Haha, I'm An Idiot.

Uno Ruins Everything

Today just sort of happened out of nowhere and I'm cool with it.

We're working on a play in fine arts (not the one with Jeff, unfortunately) and we started filming. It's all about this guy and his dead twin or something like that. Early on, he misbehaves in a gym class and is asked to wait outside. He goes into the changeroom but gets locked in. Later, a theatre troupe comes in to spend the night. That's where we come in. Some of us go to the bathroom, but hear the kid screaming and get skeezed out. Gemstone_BP and I aren't in that scene, but we come in later. Because that's what they were filming for the first period, Mrs. M said we could just hang out and play Uno completely unattended with a pack of cards Gem brought from home. Lemme just say, games with her are EVIL. After rage-quitting the last game, we just hung around in the room until everyone came back.

Second period of fine arts, we went downstairs to plan a segment in the basement. There's a butt-ton of stuff in the basement, including Kilts from the pipe band, various taxidermied animals, and those plastic lei things that you see at the dollar store. The crowning achievement, however, was the finding of our mascot's corpse in a trash bag. We found his head, body, paws, and summer sunglasses. That wasn't even it. In another set of trash bags we found a previously unmentioned polar bear that nobody knew anything about. We couldn't find anyone who knew his deal, so we appointed him as our mascot's weird cousin. Also in the basement, I found a bag of boxes of vanilla cookies. None were open and all were still good, so everyone got to have one. It's a shame I don't like vanilla.

Then was a bit of French. From my previous tales, you probably know what kind of guy Mr. B is. Y'know, one you wouldn't naturally want near children but somehow got the job. To summarize this period, I'll say this: holy phoque. We were reading a text on the Arctic and had to do our best to understand it. The first thing that happened is as follows. There was a sentence that talked about the permafrost in the Arctic. Basically: "le sol d'Artique est gelée pèrmanancé," or "the Arctic soil is permanently frozen." We weren't understanding, so Mr. B gave us an example. "I need good sol to plant my crops," he said. We weren't quite catching on, so he repeated. Eventually he was repeating so fast that his tongue slipped and he ended up saying, "AHNEED GOO SOL TA PLANT MAH CRAPS."

Everyone laughed at him.

After recovering from that ("I know, but it isn't the worst thing you've ever heard!") we continued. The next paragraph was about Arctic animals. One sentence listed them, and at the end was the phoque: a seal. It sounds pretty much EXACTLY like f*ck. People laughed at Mr. B again. He was sort of annoyed. "Every year," he said, "people laugh at that. I know. It's a seal." He then leaned in at a kid who was still laughing and said RIGHT TO THEIR FACE, "Phoque phoque phoque phoque phoque." That did it. Nobody could handle him.

Later at lunch, Gem, zombiepeasant , a girl I'll here call Hay who is a meme-loving phoque, and I played Uno instead of trying to eat. During the game, the most unholy thing happened. So many draw twos and draw fours piled up that it amounted to DRAW EIGHTEEN. It was damn near impossible to win. Zombie did in the end. I came third. Cards were thrown, people were called phoques, it was terrible/delightful. At the end, I muttered an insult under my breath that I don't even really remember. Zombie then asked me what I said and told me what she heard. I didn't catch her the first time, so I asked her to repeat.
She answered in the slowest and clearest voice, "Did you say 'Go suck a leg, Linkie?'"
I burst out laughing. "No! Go suck a leg? Who's Linkie?!"
"That's what I was going to ask you!" It was absolutely beautiful. I even changed my name in honour of it here.

In the last period, we started a new unit on clothing in French. Y'know, stuff like shirts, boots, and pants. In French, the word for boot is botte. As you may have guessed from the previous encounters, it sounds just like butt. This time, Mr. B hardly acknowledged it. I think he was pretty done with our bullcrap. At the very end of the day, I approached Zombie.
"I've figured something out," I said. "Never say boot seal in French."
"Why?" Zombie asked. "Botte phoque?"

I'm going to leave you to your imaginations on that one.

Note: I just realized that this is part 69. How appropriate.