Wednesday, May 07, 2003
at 5:18 PMRing Around The Rosey
I took the Advanced Placement Literature and Composition exam Monday. I most likely scored another "four". I forgot the night prior about the exam; thus, I slept not. I actually dozed off multiple times thinking about the answers to the multiple choice questions. My essays seemed none too bad, but they seemed none too especially good, either. Oh, well.
One of the sophomore cheerleaders got caught with Brittany Lovato's purse. However, the girl's mother claimed she recently bought that purse for her dear, thieving trollop, which means Brittany will never get back her $250 camera, the rolls of film on which she stored her prom pictures, her make up, her perfume, and the other miscellaneous items girls commonly carry. At the moment I feel rather bitterly toward humanity. Brittany "gets screwed over" (in the vulgate) in order for this tramp to remain on the cheerleading squad. Disgusting.
Tomorrow we might or might not get around to completing the Vellum layout. One of the English teachers (a "Mrs. Roney", of whom I had never heard) alerted us to a suspected case of plagiarism, which Donna confirmed. She typed a line of the poem into Google and came almost immediately upon "The Lost Heifer" by Austin Clarke. Austin Clarke, however, did not submit his poem (which somehow changed titles to "The Lost Animal") to Vellum. The spineless mouth-breather who did will receive a severe rebuking from Mrs. Robinson on our behalf. I hope he loses his exemptions, at the very least.
I posted edited versions of a few of the prom pictures April's parents took with their digital camera. I look like a flaming pile of black and white poo. April looks uncharacteristic. Even The Father commented afterward on how well she looked (which implies she really accomplished something magnificent, as The Father never takes note of such things).
I finished reading Groucho And Me. It inspired nothing, but Groucho Marx explicitly denied it that purpose. I do not feel betrayed.
I began reading Corelli's Mandolin. It amuses me thus far. Does "stream of consciousness" apply to dialogue as well as written thought? Anyhow, the novel's second chapter involves a hilarious one-sided dialogue of Mussolini as he addresses some count. I recognized several historical allusions from my recent European history readings, elated that I did not puzzle over them in a struggle to decipher their significance from surrounding context.
Away I go. GeoCities refuses to cooperate this evening.
