three in the morning productions

hoppy am I

My weekend was soaked up by a Model UN event, which I and fellow classmates attended among other top, bright students from snotty-we've-got-indoor-pools-and-buses-that-actually-run-on-four-wheels schools. By soaked, I meant that there came down a Great Flood to remind us of how perfectly low and despicable we are as human beings through the course of this three day assembly. Interestingly enough, rain was not the only thing falling; there were the occasional cases of heads and pants too. But boy oh boy, I had bunches and muches of fun!

The kids there were all so hardcore. I mean sure, I take academic stuff seriously, but these were the kind who if their proposed resolution got knocked down ran out of the room wailing like anguished mother baboons.

As a representative of the noble country of Madagascar, I and my fellow delegate abstained--courteously--from voting on the majority of resolutions. We worked diligently to amuse ourselves with ~silent constructive observations~ of the other delegates (just simple honest evalutions really: 'Turkey, your haircut makes you look like a turkey' 'UK, go get laid!' 'Dur hey I'm Egypt, Gimme an R,E,H,T,U,R,D--spell it out, what do you see, ritard that's me!' Muaha--they had no idea--ahaha!). How ironic it was that our seeming nonchalance drew quite the admiration of many. Furthermore, our neutrality constituted for the swing vote--hah, no one didn't want Madagascar on their side!

But as it turned out, the council sessions were only something to do in between the real action. The party on Saturday night was designed specifically to show us that we were the kids who do ~not~ get invited to the parties. And by throwing this revelation in our faces, the intention was to discourage us from following the path of decadence and instead feverishly pursue ambition and power to compensate for our being social lepers. Bah. That didn't stop me from busting out a groove (and busting up the floor and chairs and yeah, probably people too, whilst so doing). Really, I had to be dragged away before I was confined to my own hazard zone. The highlight of my night was our taking a transit bus and getting off at the exact same location where we got on. I took pleasure in watching the many different faces, attaching stories to them, their movements, and mannerisms--their smiles and silence, as they came and went. Well yes, we've already established that I get bored easily.

It was a good kind of bored! I returned home this afternoon exhausted, grinning at snatches of memories of moments, with a mind to nap. And just after I'd managed to navigate through the pile of fashion debris in my room, excavating the bed and crawling in it--the moment I began to drift off to happy sleepy land, my older brother pulled a hypersystolic-pressure-picker-upper-act by bursting into my room and shouted that I should "get up because we're going running." This was when I sat up, smiled, yawned, stretched, rubbed my eyes sleepily and murmmured, "You're out of your fucking mind."

Neverbloodymind what I said about my being happy that my brother is home. Making me run on four hours of sleep while he sings to me his stupid army, navy, whatevermilitary song *stab stab rarararr!!* He'll pay. Oh he'll pay, when I--ah, my shins and ah, my feet! Oh, pity me, pity me!

03.02.03 - 10:42 p.m.

	hoppy am I My weekend was soaked up by a Model UN event, which I and fellow classmates attended among other top, bright students from snotty-we've-got-indoor-pools-and-buses-that-actually-run-on-four-wheels schools. By soaked, I meant that there came down a Great Flood to remind us of how perfectly low and despicable we are as human beings through the course of this three day assembly. Interestingly enough, rain was not the only thing falling; there were the occasional cases of heads and pants too. But boy oh boy, I had bunches and muches of fun! The kids there were all so hardcore. I mean sure, I take academic stuff seriously, but these were the kind who if their proposed resolution got knocked down ran out of the room wailing like anguished mother baboons. As a representative of the noble country of Madagascar, I and my fellow delegate abstained--courteously--from voting on the majority of resolutions. We worked diligently to amuse ourselves with ~silent constructive observations~ of the other delegates (just simple honest evalutions really: 'Turkey, your haircut makes you look like a turkey' 'UK, go get laid!' 'Dur hey I'm Egypt, Gimme an R,E,H,T,U,R,D--spell it out, what do you see, ritard that's me!' Muaha--they had no idea--ahaha!). How ironic it was that our seeming nonchalance drew quite the admiration of many. Furthermore, our neutrality constituted for the swing vote--hah, no one didn't want Madagascar on their side! But as it turned out, the council sessions were only something to do in between the real action. The party on Saturday night was designed specifically to show us that we were the kids who do ~not~ get invited to the parties. And by throwing this revelation in our faces, the intention was to discourage us from following the path of decadence and instead feverishly pursue ambition and power to compensate for our being social lepers. Bah. That didn't stop me from busting out a groove (and busting up the floor and chairs and yeah, probably people too, whilst so doing). Really, I had to be dragged away before I was confined to my own hazard zone. The highlight of my night was our taking a transit bus and getting off at the exact same location where we got on. I took pleasure in watching the many different faces, attaching stories to them, their movements, and mannerisms--their smiles and silence, as they came and went. Well yes, we've already established that I get bored easily. It was a good kind of bored! I returned home this afternoon exhausted, grinning at snatches of memories of moments, with a mind to nap. And just after I'd managed to navigate through the pile of fashion debris in my room, excavating the bed and crawling in it--the moment I began to drift off to happy sleepy land, my older brother pulled a hypersystolic-pressure-picker-upper-act by bursting into my room and shouted that I should "get up because we're going running." This was when I sat up, smiled, yawned, stretched, rubbed my eyes sleepily and murmmured, "You're out of your fucking mind." Neverbloodymind what I said about my being happy that my brother is home. Making me run on four hours of sleep while he sings to me his stupid army, navy, whatevermilitary song stab stab rarararr!! He'll pay. Oh he'll pay, when I--ah, my shins and ah, my feet! Oh, pity me, pity me! 03.02.03 - 10:42 p.m.