip wildly through the pages for their name, and when you do find it you get all suspicious like "what if this loser spelled it wrong too?" and by then the other person is all done with your book and standing there like a lump, holding your book out at arms distance and so you have to scribble something idiotic and grammatically incorrect like "Linzee! Lindsay! You rock! Wow let's played every single day at the summer and bee friends forevver! You rock! HAGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You rock! Love, Avery". Your pen started running out of ink in the middle of a sentence so you had to carve the last few letters in and ripped through three or four other pages in her book. You hesitate for a moment (Should I add my phone number? No, it's not like I actually want her to call me. Holy crap, how many exclamation points did I use? Wait. For Pete's sake I can't remember a single word I wrote. I'll just hold this for a little longer while you stand there like a moron.) Finally the yearbook is pried out of your fingers while you are still trying to remember what you said, and yours is shoved back into your hands. Frantically you turn to the page that Lindsay just signed, and for some reason you're hoping that she wrote something even stupider than what you said, and it turns out she just signed her name and suddenly the room is unbearably hot and airless and you're sweating and holy crap why can't you breathe?! You wrote entirely too much, got all up in Lindsay's personal yearbook space. She probably hates you. She's probably talking about you right now.

You see? Yearbook day is terribly stressful. I don't understand why we have it. I guarantee that I like maybe 5% of the people that signed my yearbook today. I basically lied to every person in my grade (Every girl is the "cutest girl on the planet!", everyone is my "bff". Gross.) but it would've been worse probably if I'd told the whole truth ("I hate you." or "Have we really ever met?" or "You have a lazy eye. Why?!").

Okay, so it was kind of fun though. Katie, my favorite, came with us and we took around a yearbook for Bia (a Brazilian goddess!) and got some cute boys to sign. ("Bia! You're so fine! Let's make out! Look me up, page 74. Matt C." Bahahaha.) Then there was some Del Taco so it turned out okay. Whatever.

But... wait for it.... IT IS OFFICIALLY SUMMER!!!!!!!! Well sort of. No more school, but since tomorrow's Friday, then there's the weekend, and Monday is Memorial Day, "official summer" isn't until Tuesday. Who cares though, NO MORE SCHOOL! Hoopla! Blaaa, I'm all hyper and having mild seizures because of this fact. I shall never wake up at 6:30 AM again! (Well, at least not until next year. Poo.)


Dear _________,
Have a fantastic summer. You're pretty.
Love,
Avery Jalaine

1 comment:

  1. Dear Avery. I find you particularly hysterical. But mostly you're an idiot. You make me giggle. You've inspired me to go actually write something worth reading on my own blog that probably includes the phrase, "It's boy stalking time." and the word/sound, "waaaaaa!" in varying octaves, as "waaaa" works (and means something different) in each octave. Pretty much I love you. And if I had signed your yearbook your yearbook this is what I would've written: "Ave. I remember when I first met you. You and Bree drove me home and you said, "I usually hate other people's friends, but I like you!!" Me too. I like you too. Love, Addy." (Also, knowing me, I would've perverted it in some way and then thrown a "that's what she said" joke in there somewhere.) And you would be like, "Addy is part of the 5% percent of people that I actually like that signed my yearbook." And then we would go to Del Taco and stalk some boys.

    ReplyDelete

Oh thanks. You're pretty.