Four Melons

No more full days of school.

No more waking up at 6:00 AM and leaving at 6:55 AM to try and be number 4 in the parallel parking line.

No more sprinting to lunch to be at the front of the line, getting the good garlic bread, and a seat at the lunch table. (I'm anticipating a Lunch Lady Retalliation reminiscent of what Samm got to the Pasta Article for that comment. LJ is just an easy way to spy on people, after all.)

I was watching Ten Little Indians last night, and it was odd to see us, 9 months younger and without a clue as to how the year would go. I didn't know that I'd be a part of it at all. But none of us knew how spectacular Boston Globe would end up being, or how awesome the musical was. I started the year as one thing, and will leave an affected and slightly different one. But I do like to think that I have no regrets, at least none that I can do anything about anymore. There are few things I'd change about this year. I have learned and experienced more over the past 9 months than I ever thought I would. I couldn't ask for more.

What we have here is a majestic river otter.

Okay so, all of a sudden, it hurts to speak and I'm overcome with the need to go to bed, and it's only 5:00.

Who gets sick in May? Who? Who?

Me.

Awesome. I think I'll celebrate with some ice cream.

Finals are a joke.

Ms. Bolarinho's back. For now.

Hard to believe that this week's the end.

No more delicious $1.50 pasta days, fat American burger/fries/cookie days, or better yet, shepard's pie days.

I wish Mr. Lew and Ms. Mastroianni would pull a Mr. Feeny and come teach me in college. That would be great.

I think I'll go see about that ice cream and watch me some Ten Little Indians. Just because.

This is why I love Natale

XxDaninaXx [9:31 PM]: how was the Rennaisance?
NLPLC154 [9:33 PM]: very nice...the slaughtering of the pig and the bards poems went well....Guienevere was there...she looked gorgeous.

I wonder when, over the course of tonight's Rennaisance assembly, that answer popped into Natale's sweet little mind.

Risky business.

I'm going to have to learn how to swim in the ocean in spite of the sharks.

He's Ray C...he's all set to GO.

Following the eighth grade performance of Peter Pan, Natale, Lovesquish, Megan, Bryan, and I took it upon ourselves to get dismissed after we were done with today's preview experience and go out to purchase some director's gifts.

Mission: Accomplished.

I would just like to say that, were it up to me, we would have bought some pretty interesting items. Of course, by interesting I mean WONDERFUL. By wonderful I mean a Bratz Catz (tm), which is the feline version of the ever classy Bratz (tm) dolls, complete with cologen lips and its very own purse; A pair of Hook Upz (tm), named Nick and Sugar, which are small, bendable dolls that were dressed in a way that resembled a pimp and his prostitute, aptly named not for what automatically comes to mind, but for the fact that they can "Hook up" to your child's backpack. Obviously the dominatrix, leather clad plush doll was named Sugar and not Sarah or Stacey; and finally, most hilariously, a clear plastic backpack chock full of one thing that no person should ever have to go without: Plastic Cats. This lovely little kit had a name, my friends. Cats in a plastic backpack= Hairball Roundup (tm), a riveting playset where your youngster can position the plastic cats and make them scurry around as needed. 

Obviously these are the quality type toys that any parent would want their children to spend time playing with. Apparantly they are not the type of toys that one would buy the director of their musical.

Days like this just make my life.

Loss.

My nail is finally beginning to fall off after almost 3 long, bruised, crusty blooded months. I'm going to save it, glue it to a tack and call it a thumb [nail] tack. Even though it's my middle finger. People will get the idea.

Let's get things straight.

So on the school lunch calender, the meal planned for today, May 4th, 2004, was Roast Turkey with Gravy, which just doesn't appeal to me. So imagine my surprise when I sit down to eat my brought-from-home lunch and see some scantily clad PRs walk by with steaming styrofoam trays of SHEPARD'S PIE. Now, the thing is, that Sheps Pie is something I relish and look foward to. To serve it unannounced when those who are turned off by turkey cubes in gravy and bring their own tuna sandwich is not only cruel, but downright deceiving. Shepard's pie day was SUPPOSED to be the third Wednesday of the month, completing a consecutive week of Wonderful Wednesdays with Taco Day tomorrow, Popcorn Chicken the week after, and THEN Shepard's Pie. 

So having this slight disappointment ruin my day a little, imagine my glee when I come home to find that my mom has made...SHEPARD'S PIE.

I absolutely adore life's little victories.