That was it. It's over. No more classes, no more high school, no more Fontbonne Hall Academy. So strange. Sad would be too broad, bittersweet too cliché, ecstatic too understated to describe what I’m feeling. It’s like someone kicked me in the gut and then gave me a lollipop. That’s exactly what it feels like. My horoscope specifically said that “May 16th would be legendary” and while that may be pushing it, it was pretty awesome. But, in true Chree fashion, we must go back in time. Last Thursday I had to take the AP Lit test, during which the voices in my head were debating the differences between circumcised and uncircumcised blowjobs. Yeah I’m going to do really well on that one. Friday was the devirginization of The Raven on the highway [Imagine the highway scene from "Clueless"]. Me and Steph ventured into Bay Ridge to the glorious sounds of tight-pants'ed falsetto'ed men, Freddie Mercury and Mika ["WHY MIKA WHY?!?!?!?- Us sobbing to "Happy Ending"]. Met up with Mike & Co. but didn't really get much accomplished due to the paddy wagons that were giving out summonses like pedophiles give out candy. Saturday night, we were supposed to go to the Trash Bash but I and Steph are losers so we had a lesbian love date of dinner [Applebee's] and a movie [Spiderman 3. We fell asleep and had to leave] instead. Sunday, I really have no recollection of whatsoever. I think I'm getting premature Alzheimer's to couple my precocious menopause [hot flashes much?].
Monday was the last day of Major Art *insert sobbing and clawing here*. B did his infamous goodbye speech during which I shockingly somewhat held myself together, except for the parts where I was biting back tears and scarring my hands from my nails digging into my clenched fists to control the sobs. We literally put our blood, sweat and tears into everything. I'm going to miss our prayers, the distinct art room smell of peanuts and fixer, the bone necklaces, the hidden messages, the chaos, the breakdowns, the hysterics, the horrific, the joyous, the grotesque, every moment that we all put in that room. I'm going to miss the feeling of having a place of my own, a hole to hide in with freaks just like me- the freaks covered in acrylic paint with charcoal smudges on their faces and prismacolor-caused calluses on their hands; the freaks that care more about art than sleeping or eating, who can explain all of the Dadaist movement quicker than they can multiply thirteen by thirteen; the freaks who would give up their own senior prom to be photographed by Mary Ellen Mark, who actually know who Mary Ellen Mark is; the freaks who paint bones and windows and imagination; the freaks who’ve taught me more than I’ll ever learn in any lecture hall or classroom. That's what I'm going to miss the most: my freaks. I'm going to miss Vicky's compulsive drumming, Alyssa's dramatic tendencies ["The phone is ringing!!"], Sarah's meltdowns ["I'm going to huff paint in the darkroom"], Erica's aloofness, Liz's carelessness ["You're an asshole"], Rosie's perfectionism, Bridget's perversion, Christine's reliability, Brittany’s sweetness, everything. Here’s to the freaks, my friends. We make Awrt.
Wednesday was the last day of high school. Shirts were attacked, carbs were inhaled and nuns were pisses off. To celebrate, the seniors had a makeshift barbecue beach bash in the courtyard at 12:24 full of water floaties, bubbles and music but Sister D. broke that up quicker than Bennifer so we were back in our classes by 12:29. Although, in a cruel act of karma, The Big D. did get flashed by Kearney drive-bys and probably burned out her retinas. My last class of high school was, rightfully, Psychology because nothing else would make more sense. English was really hard to say goodbye to. What am I doing to do without my Winnie and my Apes, the Duttywhiners and the words of the day, “Hot Stuff!” and “Hit Your Lights!”. I’m really going to miss it. I don't think it's really hit yet. We were all in denial, laughing away our tears because I don't think we're ready to let go of everything yet. There will be no more The Boner. I will never sit in the same classroom as any of these people ever again. No more uniforms or twelve-pound clogs, no more ballroom dancing in gym, no more Twelve Days of Christmas, no more “Servant Song”, no more cookies, no more nuns, no more Mrs. Kier, no more FA 6, no more taco fest. There will actually be burritos in the room. I haven’t sobbed yet, but I can feel it brewing. I teared a little during the season finale of “The Real World” but I know I’m going to have a full-blown mourn-a-thon soon- probably Senior Day because that’s the most suicidal day of the year.
Enough, I feel like barfing from all the nostalgia. Back to reality. Wednesday night, our celebrations were hindered by the mighty wrath of God in the form of a rain storm. Yesterday, went to get my nails done with Jess and Gen, during which I was tortured by the slowest-moving, Asian in the history of mankind [side note: I really loathe getting my nails done. Not for the obvious reasons, like the expensiveness, time consuming-ness, and lack of durability due to guitar and piano wear, but for more personal ones. Like the fact that they talk about you in their chosen Asian language, or bruise your knuckles when filing, or rip out your cuticles so hard you bleed, or the fact that they use the foot scrubber even though you ask them not to and every woman in Brooklyn knows how you hate it seeing as how you laugh like a hyena when it’s being performed. Pooper scoopers]. Afterwards, slept through my piano lesson with Ed, then went to Sahara with Steph, Brenna, Allie, Megan, Caroline and Stephanie to celebrate Steph’s 18th over tabouli and camels. After, went back to Steph’s casa for interesting conversations about fat, boys and astrology.
Today, the most productive thing I’ve done so far is eat peanut butter with a spoon and throw said spoon at my television after Tivo failed to record my Ugly Betty and Queer as Folk from last night. I think me and Tivo might be breaking up. Me and Gen are going to go to Jess’s pre-prom later, then I’ll probably go out although my whereabouts haven’t been confirmed yet. I’m going to go physically abuse the Tivo some more. Ciao.
Quotes of the Day:
"Maybe she baths in milk?-Allie
“She was so gothic. Her screen name was LokusMinion.”- Allie
“I just want to hold him…I want to take away his pain”- Me, wailing with Steph to Mika’s “Happy Ending”.
"If when I'm saying goodbye to you and you give me the pat hug, I'm breaking your hand off"-Jess
"Does that mean my dreams about David Duchovny mean that I have to further my relationship with him?"-Me
Chree: omg bob's sucking his dentures and slapping his sandwich
Chree: this is my life
Chree: he doesn't get that me clearing my throat all the time is signal for "you are disgusting!!!" so now i have a raspy throat because he's disgusting all the time.