Bull-shit, I Don't Do Love

Chapter 10 - In which nothing really happens.

I hated waking up late. It makes me stressed and jittery and meant that I was likely to forget something.

Something important. Like my math homework.

Did you know that teachers don't like when you don't bring in your homework? Weird, I know. How can they be so insensitive?

So basically I started my day out pissed as fuck. Not piss drunk, I might add, because drinking is fucking stupid.

When I'm pissed, I get ugly. And I apologize in advance for the shit that is bound to come out of my mouth.

I'd barely made it to the bus stop so Britt could get on her bus, which led to yours truly arriving late as fuck to school. Okay, I was five minutes late, but still.

Walking into 1st was a bitch. You know how everyone turns their head whenever the door opens and you're forced to walk the walk of shame for being late and you know everyone's staring and they know you know they're watching, and if you look up as you walk in you make awkward eye contact but if you walk in with your head down you look like a fucking 6 year old about to tell Mommy you cut her new curtains up and used them to make a blanket for your Barbie doll, and it's just a big awkward fucking mess? Yeah, I fucking hate that shit.

Guess what I had to do?

After my fabulously awkward entrance, I sat down and proceeded to get out my assignment.

You know what, I'm not even going talk about.

Art went well. Ms. Talia, eventually realized that my 'peachy' attitude wasn't going to lead to any kind of art inspiration, left me alone. So I listened to music and worked on my self-portrait some.

My day got better after that. Angela told me about a party a friend of hers was having and was forcing me to stick with my promise. Damn my mouth and its tendency to move. Or not move in this case. Whatever it was, I was going to party. I couldn't decide if I was excited or nervous. Or if I could care less. Or if I should care at all.

I may or may not be indecisive at times.

Lunch was entertaining; Angela and Sasha, the sassy dark-haired girl that sat across from me at our lunch table, got into a heated debate over which student teacher was the hottest. Highly classy conversation at my table. We're practically the presidential cabinet. 'Did you see what the Prime Minister was wearing?' 'Obviously the president looks better in blue than red.' 'The ambassador of France is so much better looking than that drab of an ambassador from Germany.' Not that the ambassador from Germany isn't a very handsome man, or women, or whatever. I'm not trying to start a war, I swear. I don't even know who our Secretary of State is. Though I do know that he deals with foreign affairs. Maybe I should ask him which ambassador is most handsome.

Back to the oh-so-important debate, Sasha and Angela had decided that the hottest ST (that's student teacher abbreviated, in case you didn't realize,) was. A Mr. Darcy. Just kidding. Mr. Dinglehopper. Sorry. Mr. DickDouche. Okay. I'll stop. Mr. Dalre. He's Spanish or something. ST Mr. Dalre. It took me only a moment to conjure up the clever abbreviation, STD. It took me another moment to begin laughing hysterically. I thought it was fucking hilarious. Though when I tried to explain my insane fit of laughter to my table, I only ended doing that awkward, gasping thing where you try to get words out but in the end just end up looking, and sounding, like a fish being electrocuted.

I walked into Mr. Bolders' class still smiling, because let's admit it, I'm a fucking comedian. STD. That's fucking gold.

Ellie had been shaking her head at me since we'd left the lunch table so I simply ignored her as we sat down.