2002-10-08 - 9:24 a.m.
Yesterday in Foundations I watched a presentation being made by two girls. One was slightly pretty, blonde, perky, cheerfully smiling the whole time, but seemed more of a jittery nervous type of perky, cause she was talking really really fast. The other girl was not very pretty, with a very dour expression and she was silent through most of the presentation. I nicknamed them Perky and Helen Keller. Don't ask me why I did this, I just did.
For some unfathomable reason, the duo reminded me of Peppermint Patty and Marcy from Charlie Brown. To help combat my boredom (Cause their presentation sucked ass, and Perky was talking so fast I couldn't understand half of it anyway, so I had to do something until they opened up to questions and Massive O'Toole said something stupid again for us all to laugh at.)
I began to theorize on why it was that the two of them were behaving so differently. I figured Helen Keller was always like that, and was also a lesbian.
Perky probably had her first "homoerotic encounter" at the hands of Helen Keller one night while they were up late working on their project. Perky, being an upper-middle class suburban white girl, freaks out.
"I can't turn gay, daddy will kill me!"
Now Perky feels really awkward around Helen Keller, doesn't know how to act, and she's covering up this nervousness (unsuccessfully) by smiling a lot and frantically pretending like nothing is wrong and being cheerful to the point where you want to slap her and talking at about one hunderend and fifty MILLION WORDS A MINUTE.
What a great Charlie Brown cartoon that would have made, huh?
"Uh...but Marcy...oh...uh...I'm not gay...oooh."
"Your vagina would indicate otherwise, sir."
Okay, that was wrong. I'm sorry. That last couplet (get it?) was totally over the top and unnecessary.
On second thought, that was totally necessary. It was fun, and I don't know about you, but I feel a lot less bored now. It's really entertaining to make up back stories about people you don't know, based solely on their appearance and mannerisms. For example, there's this idiot in one of my classes who's a walking Goth stereotype. I know that he plays the Vampire role-playing game, and he wears a t-shirt with an "A Fire Inside" (The band) logo on it. A quick check of the Ripon directory, however, reveals that he's from an upper-middle class, primarily white suburban area of Illinois.
Our story-
Morons parents won't let him have a car (or the right kind of car) or extend his curfew to 11 on schoolnights when he turns 16, so he punishes his mom and dad (who, by not giving in to his demands, are naturally evil, abusive monsters). He discovers that wearing a studded leather dog collar is a wonderful means of self-expression, and black fingernail polish perfectly reflects the black void his soul has become (lemme know if I miss anything here.) THis causes the other kids to pick on him (for dressing like a retard), which only amplifies his searing ball of angst at the core of his being until finally his only recourse is to give in to the "Fire Inside" and turn to the one thing that can allow him to express himself freely-
The Vampire Role-playing game. He even uses his $50 a week allowance to spring for the customized White Wolf dice, because it's important that his random numbers reflect the tortured darkness of his soul. He becomes a child of the blood, and hopefully, one day, Jesse Custer will come along and put a fist through his mouth because Jesse Custer, though a fictional character, is one of the only people ever who wasn't completely full of shit.
End of Story.
We're all wankers, let's face it. I know I'm a wanker. And if you look at yourselves honestly for about six seconds, and not just at the image you want to see, you'll realize that you're a wanker too.
Now, wasn't that a nice little bedtime story?
Ken, it's 9:45 am. You've been up for a couple hours now.
Right. WEll then, what's for fucking breakfast?
Ken
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