Jackpot Junction!

Two highlights today:

1. I was walking through the bitter cold over to German when a young man with shaggy blond hair, thick-rimmed glasses, jeans and a suit coat ran by me. When a pair of female hicks called his name, he skidded to a halt and started jogging in place next to them. Their dialouge was as follows (SC=suit coat guy, HG1=hick girl 1 [his girlfriend, I assume], HG2=hick girl 2):

HG1: Where are you goin?
SC: Over THERE! (gestures beyond Missy Ho, possibly meaning CLC)
HG1: WHAT? You're going to walk there?
SC: Oh yeah!
HG1: Don't, you'll freeze to death!
SC: I'm a goin'! (SC sets off at a sprint)
HG1 (to HG2): Can I be late to class?
HG2: No, not today.
HG1: Shit! But he's gonna freeze!
HG2: More likely he'll fall and break his hip again.
HG1 (shouting after SC): Don't break your hip! We need it for Friday!


Good times.



2. So after school today I was casually discussing the photos on Linda Dockter's door with Kubas and Linda. We were talking about how Mrs. Evans (the yearbook advisor) had skulked down to Linda's office and obtained the picture of me in a sweater (see right) which I had given to Linda for the AP scholar spread. It was Linda's understanding that it was for the top ten or something, not to replace my actual yearbook photo (see below).



Rebbeca (sp?) Wicklund overheard us and commented on how "Mrs. Evans really didn't like that photo." I asked her what she meant, and she revealed that Mrs. Evans was planning to remove my photo of choice and replace it with the besweatered lame-o shot.

Naturally I stormed down to the Brainonian office and asked Mrs. Evans about it. I had, after all, complied with the picture guidelines, and the yearbook had accepted my photo when I'd first submitted it. She gave me a couple of lame excuses about how "Some people spent $800 on these pictures" and how I was "making fun of the whole concept of senior photos." Oh, the audacity!

I argued in the most respectful terms I could (I didn't insult her once!), and finally told her that if I couldn't have the basketball pic in, I didn't want any photo at all. She responded that the senior photo page had already been sent in and was "at the printers in Kansas."

I broccoli stomped home and was barely in the door when the phone rang. It was Mrs. Evans for me. She told me that although she was "not happy about it," my basketball photo would appear in the senior photo section after all. She claimed that it was because some other kid had submitted a similar photo and the yearbook had no replacement for him, but I know the real reason why: fear. I could smell it on her.

But seriously folks--I'm glad this problem solved itself. I was worried I was going to have to protest the decision somehow. A public burning of my yearbook? Refuse to submit any info for the "best of the class" thing? Or pull a Mattson and write an indignant letter to the FSJ?

It's not that I have a problem with throwing a shit fit over something this petty, but having to decide to what extent I should base my letter of protest on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Letter From Birmingham Jail? I don't need that kind of stress.

P.S.: When I thought about it, I came up with three more highlights
3.When Seniora Maine came in, discovered that P had not one, not two, but THREE different foreign language scrabble games, and cried out "Jackpot junction!"
4. When I burned Sam on his new dot-matrix deer-jumping-a-log sweater:"Hey Sam, nice shirt. Does it come in hetero?"
5. This sweet gay joke: "Hey Sam, how do you know when two Irishmen are gay? (Dirty look from Sam) When Patrick Fitzwilliam and William Fitzpatrick!"

Hey-Oh!