Yom Stewart

Hey, 4 spoons, I can't complain. I always knew I was slightly dyslexic. There was that one time I went jumbie bunching, and that other time when I was telling my friend about Yom Stewart talking about Jon Kippur. But guys? As flaky as I am, whether it shows or not, I try to keep my entries spelled correctly and all. So if you happen to notice an error, think nothing of it to leave me a little note or guestbook entry. Really. I know there are some spelling Nazis out there, so feel free to smack me down next time.

I was a large rodent today. I scurried. Scurried! Actually, I'll be a large rodent twice or thrice a week, every week until December. I would go on a cheese diet to condition myself for the role, but rats don't really eat cheese, they eat trash. Also, I'm a bit more concerned about not looking like a tub of flub in the god-awful grey unitard than I am about being completely rat-like. So perhaps I'll just dirty myself up and panic when people enter the room I'm in or turn on the light. Then I won't even have to dance, they'll Section 8 discharge my ass right out of there.

Miguelito, AKA Finny, AKA Junior In My Spanish Class I Haven't Mentioned In Here Yet asked his cheerleader interest to homecoming today, while I was oh so discreetly sitting in front of them and craning my head back to listen. She said no. She has to cheer. Praise be to Jebus. Not that it means anything. I thought there was flirtage, I really did. He talks to me a bit every day. We joke around, he loans me a pencil, I loan him some worksheet answers. That's big, folks. And he's a junior. And he's CUTE. But, alas. He only likes me for my Spanish smarts, which, I must say, are quite limited. What do I do, should it happen that the smarts run out and I can't help him out with stem-changing verbs anymore? Maybe a little experiment is in order. Tune in next week.

2003-10-08 @ 12:12 a.m.

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