you know the girl who tries to get people to sign their yearbook and no one does? it's like in those cliched highschool movie moments where the main character flips through the pages of the yearbook (closeup shot) and it's blank. ah epiphany! ah clarity! that's why she's invisible (buffy ref), that's why she went on that shooting rampage. now i know none of you made me want to cry. some of the things i suggest may seem more metaphoric than an actual earnest suggestion. but not even 1 of my 2 readers could bring themselves to write anything. not even penelope could find sympathy for this wistful imagining on my part. but it's like the kid whose birthday it is wants to play a game and everyone decides it's entirely too lame so no one does. and the kid is left alone on the field. clearly his heart is being compacted into a black little ball of malice and indifference but no one cares.
i was also going to talk about my love for this community i have and the possibility of laser tag next week but it got erased- and none of this has the brilliance of my lost entry so i have to say adieu for now- i'm off to make an egg sandwich.
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Now this will be seen as a pity entry, but there's nothing going on at work and I'm fighting the post-lunch stupor. So here it goes...
M-
I'm soooo glad we met. You looked so cute in your uniform when we had that job together! Remember when we put the tent up in the rain, and our steaming "hot" chocolate was kinda warm?
You are a great friend, and we have to stay in touch. Have a good summer, and go to some more museums and art shows and movies and stuff!
PP Class of '03-'04 forever!
i want pity. this is exactly what's going to make me feel better.
Remember the marshmellows were totally stale and mr. pelton kept telling us we couldn't take any bathroom breaks. but we left anyway. and we couldn't stop laughing when mike knocked over that whole row of chairs. lol.
you rock. thanks. (and i'll totally see you this summer.)xoxo
This morning i am both cranky and bloated so this will have to be brief. Havng once condcted a torrid love affair with a yearbook staffer, i understand not only the all too common stress of acquiring signatures to affirm one's social standng, but also have witnessed first hand the immense pressure associated with having to decide which paper stock to provide for them. Poor Emily. Still, this burden was lessened by blazing, almost animalistic, make-out sessions which often times found our bodies rolling over the very same pictures which would bring memories to so many. Yet only two people will ever know what happened on top of the homecoming collage, and how long it lasted.
oh my god. you were they? i can't believe it. when meghan told me what she saw i called her a bold faced liar. she didn't speak to me for a week!
i can't really say that counted as a yearbook entry. but maybe it was the best ever- our homecoming party was a blast.
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