Happy Mika Day!

As you can tell from my not-very-cryptic message last post, I got the red envelope, the BIG red envelope. I got in to Boston University, alma mater of fellow remarkable people Martin Luther King, Jr., Faye Dunaway [Mommie Dearest herself- "No more wire hangers!!!"], Howard Stern, Jason Alexander [Costanza!] and a few QAF alumnus [Rosie O'Donnell & Peter Paige- EMMETTLOVE!]. I am officially going to college and Augustana's "Boston" is officially my new anthem. After months of waiting and chasing the poor, terrified mailman down, I finally got in and I am ecstatic. So ecstatic that my initial responsive scream put Abigail Bresnin’s puny “Little Miss Sunshine” yelp to shame; Jody thought I was having a convulsion.

Anyhoo, onwards. This week was normal, except for the insane Women’s Day Assembly [which, ironically, made me exceptionally ashamed of my own sex]- during which the Ally McBeal Clone did a spoken-word presentation of “I Am Woman” [HEAR ME ROAR. You know she was itching to go all Christina Aguilera on that one], which then sparked Big D and Mrs. King to belt it out over the loud speaker-and the fact that the male faculty members are publicly challenging each other in a Facial Hair-Off. Fontbonne is a freak show.

Obviously last weekend bombed because I was grounded, but so far this weekend is compensating for the former suckiness big time. Yesterday was MIKA DAY, also known as the greatest day ever in all of the history of mankind. For you unhip, uninformed peasants who don’t know who Mika is, simply, he is God. After school, I, Mallory, Michelle and Deidre [a.k.a Sex and the City-for once, Sarcastic Chree is not stuck being Miranda! I get to be Carrie! WOOT] went to Borders in the Time Warner Center to see the one and only MIKA perform and sign CDS for his debut album “Life in Cartoon Motion”. We had to wait a while for him to get there but the stilt-performers, balloon artists and magicians entertained us, plus blogger Perez Hilton was there, who has an awesome blue fauxhawk, a fact which didn’t decrease Mallory’s disappointment [she thought the announcer dude said Paris Hilton]. Then Mika came out [!!!!] He was perfection personified, as was expected from the Mika-loving masses [We are officially a cult. We listen to such high-pitched falsettos that would make dogs and the Bee Gees shriek, bow down to curly-haired skinny homosexuals wearing dangerously tight pants and consume lollipops in bulk]. He performed “Grace Kelly”, “Love Today” and “Billy Brown”, which sparked a crowd dance party and sing-a-long, although he didn’t fulfill the crowd’s desperate cries for “Lollipop” […cult…].


Note the "To Chree, LOVE Mika". L-O-V-E, people.

After the performance [during which Michelle screamed out quite possibly the most genius thing I’ve ever heard, “YOU HAVE GORGEOUS LOCKS OF…GORGEOUS!”, to the amusement of the entire crowd], we had to wait on line for three hours during the meet-and-greet to get our CDS signed. To amuse ourselves, we made friends with a bunch of people, including a duo of sweet gay boys, an Asian chick and a large pink-haired lady with about eight breasts and a mustache. The boys were Anthony, who we were all jealous and in awe of because he was uber-skinny, had a Mika-esque mop top, got the sexier imported version of the debut, and had an awesome job selling Wicked merchandise at the Gershwin, and Roger, who was a choreographer, a fellow burlesque gogo fan, was our quasi-photographer for the night and exchanged his info with us because he recognized our foursome’s blatant awesomeness. The Asian chick, whose name wasn’t important enough for me to remember, was useless except for pointing me and Deidre in the direction of food and inspiring a sex sermon, and the fat-bottomed girl was Alessandra who kept creeping into our conversations only to brag about meeting Mika the night before and singing loudly off pitch, which resulted in a temporary diversion from our newfound gay idols which made me hate her more.

Our lively conversation ranged from such gripping topics as Mika’s sexual preference [“He’s straight as a lightening bolt”-Roger. “Yup, gay as Christmas”- Me], prom, best canceled sitcoms [ZOOM!], etc, and involved book readings including but not limited to “Why Do Men Have Nipples?” and “How to Raise a One-Year Old”. To our faghag dismay, Anthony had to leave the line before getting Mika’s autograph because he was so late for work, which prompted our desperate pleas for him to call in sick [“Say Mika’s part of your religion”-genius Moi] but alas, we had to say goodbye. After a while the line started moving and we eventually made our way to Mika heaven to take pictures and get our CDs signed. He was adorable and British and charming and amazing and I was so awkward. I just said “You’re awesome!” and grinned at him like a complete lunatic. My eye was probably twitching from excitement. I am so attractive.

After, Roger taught us how to effectively do a squish photoshoot, then we parted and tried to steal Mika balloons but we were caught by security. Poop [we had also planned on stealing a Mika lollipop from the front pocket of Bald Man in front of us but we decided it was too risky]. Went to Mc’Ds [510 calorie burgers!] and was going to stuff our faces at Serendipity but Michelle had to get home so we took subway back to Bay Ridge, on which we performed a loud vocalized rendition of selections from Rent and Chicago to the annoyance of the fellow passengers. Met up with Mike and Justine for a little bit, then went home, where Glenn thought I was drunk [I was high off Mika love!]; rightly so, as I probably looked more drunk in trying to prove my sobriety. Now I am getting tortured at work once again. Seriously, how do they not notice my glares of sheer disgust and utter contempt? I am amazed by their oblivion. Must go. Ciao.

Quote of Yesterday:
“Leiberwurst spielen!”
Translation: Insulted lip protrusion!

P.S. This is why I adore him:

At the very end, you can hear Obnoxious Me scream "Lollipop!!!" like a mental patient.

All Hail The Timberlake

Wednesday night was The Timberlake concert, which judging from the state of Wednesday's panties, was all sorts of hotness [see the February 13th post for my first religion experience with JT]. Me and Janine [a.k.a Weiner] went home after school to primp ourselves to gorgeousness, then our day-long adventure began. We had to take the subway to Penn Station, where we hopped on the LIRR to Hempstead, then had to run to the Hempstead Bus Station where, in true Chree-&-Weiner fashion, we tried to use our New York City school Metrocards to get onto a Long Island bus [The Timberlake is lucky he's a succulent piece of man steak or else we really wouldn't have gone through all that trouble]. Of course, as most sane-minded people know, that did not work but thankfully, two fellow Timberlake fanatics that we met on the line at the bus station [Seriously, you can point us out. We have a crazed glow emanating from our pores] lent us their Metrocards. Without them, we seriously would've been stuck in freaking Hempstead crying over the lack of Sexyback. They're my saviors. We met more concert goers, including a French couple and some Hassidic Jews [The Timberlake brings the world together!] on the way to Nassau Coliseum, making us a very odd but uber-excited group.

When we got there, me and Weiner got into a little pickle. Cameras weren't allowed but of course we needed them to document The Timberlake's prettiness so I came up with the brilliant idea of hiding them in the hoods of our hoodies. I got through the security scanners problem-free and Weiner was almost in the clear when the guard's security stick hit against the camera in her hood. He wouldn't let her through and sent her to the security station which we both ran like fiends to [this would've been insanely awesome if "Chariots of Fire" was playing in the background]. Thankfully, they let her in, with the camera no less. Morons. We got down to the floor just as Pink [bow down bitches] started her set. Again, she's my new hero. You really don't expect her to be that good live but she really is.

The Timberlake= no words can do him justice. He even makes a keytar look sexy. A keytar people. That's talent. Because I already knew the concert format, I was the tard who kept screaming about five minutes before each song came on. Awkward. We got really close and the floor was really fun, except for a few minor nusiances:
1. The abundance of Amazonian giants. As a girl who falls in the petite category, I fully support the idea that venues sell floor tickets in height order- Oompa Loompas in front and Chewbaccas in back. Tall people don't like it? I have to wear heels just to get on a rollercoaster. It's only fair.
2. The gyrating twelve-year-olds who kept bump-n-grinding into us, one of whom even had the audacity to touch my shoulder to ask me about "Dick in a Box", which prompted me to scrub my skin to the point of severe shedding and seriously consider scheduling an HIV test or something. They looked like they were auditioning for Girls Gone Wild: The Preteen Years. Gag.
3. The brutal but entertaining cat fight that broke out in the midst of The Timberlake's set [Blasphemy! You do not claw out hair during "Lovestoned"!]. My theory: they couldn't agree which was hotter- Jew Fro Justin or G.I. Joe Justin.
Special Mention: The girl with the annoying Pebbles Flinstone messy bun in front of us, whose fly-aways kept jabbing me in the cornea when she shimmied and shaked. Asstard.

After the concert ended, went to meet up with my cousin Steph while Janine got paid ten bucks to teach some Russian girls how to use the telephone. We waited for Uncle Steve to pick us up, during which I fell in lust with a cute animal rights activist [I literally took like five pamphlets on pig abuse because he had long eyelashes and a dimple. I'm a desperate mess] and got attacked by a pack of large horses [Explanation: While waiting outside, a huge slate of ice fell off the roof of the Coliseum, scaring the police horses, who then proceeded to chase me, Janine and Steph. Steph stood there body frozen and mouth agape, Janine flung me into a steel sign out of sheer terror and I ended up crippled with hysteria and a bruised wenus. This is why my life is mine]. Went back to Uncle Steve's where I threw up [from migraine, not from sudden Timberlake separation or the wounded wenus] and got embarrassed by my entire family [ex: Drunk Joey driving us home, Grandpa screaming about pork chops, Aunt Annie shamelessly commenting about my plethora of exposed breast, etc.] Got home at 1, slept for 1.2 seconds and was off to school the next morning. We're the definition of troopers.

Other than that, the week was normal. Stayed home on Monday because it was supposed to be Senior Cut Day but apparently I didn't get the memo that I was the only senior cutting. Sick. Thursday and Friday, had a mental breakdown caused by the apparent lack of brain activity of one certain large-nostril'ed nun who decided to seat me in the corner next to her like a disobedient kindergartner rather than a college-bound senior, and who then proceeded to tell me I looked like a nervous wreck. Suck my hole and suck it hard sister. Hope you choke to death on some holy water. I took out my angst on B's chalkboard for forty minutes, which turned into one of the best pieces I've ever done. Home hasn't been much better. I have been grounded the entire weekend because of the St. Patty's ordeal [see March 18th's Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced post]. I've tried to quicken my imprisonment by sleeping an obscene amount of hours a day [although Thursday night I did wake up at record time, approximately 8:01, just in time for Ugly Betty. Jesus, even my subconscious is ruled by television], which has also helped the diet seeing as how my mouth is preoccupied with snoring. Speaking of which, I am very proud to say that for the past week, I have actually exercised. Yes, people, Chree said, er typed the word exercise. I became acquainted with the Elliptical and we've begun a very casual but promising relationship. Till now, my only weight loss attempt other than Weight Watchers was switching to light beer. I am currently at work, wasting the day with Japanese Figure Skating and a Saturday afternoon movie with Russell Crowe in a furry squirrel hat. I'm done. Ciao.

Edit: Pictures of The Timberlake will hopefully be up soon.
Random Thought: Whatever happened to Jonathan Taylor Thomas?