As I said yesterday, I don't go into the whole Captain Insano-ness when I realize the end of the school year is near. I quietly go find a corner and study for finals or something, while everyone else is hopping around like dancing jaguars with their asses on fire.

That having been said, there is something in the New Orleans, Louisiana, water that made me go absolutely fucking MAD. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't think straight. I began flinging poo at my English teacher.

By the time it got around to my very last final, English, I was so very ready to just blow it off, hop into my motor vehicle, and speed off into the sunset.

But that is not what happened.

I took my English test, however poorly I may have performed, let it be. But I burst out of that classroom whooping and hollering like a madman, screaming "FREE AT LAST! FREE AT LAST! THANK GOD ALMIGHTY I'M FREE AT LAST!"

(Which the sociology teacher found quite offending, since his whole philosophy of life revolves around the continued oppression of the black man.)

And then!......

And then I got on the bus and rode home where I proceeded to play solitaire for two hours, eat some Chinese takeout and fall asleep at 10:00. Yeah. LOSER.

I'll be leaving for Performing Arts School Of Choice on June 3rd, but until then I'm totally and completely BORED. It's a total paradox to me: I get all hyped up about the end of school, and then I go home and say "I have nothing to do" and wish I was, say...back at school, congregating in the courtyard with my Posse.

Aww.....I'm gonna miss my Posse. We had some good times mugging people on the streets, giving freshmen wedgies, starting rifle duels, and burning down a wing of our 200-year-old school, admist a list of other equally heinous things that exist only in my mind.

Argh. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so juvenile.

On the upside, however, I NEVER have to see my pervert frat-boy geometry teacher EVER AGAIN! Unless by smoe act of god and/or really bad karma, I end up with him as my Algebra II teacher next year. Can you say....suicide?!

I have to go back to rehearsal for "The Wizard of Oz" tonight, after the musical director (who I can't figure out his sexual orientation: gay or straight?) gave us a few days off. I am understandably upset. Note this snippet of a conversation from the other night after we sang.

NELSON: No, no, no!! It's not tra-la-LA-la-la, it's TRA-la-la-la-la!

ENTIRE CAST: ............?

I'm not even sure if I've mentioned this show or not, considering I've been too busy with finals lately to have been writing regularly. They're doing it at a local theatre, and my mom was cast as Glinda (the good witch). It runs the entire month of July, but rehearsals are mostly all in June, which is exactly the time when I will be gone at Performing Arts Scholo Of Choice! So three guesses who was pissed because she couldn't audition, even though she can sing the shit out of the entire musical?!

Mrawrawr.....

So my mother ends up cast (thankfully, because as she puts it, it's "something to do while I'm gone") but I get to dance a few numbers and sing in the ensemble, or perhaps work backstage. I'm learning all teh song just in case, but the show opens the day after I get back from P.A.S.C., so I don't know if I'll exactly be up to dancing my ass off in front of crowds and crowds of people when I'm exhausted and jet-lagged.

In other words....I'll probably be working backstage. But because I'm a primadonna, I'm learning all the music and choreography if someone winds up sick, or if I just feel like stepping in one night. Thank god the director loves me.

DAMMIT. I've been warming up my voice all morning and I've somehow managed to go hoarse. SHIT.

God I love summer.

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