Wednesday, September 9, 2009

-What do you call cheese that isn't yours? -- NACHO cheese!

School's been busy, which is why I've been such a bad girl and not written in a while. What with the intolerably, utterly, ridiculously huge mounds of AP US history notes I've had to take, the lengthy Latin translations, and confusing compositions due for music theory, I've not had a whole lot of free time on my hands.
Also choir has been slowly eating at my soul with its very cliche medlies about world peace. Major thirds can only be used so much in an attempt to harmonize, my dear music arrangers...sheesh.
In other slightly more splendid news, The quails are getting bigger! Antoinette has developed light brown stripey feathers, Maude is turning a very pretty lavender shade of grey, Sufjan is almost black but with blue tints when he's in the right light, and Flip is still very very blue n' ginger. They still are a bit scared of me, but will now eat out of my hand.
Let me see, what else... Oh, on the 14th I will be auditioning for two plays: The first,our old favorite The Sound of Music. I'm planning on auditioning for either Leisl or Frederic, depending on the amount of prepubesent boys that try out. The second is entitled Rumors, and it's about a dinner party. That's all I know about it as of now, but there's a character who's description is nothing more than "A bundle of nerves". Nervous characters are always fun to play..
On a diferent note, all the allegedly depressed scene kids who are infilterating my territory are grinding my last nerve into irked little shreds.
I am cold, I am sleepy, I love nacho cheese, and there is little more to say. I must away, I still have to finish my blasted homework.

Side note: For those of you who actually look at this blog [anyone? anyone out there??] I've changed it, because the whole red n' purple scheme I had going on was giving me a little bit of a seizure every time I saw it. So. Plus I think mayhap I should mature this a little bit, to reflect more of myself and less of my mid-sophomore-year self. For that self was not a very splendid self...

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