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Musings from Comtech

Goodness from the heart of the computer lab.
Dated: September 17, 2008

 

Leslie left her house this morning, and she was dancing quite crazily. This is because she was listening to her favouritest song ever, by Paula Abdul, where she’s all like "something something something on the FLOOR" and then she was dancing even more. And then she missed her bus. She was tired because the night before she was watching Chicken Run with her bestest friends in the world as we ate tostitoes and salsa. Maria, the especially awesome friend mentioned that she’d one day like to meet a Spanish guy who plays guitar, like on the salsa container. Then she could salsa dance with flowers all up in her hair. Leslie thought that this was a very good idea, and mentioned that she could say to him, "THATS SPICY."

Maria laughed.

Leslie continued on to tell her that she could do saucy dances, and play her sexy maracas.

"You know, those little clacky things that go: ‘clack, clack, clackity-clack!"

Maria paused and then said, "Those aren’t maracas, they’re castanets."

And Leslie said, "You know what? Lunch is next and it will be spicy. By the way, the play try outs? They’re gonna be next week. Maria, did you hear that? Next week. No stressen. I know that because I talked to Jessica Verbora and she was like ‘They’re next week’. So no stress, no stress. So no-no drama, you don’t pull on my hand boy, you ain’t my man boy...Wait, is that honestly how I talk? I sound so stupid, read it out loud, Maria! Oh God."

"Everyone sounds stupid when you type out how they speak."

"Really?" Leslie asked.

"SPICY!" I yelled and then the people next to me were like, "WTFBBQ!"

Actually that was a lie. The guys next to me are busy talking about pot and how much they love pot and how they have a gangsta fly rockawear belt, shit. Cokehead, cokehead, watch stu’s face. That’s a pipe.

Meanwhile, Leslie’s all like typing away on ratemyteacher.com, and is like, "Maria, are you saving this conversation? You should totally save it! It would make my life."

Which is true, because this is a very awesome document.

I am excited for lunch. I have pizza. That is all there is to say about that.

Leslie accidentally clicked the St. Anne’s high school in Cornwall, and I got mad. Cornwall is a funny city name. It’s a funny idea to image a bunch of stuffy old men going, "Ok, so we’re going to name this city Cornwall, because Corn is COOL!"

I am seriously going to kick one of my computer neighbors, because they are stupid and have stupid, stupid-people faces that look stupid on their stupid heads that sit on their ugly pencil necks that are attached to their fugly back-acne (backne) backs.

Leslie adds, "Don’t forget about their gangsta piercings and their greasy hair."

She is right, we must never forget.

Now it is Leslie typing because Maria is watching the twilight zone because she’s special. She has to edit this video.

Leslie just erased something about her blowing her nose and how jealous I am of her quiet nose blowing. Honestly, Leslie, it’s a compliment. Don’t feel so bad about it. Ok, so here we go. We have what I wrote:

"Leslie?"

"Yuh?" she said as she fished around in her pink pencil-case for some Kleenex and then blew her nose. I was jealous of Leslie because she could blow her nose quietly, unlike me. When I blew my nose it sounded like the brass section of the Boston philharmonics just came into the room. Wait, does Boston have philharmonics, or do they have the pops? What in the hell is it with this crazy ass jazzy music.

"You are my friend," I told her. At that moment the creep walked back into the room. He is a creep because he is about sixty and has grease-o white mullet hair and a creepy mustache. He’s the type of guy who is just creepy. HE should be the hitch-hiker. That’s what he should be.

"Ahh, he’s back!" Leslie whispered. It was true. It was ahh, as well.

Now it is 12:12 and lunch is looming ever closer. Poo. I mean, not poo. Lunch is good. Food is eating and whatnot. Wait, I think I had a meeting for peer-mediation. Poo.

In total:

Peer-Mediation = pooey pooey cocopuffs

Lunch = Awesome sauce on a success burger served at my house! Woot.


 

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