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Spaghetti Pie Is No Good Cold

2003-03-27 - 11:58 p.m.

Mood: Tired as Fuck

Listening To: Simon & Garfunkel, Grand Funk Railroad, David Byrne, Guster

Quote:"That's not an elephant - that's Andrea." - Kate

It's late. I shouldn't be writing an entry. I should be in bed. Or studying. Or studying in bed. Or reading comics in bed. Or reading comics in Maura Tierney's bed - while she puts the finishing touches on the spaghetti pie. Mmmmmm. Spaghetti pie. Made by Maura Tierney. For me to eat. In her bed. While I read comics. I am so sad. But I love it!

So I'm sitting in French this morning and Anne-Emmanuelle is making us do some group work on this guy who did stuff in France and then he died and everyone was sad. I don't know, I wasn't really paying much attention since Secret Crush was in my group. Wait, wait, let me back-up - this is funny, or spirit-crushingly pathetic, depending how you look at it (my vote is cast for "funny".) I need it to be known that when I come into French class each morning I look at how many people are there and who's sitting where. Secret Crush comes in after me almost every morning. So I try to sit somewhere so there's an empty chair on either side of me. That way, the chances of Secret Crush sitting next to me increase that much more. Of course, if she's there first, I just sit next to her if there's an empty seat. And if there's no vacant seat I just sit as close as possible while carving Z.F. + S.C. in a heart on whatever desk I'm at. They call it puppy love. Anyway, back to the thing I was gonna say before I got all distracted by my overtly stalkerish ways. So today, we were doing stuff in groups and the phrase "a la mode" is used a lot in the shit we're reading. Now, what you may not know, is "a la mode" actually means "with / in fashion". So yes, it's Pie In Fashion. The fashionable thing being to slather vanilla ice cream all over it. But we were reading about diversity in France or some such shit so it was something like "France a la mode", or "Planete a la mode". I don't know. Anyway, so of course I made the ice cream joke a few times, and people tittered and laughed and as usual Anne-Emmanuelle just stared at me and was probably thinking, "Ne mammalons pas ici si vous plait." Ok, she probably wasn't thinking that. ANYWAY, so a little while later, Shane, who is one of the people in the class who I actually find humorous and who usually gets more of my asides than anyone else uses the "a la mode" joke just like I did. I'm guessing he didn't hear me, since that's not like him to so obviously recycle my joke. So I a yell to Shane, who's in a group on the other side of the room, "Hey. Shane. A la mode jokes? Yeah, that's so 5 minutes ago." Which, I realize as I type it now really isn't all that funny. But I'm telling you, it fucking killed this morning. So Shane laughs and everyone else laughs (except for Fucky, who of course mutters under her dog breath, "it means 'with fashion' not 'with ice cream'.") And Secret Crush looks at me and says, "That was a good one Zach." And she was serious! She wasn't being sarcastic! My synapses started going haywire since it's hard for me to react to sincerity. So I think I kind of just sat there with a dopey look on my face for a couple of seconds. [What am I talking about, she could have asked to borrow a pencil and I would have had the same reaction.] But man, I take too long to get to the best part, cause none of this was even the best of the parts. So near the end of class we're talking about vacation spots in France and I break out my little factoid about Paris tourism. "Ya know," I say to my group. "For thirty years after 1971 the three most popular tourist attractions in all of Paris were #1 - The Eiffel Tower, #2 - The Louvre, and #3 . . ." and I get cut off when Secret Crush pipes up, "Jim Morrison's grave." And that's when my heart multiplied into a million little lizards. My first reaction was that "Hey, she ruined my story!" So the first thing I said was, "Hey, you ruined my story!" And she just smiles in her Gee-I-Wish-I-Wasn't-Engaged-So-I-Could-Date-Someone-Who-Knows-A-Lot-About-NewsRadio way. So I say, "How did you know that?" And she just looks at me in her Don't-You-Think-Talking Heads-Are-Underrated-Because-I-Sure-Do way and says, "I like The Doors . . . don't you?" She is such a fucking minx. I can't take it.

I don't really mention the whole driving thing much I guess. I don't know. It's ok. Of course I wait to get my license when gas is almost $2.00 a gallon. I quite enjoy driving with the window down with the music loud. I only wish I had a "kickin' system" like Ben did in high school so I could romper around town blasting Metallica. Except I don't. I need to get the damn wipers fixed. And the passenger window is fucked up six ways from Sunday. Ok, actually, just one way from Sunday, and the way is that if you roll it down it can get stuck and if you roll it up some times it just keeps going up. And up. And out of the window frame. Just ask Hayley, she'll tell you all about it. I don't know where to go to get all the shit fixed. I dare not get stuck in the stank quagmire that is Belknap Tire. If I need to tell you why than you are uglier than a bag full of assholes. [Friend, I know that one didn't work very well, but just the fact that I worked it in deserves points]

Hi! Hayley here! Remember that time I broke Zach's window? I think we all remember what a great time that was!

Speaking of driving, guess where I drove to today after class? I'll give a small hint: It is the Queen of all the Dairy. Give up?! Sawyer's Dairy Barn! No you dopes, Dairy Queen. Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm good. And it even had Hot Eats! Not just Cool Treats! It was the one in Kittery, and even though they seem to charge a tad more than the Prescott's used to I still enjoyed it. Even if I had to order a hectare of ice cream to lug back to the big big biggies at work who made up their "order list" when I got to work today. I picked up Moe's and Dairy Queen! I would marry me if I wasn't already marrying a carrot (and Maura Tierney, and Secret Crush, and the Debbie Harry of 1981, and Niko, and Wobbly at CVS, the list just goes on.) Anyway, we had lots of Moe's and lots of Blizzardy treats. But it's still not fast food! I've kept up my end of Lent thus far! Not that I'm pointing fingers. It's really more of a wag. A wagging finger that says, "Ahhh yeah, I win the Lent contest beeyatch! Take that!" That last part is funny because Kate is gonna be all, "Um, when did we make it a contest?" and then I'll have to tell her later, "Oh we didn't officially or anything, it just made it sound funnier in my journal." Except now I won't have to tell her since, you know . . . I just typed it.(And for those of you wondering when I became Catholic, fear not, I did no such thing. Kate and I just heard that giving up something for Lent would make us popular. We're suckers for stuff like that.)

Look at this shit. It's like some kind of evil, reverse, dare I say - Bizzaro Dairy Queen! I wouldn't put it past Utah to house something like this.

Am I the only one that thinks Spring smells like rain-soaked briquettes? Hello? Is this thing on? Trust me. It smells just like that. And I am fond of that smell. Rain-soaked briquettes? I like that.

I don't think I'm going to type anymore tonight. I have to go to bed. Spaghetti Pie is no good cold.

It's been real,


ps - Did I actually just write an entry on French and Dairy Queen and fail to make that old chesnut of a joke "plus-que peanut buster parfait"? Oh well. Too late now.

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