Infintessimal decimals

So after "French" I had English, which was crazy awesome as usual.

BUT may I just say, what the fuck does that bitch who sits at the back of our classroom with her laptop think she is? I swear if she asks me to say 'please', or tell me not to come in late. OUR REAL TEACHER DOESN'T MIND AND NOR SHOULD YOU. May I also tell you to stop trying to start the class earlier when Mr. Wheeler isn't there, it's not making you anymore popular with us 'kids' and I kind of want to put your head in a fishbowl with piranhas in it (T and Stoner were showing me the sickest - and most awesomely cool - videos of rats getting torn apart by piranhas, now that's entertainment. p.s. I would like a piranha for christmas please?)

So we had lunch time and Box Box came into my school which always makes me feel super happy. I also saw Buckle for the last ever time which was mucho depressing, but I wrote him a nice letter in philosophy which I spent ages decorating, I fucking hope he appreciates that shit, I did it in my BEST handwriting... During lunch I didn't do much, caught up with Box Box which was pretty nice - she doesn't read my blog which is usually grounds to ditch a friend but she is more like a dirty bandaid - she's ugly, slightly yellow and refuses to get off my back. I kid :).

Lunch was finally over - I hate lunchtimes at my school, they make me feel so AWKWARD! Seriously, talk about getting "SSC-ed" (the act of standing with a group of people who suddenly disperse and leave you all alone looking like a pillock) - that shit happens to ME everyday. Though I am pretty sure it's not by accident. I must make friends I must make friends I must make friends...

Anyway, Fresh Air Buddie and I decided that assembly sucked so we ditched and got ready to leave school. However Mr. I'm-a-dwarf-and-i-feel-emasculated-around-real-men-like-Cassi-Wightman was standing at the gate so we couldn't leave, much to our dismay. But we were dying for a cigarette and there was no way we were going back to assembly, so we climbed all the stairs to our old smoking place. However, this has become risky over the last couple of months as random teachers occasionally wander up there and we have to stub out our cigs (I fucking hate wasting cigarettes) and act innocent (which is highly difficult with a face like mine). So, Fresh Air Buddie (the brains behind many a furtive smoking operations came up with a brilliant idea : we slit UNDER the gate of the tennis court and climbed UP the ladder to the roof roof, it was ingenius! I was v. impressed and only SLIGHTLY put off by my fear of ladders (well, okay, I was a lot put off but that doesnt sound very cool, does it?).

So after our various inhalation escapades we returned to the ground to go retrieve FAB's bag from the locker room... But alas! as we round the corner we almost come face to face with Mr. St. Paul. Luckily for us, Mr. St. Paul doesn't realise the difference between assembly and break time (I bet he couldnt even find his way to his own nose, as nice as he is) so we had a quick chat with him which resulted in no detentions... result!

After this near perilous run-in with a teacher we finally got to the locker room where we found a whole bunch of people sitting on the floor, avoiding assemblies - this is how much our school hates Mr. Wickins' speeches, they are so boring they make reading Jane Austen sound appealing and I fucking HATE Jane Austen.

I met up with Box Box at around 3:20 and we hopped down to Mongkok to take the train back to civilization (Central, nowhere in Kowloon is civilised). Then we shimmied our way to Cotton On where I inadvertantly borrowed some lingerie and a jumper (or three). I then persuaded Box Box that coming to my house would be MUCH more useful in later life than studying for her SATs which are on Saturday (OR CATTURDAY! :):):) ), so she came over to my ghetto mid-levels apartment.

MAY I JUST TELL YOU ONE THING ABOUT MY APPARTMENT: It is small. Think... if you ever found the last digit of pi and put as many zeros in front of it as digits, thats the size of my house in square millimetres. Or if you measure how many minutes of school Muffin DOESN'T sleep through and you will have the size of my flat in millimetres. My house is smaller than Box Box's boobs! NOW do you get my point? AND, of this space, my dog takes up approximately ten 5ths of it (for you idiots out there, that's twice the size). It's not much fun going to my house...

I wish I had money. I would rather have money than love. I know a lot of people who say this, but I am abso-fucking-lutely serious. Love can't buy you the new box of pure gold crayons or a pet piranha with diamond teeth (though I am sure if you have ever broken up with someone you have felt like throwing them to the piranhas, money will allow for this) and other absolutely necessary items for day to day life.

Alas, my faithful readers, when I have money I shall die happily when I get eaten by my jewel encrusted piranha...
:)