Pth. Valentine's Day my...

Tomorrow it's Valentine's Day! I'm so glad it finally came...

What? No, it's not because my school is going to be plastered in pink and red posters hanging from the first, second and third floors; it's not because there's going to be a bunch off sissy girl strutting around carrying bunches of flowers; it's not because couples will be snogging left and right; it's not because everything will be all fluffy.

It's because I'm only going to have one class. And that's just because the Physics teacher is insensitive- I mean, nobody even bothered asking her if she could give us the day off for fear of getting their head chewed off. The only thing that sucks about that is that Physics starts at seven, and it's two hours.

Oh, and I still have to go buy a bag of chocolates or something for people who I sort of know. Its awkward when they walk up and are all,

"Here, I made you a card!"

And you're like,

"Oh, thanks! I, um, didn't get you anything. Uh... bye, then!"

I always feel guilty after that.

When the urge strikes, there's no stopping it

I was doing my homework (or watching anime and thinking about starting my homework- same difference), when that urge struck. That urge for... chocolate pudding!
Being the old-fashioned lass that I am, I went downstairs to the kitchen to make it from scratch instead of pulling one of 'em packaged puddings out of the fridge (because we're out of them. Packaged puddings, I mean, not fridges).
So I finished making my pudding, which ended up being mocha instead of chocolate because I just can't stand seeing the poor little (huge) instant coffee jar sitting all by itself next to the sugar, so I usually end up adding coffee, too.
Actually, now that I think about it, I *always* add coffee when I make something with chocolate.
Anyway. So, I finished making the pudding and promptly transferred it into a bowl, and then smothered it with whipped cream, plucked a spoon from the spoon drawer and went back upstairs.
I rarely manage to make pudding that doesn't have any lumps in it (didn't I tell you? All I can make is cookies. They're good, cookies, though) so I went all proud-like to show my mother. She took one look at it, and said -not bothering to mask the repulsion she must have felt-

"What's that?"

"Pudding!", I reply, "except the whipped cream kind of melted, so it doesn't look that good. Try it!"

That turned out to be a big mistake, because I ended up having to give my mom half of my pudding so as not to offend her.

It's like that time I woke up a few months ago with the pudding urge, so I made some and was just serving it in a wee little bowl when my eldest sister pattered downstairs in her pink socks with her hair sticking up all over the place, and declared that she smelled pudding and wanted some, too. I gently tried to explain that I had only made enough for myself, and that I was just about to start eating it, and that she could make her own if she wanted some.
This made her pout and look about 15 years younger than she actually was (20), so of course I had to make her another batch of pudding, and whip some more cream, except add sugar and stuff to it because she's too delicate to have just plain whipped cream on her pudding.

Next time I make pudding, it'll be when everybody's out, and leaves without even telling me. I just wake up and what do you know, it's just me. By myself. All alone.
This happens more often than it should.

In Math class yesterday

Girl Behind Me: Andreaaaa...?

Me: Yeah?

Girl: Can you help me with my English homework?

Me: Sure :)

Girl: See, I have to write a conversation, like this one. *pulls out textbook to show me*

Me: Yeah, I know. I've done five other ones today.

I then begin to rapidly scribble away on a piece of paper ("What do you do on Saturdays?" "On Saturdays I usually play soccer in the park with my friends. What about you?")

Guy Who Sits Next To Me: *watches* Do you go to an English course or something?

Me: *still scribbling* Nope.

Guy: Did you go to a private school? [in private schools they actually teach you proper English, like how to say 'apple' instead of 'éi-pol']

Me: No... I'm Canadian.

Guy: Really? *regards me with shiny, interested eyes*

And he then proceeded to ask me a few of the usual questions (although since he's a decent person, he only asked the less nosy and annoying ones):

1. So, you were born in Canada?
2. Why did you move here? [sometimes intoned "Why did you move here??"]
3. Well, you speak Spanish really well!
4. Do you go there often?
5. So are both of your parents Canadian?
6. Do you have relatives there?
7. Is it nice there?
8. Where do you like it more: in Mexico or in Canada?
9. Did you go to school there?
10. And you speak English, like, well?
11. How do you say ... in English? Oh, your pronunciation is cool!
12. Was it hard to learn English?
13. How old were you when you learned English/Spanish?
14. Which would you say is harder: English or Spanish?
15. Who taught you English/Spanish?


I've had that same conversation well over a hundred times. Perhaps two hundred. I wouldn't know, since they're usually not very memorable.

Except for that one time when some kid was bragging about how he was so good at English, and I told him, "Hey, that's cool. I speak it, too."

The he proceeded to inform me that I couldn't possibly be as good as him, since he went to some fancy-pants courses since a young age and all. I reply, "Well, I'm Canadian"

...to which he said, "Really? You don't look Canadian."

Yes. Thank you very much.

My knee doesn't hurt anymore, but still...

Today at school I was bored during "Geography" (i.e, the free hour and a half we get after the bald-ish old man who is supposed to be a teacher stands around in his goggles and spits on the people in the front row for ten minutes, before dismissing us so he can go eat breakfast) so I zipped up my jacket to look like a headless person and walked around like that, with my friends guiding me.
Of course, since they are my friends and love me very much, they smashed me into a pole twice and tripped me on a step. They grabbed me before I fell, though, because -as I said- they appreciate me very much and wouldn't let anything happen to me, aside from the bruise I got on my knee the second time I walked into the pole (I still can't believe I fell for it again).
Oh, and some guy ran by and poked me, and yelled, "BOO!" which of course made my friends crack up. They later informed me that it was a teacher with what I suppose is a very strange sense of humor.
Seriously. Old people aren't how they used to be.

I went shopping today

...and I bought the most adorable top which I ever could have asked for. It's got a really simple shape, nothing special there, except it's covered in little pictures of...

...SUSHI!!!!!

(Ugly photo courtesy of my webcam. It's hard not to wiggle the shirt while holding it up, so it's blurry. Sorry)

Tasteful, eh?

I swear I am never going to get ehough of this

The first five times I watched that I could NOT STOP SQUEALING. Like a pig. Or Like Timmy the sheep, who is in a tizzy. That's why the video is called "Timmy in a tizzy".




I swear this is what I feel like when I can't find Ricky (have I ever written about him? I think not. He's my stuffed toy raccoon who has been with me about half my life and is now in a rather deteriorated condition, which doesn't mean he's any less cute).

This is how it should have gone...

Me: Hi. :(

Mom: Oh, hi! You don't look so good. How was your day?

Me: Well, you know that Physics exam I was studying for all day... I missed the bus and got to the classroom at 7:01 and, well, the teacher had already closed the door. I would be a fool to knock, especially because she seems to like me (that sounds weird, but she puts more pressure on smart people, so it really isn't that strange).

Mom: Uh-oh. So, you didn't write the exam, then. How much was it worth?

Me: 50% of this trimester's grade. And I was doing really well, too, until just now. If I'd written the exam, I probably would've gotten an 8 average.

Mom: Oh, that's too bad... You failed last trimester too, right? If you do really well next trimester will it average out and give you a passing grade?

Me: No. Even if I get a 10 next time, I'll be just short of a 6. I can still salvage myself with the final exam, that's a big chunk of our grade.

Mom: Well, you should start studying for that now, that way you'll remember things better. Was anybody else late?

Me: Yeah, we were seven people... except all the other people were failing anyway, and only one other girl studied. When she got there I was already sitting outside the classroom, and she almost started crying when she got there and the door was closed. Then some of her friends got there, and they were talking about how they were failing a bunch of stuff, and it was just as well that they didn't make it to the exam because they'd get a zero either way. This somehow seemed to cheer them up (kind of stupid, really, but whatever) and then they went to buy waffles. The other people who were late were a guy that spent the whole time fiddling with his guitar, another who was doing homework for the next class and some other guy who chatted the whole time with some of his friends.

Mom: So, why were you late? You left early!

Me: It's because you walked me to the bus stop... I wasn't taking that into account, since I usually run by myself.

Mom: Either way, you should have allowed extra time for things like that. So, what did you do? Homework?

Me: No. I sat there moping for an hour and a half before Nancy showed up and asked me how the exam went. She thought I'd already finished it because I was sitting outside the classroom...

Mom: Oh, that's just too bad.

Me: :(



...and this is how it went:

Me: Hi. :(

Mom: Oh, hi. You're home. (continues fiddling with computer)

Me: ... (goes away)