I attended the Stupidest Assembly Of All Time today during seventh hour, Geometry.

It was supposed to be an assembly to elect the freshman class officers, but it didn't turn out that way. It turned into a Who Can Scream The Loudest For Their Clique Representative contest.

Moi? Participate? NEVER.

The instructions on the ballots said to choose one per category. So me and my friend Sarah decided to be smart-asses and just mentally choose one without writing it down. After all, they didn't specify!

(See, I have this need to be defiant. A need. A possible disorder. I don't think I'm really that bad but I like to think I am. I surround myself with people who really are and that always makes things more interesting.)

But hey, sitting through the stipidity got me out of a Geometry quiz. Hell yes, I'll sit through a stupid assembly for that, any day.

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You know that Greek tragedy thing the I was cast in? We started working through some stuff today. We got our feet wet as we plodded through the mud that leads to a good opening. (That's theatre talk for ya, folks.) I'm serious: we got music, we got costumes, we got makeup, we got set sketches, we got lighting ideas....we got everything that is humanly possible that has to do with theatre. Does it even remotely sound like theatre? Okay, yeah, we got that too.

The director's genius lighting idea was to drape a giant multicolored parachute over the school and shine lights through it.

CLASS: "..........."

My school is the size of a college campus. No, really, just trust me on this one....it is. A four story main building with a basement that is used for drama plus a lot of small tech buildings and performing arts practice bulidings. I doubt a parachute would cover the entire main building.

Or else it would have to be one damn big parachute.

Our makeup is basically like....Kiss meets Rocky Horror. Sort of that fantasy, other-worldly, punk-rave, early-seventies smoke-a-lot-of-weed motif.

The lighting is basically just like, a bunch of different colored lights shining through the fog (artificically created by the smoke machine, of course) and strobe lights, etc.

The music kicks ass. I can't explain it, it just does, OKAY?!?!?

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We finally found about that we're going to NYC for sure this year. Not like last year, when it was the "No, We're Really Going This Time I Promise" New York Trip (in some way related to Cher's "No I Really Didn't Mean That Other Farewell Tour" Farewell Tour), but we didn't go because we were flat broke.

No, siree. We're now fully funded by your gracious tax dollars. And by the generosity of you, the American people, we are staying at the SHERATON on 52nd Street near Times Square.

HELL YES! That's what I'm talking about. We get cheated several times, and when we finally go, it's FREAK. AWESOME.

I think we're going to see Urinetown, Cabaret, and The Lion King. (Shut up. I didn't decide to see The Lion King. I wanted to see Thoroughly Modern Millie, but no one listens to me. Of course not.)

We're flying, naturally. But jeez, um....I don't know....*coughs and trails off*

I don't know...uh...

(Shit.)

I don't know if I want to fly.

There. I said it.

I mean, I know that probably nothing will happen, but I just don't know if I can handle a flight to Manhattan without having a heart attack as we approach LaGuardia.

But I don't think I could handle a long bus ride with my class. Nope. I'd rather hit a building.

Knock on wood.

Uhh...just in case, you know.

But the next time you pay your taxes like a good little all-consuming, non-producing American, think of me and the wonderful trip you're providing me with.

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!