F is for Fantastic

My wonderful excuse to justify the two Fs I'm sure I'm going to receive.
Because Combined Humanities needed a spouse. It found History, and it was love at first sight. And now they are fabulously wed, in Las Vegas, no less.
At the last moment Tojo withdrew out of the race to give me a B (yes I won't even hope for an A), and sent Mister Chamberlain in his place. Chamberlain the fool.
Guess I'm not going to a foundational institution after all.
Or anywhere.
Might even fail my O's at this rate.
Oh wait, I will.
And I'll be the first person to do so in a couple of years then, oh woe.
I'm going to sleep this over. It'll be painful to spend this day in consciousness. I'll waken tomorrow and stab people senseless, that should do.

hate hate hate hate hate

prelims.
the way it's going,if i rate my performance upon ten,in relation to what i want for the o's...
i'd get a -10000.
I've been coughing since the beginning of the prelims, and doing nothing about it. Maybe I'll do a Juushiro and my hair will turn white and I'll cough blood someday and get two swords and talk about waves being my shield and lightning being my blade. In any case aside from continuously coughing during the prelims and occasional shortness of breath as a consequence, I'm good and well, in whatever way 'good and well' doesn't mean 'scoring straight As' because my grades these past four years are about as good as Shikamaru's. I've only scored one A1 in my report book all my life here in Cedar, and that was in English last year.
Let's have a little breakdown shall we.
ENGLISH - Very manageable (and still my saving grace). A little too classic for my liking, but it should do.

HIGHER CHINESE - Not as manageable, but not dying.

ADDITIONAL MATHEMATICS - PAPER TWO - Expecting a B. It felt better than any A. Math test I'd ever taken before.

SCIENCE CHEMISTRY/BIOLOGY - PAPER FOUR - Remind me never to put all my eggs in one basket again. Though it wasn't that bad.

COMBINED HUMANITIES - SOCIAL STUDIES - Not getting a B. May pass but a B would be utopian.

SCIENCE CHEMISTRY/BIOLOGY - PAPER THREE - Remarkably easy for a maths paper, but I wouldn't bank on it too much owing to Biology.

COMBINED HUMANITIES - GEOGRAPHY ELECTIVE - Caused me to give up hope of counting Combined Humanities in my L1R5.

ELEMENTARY MATHEMATICS - PAPER ONE - Good good. I knew almost everything, the only problem was there was no time.

ADDITIONAL MATHEMATICS - PAPER ONE - Sickening. The questions were miraculously harder than Paper Two.

HISTORY - SOUTHEAST ASIAN HISTORY - Laughable. Will pass, but not with a B. Must count on Modern World History for backup. Serious backup needed.

What remains...
ELEMENTARY MATHEMATICS - PAPER TWO (Which I don't expect to be too much to handle.)
HISTORY - MODERN WORLD HISTORY (HAIL JAPAN!!!)
ENGLISH - O-LEVEL ORAL (which I plan to pass, flanked by much キラキラ)
SCIENCE BIOLOGY/CHEMISTRY - PAPER ONE (MCQ. Easy pickings.)
SCIENCE BIOLOGY/CHEMISTRY - PAPER FIVE (Practical. HEATING! SCALPELS! OHNOESSSSSsss!!!!!!!!111)

(If you're wondering why I don't have a Paper Two for Science, it's for Physics students, and I don't take Physics.)

But yes.
I want to retch.

On a separate note about the Beijing Olympics, having gotten past the whole ZOMG KOHEI-KUN! madness, I wasn't at all surprised at Lin Miaoke's lipsynching. Stretching your facial muscles like that and trying to sing at the same time is potentially bad for your health. Just look at the Earl of Millennium from D. Gray-Man. He smiles so much that I don't even know what the inside of his mouth (which is the size of roughly 75% of his face) looks like. He smiles so much he talks through his teeth. And his voice isn't exactly the clearest thing on Earth. If you smile that much I don't think it's possible to enunciate your words, or even to project your voice far enough to reach.. wherever your microphone is.

PREEEEEEEEELIMSSSSSSSSSSSSS

are very painful things that make you wake up in positions you swore you weren't in when you went to sleep that give you cramps in your neck/shoulder joints and your leg and those disgusting red marks on your hand that you get from speedpotion/chicken essence overdose.

MONDAY I learned the Phantom Of The Opera. My fingers will loathe this. I don't know which is worse - My Will or Phantom Of The Opera? *sigh* I liked The Godfather and The Sound Of Music... At least I could watch female foil fencing. When the camera panned across the audience I saw a woman picking her husband's ear and extracting something from it, as he opened his mouth and silently screamed in pain. Best Olympic moment, I tell you. The next best moment would be the one where one of the Italian fencers (Trillini? Idk.) tried to lunge and went down on the floor in a near-split position in an attempt to thrust her foil at her

TUESDAY English 8DDDDD The best way to start a painful prelim exam season. DDDDDDDDD8
There were five questions to choose from for Section One in the first English paper. I chose the one-word topic (Mercy. Because someone was obviously eating chocolates when s/he came up with this one). Again. And I wrote about organised crime. Again. Except this time it was about the runners, and it ends on this very predictable note. It's not a cliche I guess but the moment (whoever the invigilator is) reads it,s/he'll know everything that follows. I didn't think right then, perhaps I should have written something more like Death-Note-For-Doctors.
Section Two was about writing a proposal to the principal to tell him/her where the Secondary Fours should go on an excursion. It was boring with a capital B, but at least I made myself write to another Noah (Mr. Tyki Mikk. The last time I wrote a proposal it was to a Mr. Rhode Camelot [because no one would believe in the normal world that a person called Rhode could be a girl].) and set the secondary school as Mana Itu Secondary School. ("Mana itu" is Malay for "where is this place".)
My speedpotion worked decently well all through to the end of Paper Two (GM food appeared as the subject matter for comprehension for the second time this year. It was painful.), after which I went for lunch.
ZOMG MALE ARTISTIC GYMNASTICS *fangirls over Japanese male gymnasts*

WEDNESDAY Stood at morning assembly position. Started talking to my classmate Cherie about ytd's male gymnastics. Suddenly people in front and behind me join in and we have a brief fangirl moment. Happiness.
Chinese was hell. No let me rephrase that. It was h.ELL . (Because you have to have a high contrast between the letters to show the extremity of the situation.) It's likely I'll pass. But not well. Not well at all.
Chinese was so horrible that when I went for lunch at KFC and tried to fill my cup with 7up from the soda fountain the first lot of it flowed off the rims of the cup onto my hand and the floor below. The next lot of it went in before spilling over. And after about four times of this idiocy I decided I'd embarrassed myself enough.
Yes I'd forgotten how to fill a cup. Now you know the extremity of the situation.
Maths tuition went well. Nothing more.

THURSDAY Additional Maths went decently well. The most I'll get is a B, but no one said I couldn't do my best. I finished all that I could about fifteen minutes before the end. Then I tried to scrounge for marks before I felt enough was enough. In any case I need four Bs and two Cs, so it shouldn't be too hard to get there.
I had another speedpotion above the one I took this morning. It doesn't work half as well as if you take one a day. Ah well.
My performance in Science(Biology) Paper Four is a shining testament to the old adage "Don't put all your eggs in one basket." Because I did. And I ended up answering many of my questions with my general knowledge instead of my Biology knowledge. To quote my ex-Biology teacher Mrs Chaiw, I 'ought to be shot and thrown into the deep blue sea'.
I think I'm sick. But the speedpotions don't seem to let me feel that. I was coughing and sneezing throughout today, but I don't feel horrible except for the occasional migraine, usually on the left brain.
It's Iman's birthday.
...
she still looks like a child. Sort of.

Going off. To study for Social Studies. And stuff.
>_____________< this needs to enddddddddddddd

The Mr. Sng Vampire Bet Fiasco. Thing.

Over yesterday and the day before I'd wondered how on Earth Mr. Sng could have found my essay 'vampirish' (see last post). So, in an attempt to gain a further understanding, I decided to ask him. With a proper answer.
Why did I emphasise "with a proper answer"? Simple. Mr. Sng's method of answering questions is standard.

EXAMPLE ONE.
Random Person: "Hey Mr. Sng, why is (for example) football played with the foot?" (I asked him this before.)
Mr. Sng: "Well, to answer that, you have to go back to the game's history. How it was discovered or invented, how the rules of the game were developed, and so on. It is likely that you will find your answer there."

EXAMPLE TWO.
Random Person: "Why do we have to (for example) dress like six-year-olds?!"
Mr. Sng: (laughs and does whatever he does next)

THUS with this glorious record of answering questions in this simple and hassle-free way, and my lack of a hard/softcopy, I began to seek Answers.

Then. Enter Prisia.
"I bet you two dollars that by the end of the school day, specifically, Biology remedial, you won't get a direct answer from him. Or an answer at all. Sabotage allowed."
And so the game was on. I'd get my answer, and two dollars. Sweet ^^.

So I spent the day making plans. At Mass Dance Prisia told me that she'd gotten to him and told him not to answer any stupid questions that I posed. I screamed. In the I-want-to-scream-really-loud-but-we're-in-the-middle-of-something-figures-you-get-the-point type way. And she smiled. And that was when the real action started.

I got two sheets of blank paper from the bookshop. And just before Chinese I ran down to Tereza and asked her if she could print a copy of my composition. She said she'd try, and I went off for Chinese.

I returned after Chinese. The library refused to let her use the printer. Oh joy, I was dead and gone. Two dollars... T^T

But there was no Biology remedial, so I celebrated for a while. The deadline was moved to 4.30.

And then I found out, since there was a teachers' meeting which ended at 4.30, there was no way I could win anyway. So there I had it. I'd lost.

But since my original intentions were still there, I placed this email to Mr. Sng.

To Mr Sng:

This is Faith. I'd like to ask for an explanation to one of your comments on the recently returned personal recounts, specifically, about my composition being 'very gothic and vampirish'. While I could understand immediately the first adjective, I failed to comprehend how the composition was, in any way, 'vampirish'. It is for this reason that I wish to seek a second opinion, that of your own, as my attempts to ask Iman for a rational explanation have ended in great futility, mainly because she went into a state of delirium while reading the passage.
The cryptic nature of the final word in your comment has left my person guessing and questioning the possibilities, and it will not be until I find the answer that I may be assured of the nature of that my work. (TYPO OHNOES)

Do reply posthaste.

Thank you.


With all due respect,
Faith Sim Jia Rui
4Z

PS. If you need the composition, the corrected version is on http://tsukiyomi-no-arashi.blogspot.com (from the 33rd/34th line of the body of the most recent post.)


Then I paid Prisia her two dollars. The Game was over.

"So you're not going to resist? Or ask him in person?"
"Yup."
"What *was* your plan as to Mr. Sng anyway?"
"Just, well, ask him. *childish smile*"

She returned me the two dollars. Apparently she was looking forward to some form of sabotage, emotional manipulation, anything for the answer. Because that would have made it fair. But no, I didn't.

"Wow, I don't know who is more manipulative with that one. Of course that never would have worked if you didn't have a sense of fair play about you that she could take advantage of." - Person On Gaia Who Read About This.

Part of me smiles and says that I'd won the game within the game. Another part just wanted the answer, no tricks or anything. All of me is happy I kept my two dollars. XD

THE NEXT DAAAY.

Mr. Sng comes up to me during English.
"What don't you understand?"
"Well, it didn't seem vampirish to me."
"So it's not about vampires? The whole 'made men' thing?"
"...no..."
"Then what's it about?"
"...the mafia. *contented smile*"
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Made_man)

And so it was solved.

... that was seriously funny.

This is officially one of the best academic days of my life.

In Secondary school, at least.




The day began sleepy, as a continuation of two days of sheer boredom and what felt like neuron necrosis.




Mr Sng came in during the third period and asked us to do our summaries. Of course no one was in the mood for it because after school we were to have an Additional Maths test, and everyone wanted to study for it. So he let us take our summaries home to complete, and he let us use his period for revision. With that, he walked out.


He came back near the end of English class with our personal recounts from about two weeks ago. And suddenly apocalyptic music played in my head, because I really really really (x30000) didn't want to get my assignment back. I was scared. Scared because I told, not showed. Scared because I ventured into unfamiliar ground. Scared because... it was a sort of test-drive.


But I guess I could justify that with "what did you expect us to come up with in one and a half hours about being late for an important date or event which led to serious consequences?!?!?!?! *swearing*"


And so it came back.


And I was expecting something horrible. Twenty over thirty. Nineteen over thirty. Oh, the possibilities!


And it returned.


Twenty-six.



TWENTY-SIX.



I went red. Very red. I was so... so... happy. Elated. Jubilant.


I laughed silently to myself under my table as he went through all the common mistakes for our class personal recount essays.


And he'd been indecisive about it, too. He'd written 22, then cancelled it, then 26, which was cancelled too, before he settled on 26.


Ah, mafia men, you make the narrative world such a beautiful place.


I'll type it out here ^^. With what Mr Sng's corrected.



-



I rushed into my black Lamborghini, as Alphonse slid into the driver's seat almost effortlessly, the way I'd demanded he do it since I was a child.

"I told you it was time to go half an hour ago!" Alphonse cried as he started the ignition. "I really don't know how you'll succeed the Wright lineage, the way you're acting," he said, softer this time, as if he were talking to himself.

It was my fault, of course, but I wouldn't admit it. Father told me once that there are two things that Wrights do not do - admit one's mistakes, and to apologise, for these two are signs of weakness, which our world, our terrain, has no tolerance for.

The jalopy sped past expressway after expressway, as I hastily adjusted my tie, fiddled with my cufflinks, and slicked back my hair. My first day, and already I was making mistakes. Ten minutes to the time I was supposed to become a made man, and I was half an hour away from my destination.

My mind flashed to all the horror stories I'd gleaned from the butlers as a child, of people who were late for their induction as made men. Some had Father's hitmen attack them, others had the end sections of their little fingers cut off, a lucky few had cigars stubbed out on them. But all of these people still became members of the Dark, so in a way, my mind was put at ease.

At last, we arrived at Uncle Victor's turf, where the ceremony was held. Along with Uncle Nero, who was mildly amused, I met with the cold stare of my father.

"Virgil," Nero, the head of the Dark said, in an unusually calm tone for the given circumstances, "it appears Sebastian here, your son, has no sense of responsibility. Was this, Sebastian's making, not supposed to be the best day of your life? And Sebastian, was this not supposed to be the best day of yours?

"I remember, when I took you in, my right-hand man's son, as my apprentice, I saw great things in you. You seemed to possess the ability to pursue greatness, to carry on the name of the Wrights as the best henchmen the Dark, the world, has ever seen. To be late for your induction, why, your father," and here he pulled out a derringer, "could just die of disappointment at his only successor's failure to arrive and be made on time."

He cocked the gun and placed it at my father's temple. My pupils dilated as cold sweat trickled down my own temples, as the hitmen in the back sniggered somewhat. I'd lost all self control by then, and all I could do was to yell "NO!".


What happened after that was a blur. I only remember that the great heaping mass that was Nero toppled to the ground, knocking him out cold as he fell on the back on his head. I remember, too, that there was great pandemonium as the hitmen and all the other men present went delirious. To assault the Don... that was sheer madness. It could have spelled death.


But most of all, I remembered my father.


I remember his expressionless face when the gun was put to his head, his shock and anger when Nero fell, and the intense disappointment in his eyes, that gave him pain even to acknowledge me as his son, all of which culminated in the last two words he has ever said to me.


"Get out."


No, this was a nightmare, I thought. Disowning in our world was done only if I had committed the unforgivable. It was the greatest dishonour, and to be disowned was to say I could never return to our world, our house, ever again.


"Get out," he said, mildly exerting his vocal cords now.


I remained rooted, paralysed.


"GET OUT!" he hollered, exerting his diaphragm and using every last bit of strength he had.


Alphonse dragged me off in the end. He drove me home and handed me my things. "Sebastian... I'm sorry."


"It's not your sentence, Alphonse, it's mine. I'm sorry," I murmured, no longer a member of the Wrights.


"As is customary for the disowned, they are allowed one trip, to be sent off by their personal butlers to any place they so desire, as a final service. Where do you wish to go?"

I thought for a while, tearing somewhat at the prospect of even leaving home, and the books, the memories, Alphonse.


"Take me far away. Far away from here. Anywhere you please."

And at last, when I alighted, in the dead of night, on a seemingly endless beach, I looked up into the vast blue sky, uncertain and crestfallen, as I was to start life again all by myself.





-

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologise to all the mafia/prospective mafia who read this blog (heck, no one reads this blog) because I don't think I did you guys justice.

"Very gothic and vampirish", read the verdict from Mr Sng. Hmm. Vampirish.

Iman went delirious reading this. She was laughing all the way and going on about how he was totally right and how it was so very vampirish indeed, at which I flailed my hands asking loudly what it was that was so vampirish about my composition. (My references were from Artemis Fowl, 300, Kamikaze Girls, and the Godfather theme song on repeat in my head. Oh, and the whole thing playing itself out in my head anime-style.) She didn't tell me, because when I showed my composition to her she was studying for the A Maths test, and couldn't be bothered to explain further, but she cited the seemingly endless beach in the dead of the night as an example.

Penelope read it, and after that there was a pause, before she turned and looked at me. "This is... absolutely masterful." she said. She said her heart didn't feel it though, but her head did. (That was my main fear. This composition didn't have my heart in full throttle.)

Prisia said that Sebastian was an idiot for someone raised in a mafia family, and that he should have controlled himself better because it was obviously a common joke.
Ah well.
Mr Sng was all, "If you want to know how to write a good personal recount, ask Faith, Sakinah, Mavis and Vanessa." (I think he said those four anyway.) But I don't think I can help anyone who asks me - I just wrote whatever the hell I wanted and prayed he'd like it.

Archery!

We were tested on our grouping. We had to shoot three arrows in any place we so chose (and hope to God that they were together).
So I shot. Fast.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
And they were together ^________^
I got a red mini arrow with red, orange and yellow fletches. The only red arrow in class. The other three got black arrows, but I heard that the colours were random. Oh well.

A Maths after school was... bearable. I'm going to get a lot of flak from my Maths tuition teacher for forgetting how to do one whole question (or two) but I see a 72% if all else goes well other than what I didn't know/answer at all.

Alright, going off. ^^

...I'm much better now.
Just thought I'd get that off first.

Saturday at fencing I fought all three guys in class (and lost to all of them) and I fought a girl (and won 8D which might have explained my "promotion" to fighting guys). After that me and Prisia went to study at Toa Payoh (it was amazing. I thought my parents would never agree.) and she looked at my scars (healed now pretty much) and asked, "Exactly what did you use again?"
I took out my pencil case and showed her exactly what I used. She scarred herself on the back of her left hand (yes she does that. I still can't get over it.) twice with my mechanical pencil and looked at it. It went from white friction marks to two linear bumps on her skin, but it never did bleed (and she's supposed to be stronger than me). She looked back at me.
"Woah, you did feel crappy. But promise me you'll never do that again."
And so I did. If anything, to make myself feel better.

Moving on. My Chinese teacher did get back to me about my dad, but I told her he wasn't pursuing it extensively. (He's like that. He gets as mad as the hell he wants for as long as he likes, and then he stops. And then he forgets completely about it and expects everyone to forgive him. Two years and roughly four months ago he beat me with a rattan stick for my grades [still bordering on abysmal], and when I asked about it six months later he said he never did such a thing.)

I've realised that I've become strangely zombielike on Tuesdays. I can't remember anything about Tuesdays except that I feel nothing and have constant headaches. I think it's ELDDS withdrawal symptoms, but as to why I felt no such thing between my retirement and last last Tuesday, I don't know at all.

Mass dance. None of the Secondary Fours were interested at all. Except for...
"...Prisia, why is there a huge space between the two of us and everyone else?"
"I don't know, more space for us then."
Conveniently, my Social Studies teacher walked past. "Aiyah, you two be the star dancers lah."
- awkward moment -
"Well... I guess this future MP needs more votes."
And so Prisia and I danced. And when the whole level was sabotaged into dancing, because the two of us were nearest the people teaching us I guess it can be said that we singlehandedly saved the whole level, while, at the same time, we were given the titles of The Most Crazy People In The Level. (Well it's not that anyone in their right mind would dance to a song about shaking your booty. But I'm not. And I need to know more than the Hare Hare Yukai and the Motteke Sailor Fuku and the Soulja Boy and Caramelldansen.)

Afterwards my class had an English timed assignment about prisoners and slavery and stuff like that. It's good that we finally have stuff like that for T.A.s, I think, because I don't want to be stuck with things like Patagonian desert journeys and astrology and things like that. I was so happy reading the comprehension passage. At least I had something to visualise, complete with background music.

Grooming. Feh. At least it was kind of fun. The guy walked in and I stared at him. All I could remember was that I'd seen his face before, and that somehow he was associated with the colour green.
"Yes I do have a twin brother. I don't like him though."
Even his name was familiar. Geoff. It was... something I'd heard before. But I couldn't put my finger on it.
Anyway. We went through the whole What Turns You Off About The Appearances Of Guys/Girls. And he got me to take all the responses on the guy side down. Ah well.
Then we went through dining. Easy. It's first outer inner last. Like algebra. And I've never used it before XD
Then we went through handshakes and he asked me for help again. So I got up, and there was an obvious height difference. He tried to stand on his toes, but it was epic fail. *evil laughter* So I shook his hand. Just because.
He was funny.
I asked him after class whether he went to Parkway often, since he said he went there once. He said yes, and asked me why. So I told him I fenced there. And we had a brief conversation. And that pretty much ended it.

..I'm addicted to Mars bars. They're like happy pills, only they're legal.

Yesterday was such a beautiful day...and then today came.
Yesterday was so happy.
I didn't win anything for EYD, but then again I'd joined on a whim so I didn't half care. It's sort of in my general philosophy that "it's others who win" anyway, and since I haven't won anything substantial since I turned twelve, I shan't continue being sad over my losses.
It was Tereza's birthday, and I know for sure what I want to do for her over the weekend, and so does she, because I told her just in case I forgot. (It's a clay bird. A la Deidara.)
I had an E Maths test I was so scared of failing, I prayed long and hard for it. And thank goodness Standard Deviation didn't come out, or I'd have been finished right there and then. I died on a question about trigonometrical bearings and basically anything that had anything to do with trigo, along with a smattering of other questions.
I've lost 26 marks out of a possible 103.
It means that if all goes swimmingly I should get a rather tidy 74%. An A.
My first A for Maths since April 2006.

And then today.
Irritating, painful, today.
My dad *had* to start, driving me and Truth in the car to school, he likes this captive audience thing that he has going on. I'd like to swear at him, to fire a long stream of expletives at him here in this little piece of Internet real estate I have that no one looks at, but I won't do that because of possible repercussions.
"Hey, Truth, do you know what 酒肉朋友 means?"
I understood immediately.
"You're talking about my friends kthx."
And then he tried to hide it.
"No I'm not, I'm just saying. Besides, I haven't met all your friends."
"All that you've met."
And THEN he came clean.
"Especially ------. (Why would I tell you.) She's the worst one of all."
"You don't know her."
I walked out of the car just as it turned into the side gate.
Before going into the courtyard for morning assembly, I sent a message to him to explain the circumstances.
He sent one back just after History, and he said "I know her type.". If I could have sent a slap through the phone, I would have. Actually even if I'd sent a hundred I don't think I'd have been assuaged.
I replied, to explain further.
He replied in the middle of Chinese, threatening to sue my friend if I failed my O-levels. Just after I finished reading that, my Chinese teacher came, and my phone... you know.
That really did it, and after she walked away, in between my near-futile attempts to stop myself from crying (I never did), I took my mechanical pencil, extended it far enough so the metal tip was out but not the graphite, and scarred myself many times on my right arm.
Considering I've only done that two or three times in my entire life, this one was pretty serious. It was the first time I'd bled doing it.
Two sickening people.
My Chinese teacher took me out of class after that and we had a talk so I could explain why I was using my phone in class. (Or however a person can talk in between being emotionally destroyed.) She gave her side, which was, for once in my life with my Chinese teacher, actually rational. Later I went back to class for English, and barely ten minutes in I was taken out again by my Chinese teacher, this time to see my form teacher.
We sat in the sick bay and I washed my wounds with antiseptic and explained the circumstances to her, in slightly more coherent language, and she understood, and we had many long silences because we both knew there was nothing to be said that might have helped.
The counsellor came, and so we talked some more, me and her, about how I had good reason to be angry, and how he had his reasons for attacking me in this way. And we talked a bit, about differing religions, about how he loved me and perhaps was a bit overbearing, and she asked if she should talk to him, but I said no, because I thought perhaps it would become worse if she did.
I went back to class at noon. In effect I'd cut half the day's classes being in counselling.
At least Social Studies was bearable. After about two or three people asked where I went the day carried on as per normal (it being the last period of the day before Assembly, which was a total waste of time.).
I haven't been so sad since 2004. And 2004 was a dark, dark year.
I did get my phone back. But I'm still not happy.
And I don't want to speak to him. Not till Sunday. He's being insufferable, and I'll bet the first person to tell me different my allowance for the next week, that he won't apologise for being such a ----head.