Icky. I just feel icky. Icky icky icky.
And I should be doing work. Worky worky worky.
Wow. That wasn't juvenile in the least! I feel bad, because my mummy went out of her way to get me a paid account, and I never have the time to update it anymore. Stupid school. I mean, why do I need an education, anyway?
Speaking of. Apparently one person (one person) plagerised his final exam essay in AP English, and now we may all have to re-write ours. Mine was six pages! The teacher who was grading the papers thinks some of us may have re-used old essays from the class for these. That's impossible for me, since I've only written one other essay for the book (Daniel Deronda), and it wasn't worth copying. Granted, I didn't like the one I did write. I didn't get to say enough about anything. If I were to re-write it, it'd be longer, and I don't think any teacher wants to grade a really long paper. Which is why half of my papers are never graded anymore (by the way, I'd love some input on a T.S. Eliot explication I've been working over! Anybody?!?)! I want my teacher back...
Speaking of Eliot, I will have to post a picture of my The Inferno poster in here. Dante... what a card! Anyway, apparently Beatrice looks like a Jedi. I'm not fond of Star Wars myself, but, if it makes everyone else happy! Whatever floats your boat. I'm fond of the name "Disraeli". Don't know why, I just think it's a cool name. If you can see it all the way over on the back bench! Hahaha! ....never mind. "Radio? What radio?"
Oh, man, my jokes are becoming too Irish. Nobody will ever understand. Like "cynical idealist". At least I know Great Uncle Fitzy can sympathise! He was underappreciated. Like tweezers. I love a good pair of tweezers. Or purse-sized tissue containers. Especially during allergy season! And exclamation points! Lots and lots of exclamation points! See, in Disraeli's time, they used exclamation points far more often than we. Example: "O! may I join the choir invisible?" See, we'd write, "Oh, can I join the invisible chorus?"
You can, but you may not!
See? And exclamation! Brilliant! I'm menstrual! I wonder how easily that was confused in the Middle Ages for minstrel...! Or vice versa! I suppose it could still be confused nowadays, but only if you're as strange as I! Alright, that's really getting annoying.
AHH! Colonial House is ending! (Make the exclamations stop!) I'm going to miss the complaints, gripes, grumblings, and discord. I'm going to miss the happy times, and the bad. I'm going to miss having something to do on Sunday night besides watching Full House reruns of reruns of reruns. I'm not going to miss the Cape Merchant's old-man flab when he steals an opportunity to remove his shirt for all the ladies watching (gross). I will miss the new Governor's servant who writes funny plays and understands lots of languages, because I'll miss thinking, "Guys get all the best guys." I'll miss the Brits who are polar opposites: the stern and intense and slightly egotistical and creepy one who draws nearly as well as I do, and the sentimental and hysterical and verbose one who talks about being artistic but puts work for the community first. And their dresses. And me complaining that there aren't guys like that in America. And I'll miss the cranky housewives who happen to think that signing up for a show that requires you to follow Colonial law doesn't mean you're required to follow Colonial law. And I'll miss the chicken chasing.
I thought that meant Masterpiece Theatre would return, but apparently they're working MYSTERY! now. Bah. Nyeh, after the Forsythe Saga and Daniel Deronda, it went right down hill. Sad. I'm really bored... I should probably be making some kind of program... or poster... or something... Title's from SNL.
Diaryland, I love you. I don't think you hear it enough.