are you guys fuh-reakin' serious?

while trying to contrive some sort of poem, pretitled "ode to carbon" by winmill, for ap biology class, i am given a yellow hall pass that tells me to go to the conference room, "NOW." since i can read and understand english, i quickly interpret the note as a cry of assistance and request for my super powers, by the justice league of america. unfortunately, when i get to the conference room, which is adjacent to the main office, i do not see batman, superman nor wonderwoman. instead, i meet my ULTIMATE DOOM.

not dr. doom, mind you, the infamous marvel villian and archnemesis of the fantastic four, but a greater evil.

i find out that i've become homecoming prince for the junior class. i wasn't even planning to go to the homecoming dance, but they began to talk about our involvement in the fall sports assembly and the homecoming game, where we walk in with our parents escorting us. if it were some other kid in my position, he'd feel special. but being the pessimistic fool i am, the whole thing feels less like a privilege and more like a burden.

i never understood the hype over this homecoming bullshit. it still doesn't make sense to me, but i still can't help but say that i'm a little excited - a little giddy. yes, of all the superficial indulgences i could have, i pick this stupid process as my object of happiness, but i need a smile on my face for once. still, homecoming is fucking bullshit.

after school, i see amy and minh-tu, and since hearing the news on the school intercom, they congratulate me. i ask amy if she wants my homecoming ticket. she says, "yeah." then i quickly jump farther on to the topic, and i ask her if she wants to go with me. she says, "yeah, sure." and then i resolve in nervous triumph, as if some otherworldly force like the trumpets of fifty cherubims pushes through my throat, my face pointed towards the heavenly ceiling of the student commons, "FUCK YEAH MOTHERFUCKERS, I'M NOT GOING INTO THIS THING ALONE!"

and then i go with gabriel, kyle yugatafa (sp?), and the faggot-fucker in silent denial of his faggot-fucking, james mcveigh, to southcenter, to get fitted for my tuxedo at the tux shop. i wish i could wear a tuxedo every day. if i were in a band, i would want to perform in formal tuxes, while jumping on a giant trampoline.

then we go to coulon, where everyone is running 400 intervals along the course, which we'll be racing on this thursday. i run. i break my sweat. i feel good about my running on this day, even though i didn't start out with the whole team. after we stretch towards the end of practice, the xc team huddles up. all of a sudden, we see the faggot fucker in silent denial of his faggot fucking, james mcveigh, on top of the bathrooms. he is shirtless. he is a fucking monkey. he is a gay monkey. the team acknowledges his stupid and very unentertaining antics, and then winmill tells us about this thursday's race. i notice that linda had weaved her single car key into the running shoe of her right foot, so she could run without holding and/or losing it. i look over to seth, and i make a "vroom vroom" car noise, along with the motion of my foot, as if i am starting the engine of a car. linda looks over to me, and she mugs at me, as if i'm a retard. which i am. i only appreciate this insult/truth, because linda is such a cute little girl.

speaking of which, rommel is back in business at our school [hooray]. apparently at lindbergh, he walked home everyday during lunch, and ate by himself. it sounds sort of depressing, doesn't it.

i love it when ms. miller says, "hola, chico," in her authentic spanish accent. i also love it when ms. miller's assistant teacher speaks, period.

ms. anderson asks me if i know that i make teachers "self-conscious" around me. this excites me. apparently, unbenownst to myself, i make faces to my teachers, when i look at them. weird faces. it's sort of a cool feeling to now know that i make teachers uncomfortable.

after practice, i got a haircut from a chinese lady, in the international district. it's the only professional haircut that i have recieved, that i can remember. the salon was weird. there was this other lady sweeping hair, and she was speaking chinese to the lady cutting my hair. i bet they were commenting on the fact that i haven't shampooed my hair in little over a month, as she ran her fingers through it. it was like i was being probed by extraterrestrials. she shampooed my hair, and it felt good when she massaged my head and wiped my ears. now i look like your typical asian teenager. "short on the sides, spikey on the top," she says. fucking hell.