My Sister's Mister (On indefinite hold)

4th September, Tuesday

4th September, Tuesday   English, 1:15 pm 

So, we’re supposed to be writing an essay on ‘The modern-day role model’, due next Tuesday.

Basically the teacher wanted to flirt with the new coach, so she piled us with a lot of in-class prep work, and went all “Desmond! Desmond!” and sprinted out of the classroom, probably in the hope of being noticed, since what coach likes is fast runners.

David told me so.

But that’s only because he is one, himself. He runs track.

The funny thing about them though, is that our English teacher is named Molly James.

Desmond and Molly.

Like the Beatles song!

When I mentioned this to Nina, she rolled her eyes at me.

Really.

My best friend has no sense of humor. David was sensible, and laughed though.

So did a couple of other classmates, whom I occasionally speak with.

But they laughed because David did, so whatever.

Today, Alzheimer-Chris/Chris-of-the-future, you are STILL figuring out your wedding song.

STILL.

In the morning, before college, you were (Thank God) over the Teenage Dream thing, since Mum was absolutely against it.

(I’d like to be completely honest with you, and confess that I showed her the video, and interpreted the song in the dirtiest way possible for her. But all because I love you, sis.)

You read through my list, and finalized TWO songs, and Gabe put forward two songs, one of which was surprisingly from the list.

1) Baby, I’m yours- Alex turner

2) Real Love- Regina Spektor

3) At Last- Etta James

4) You Make My Dreams Come True- Hall and Oates

 So, I’m a little relieved you didn’t choose the Temper Trap song.

I love it way too much.

There is just something ‘Me’ about it.

I don’t real-

Shit.

Ms. James is back, and looks pissed. I don’t thing Desmond said he liked her face.

(I should not be a stand up. People would boo me off the stage for my pathetic taste in jokes, and the fact that I laugh at my own jokes. I mean, who does that? Other than me, of course.)

More Tuesday, Sociology

So, the Rumor mill says Desmond has a fiancée, name Michelle.

Resisting. Urge. To. Make. Beatles. Jibe.

And who knows this?

David.

I swear, that boy knows everyone, and everything.

And, guess what?

Michael called.

HE CALLED!

It was in the middle of History, so I had to cancel it, and felt like an awful person for doing so.

In the lunch break, which was immediately after it, I told Nina and Dave to get me a Chicken Roti-Roll and that I’d pay them later, and stayed back in class to make the phone call.