aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

gabriel picks me up from my house, and we head on over to renton stadium for the homecoming football game half-time show rehearsal. we pull into the parking lot, and see some cute girls from another school. i just look at them, as i eat my banana. as we park, other homecoming princes and princesses show up, and we head in. it is bullshit. ms. yates and mr. rogers keep changing the way in which we process, and i get irritated. me and meliha are unsure if we have to hook hands while we stand before the crowd, or if we disconnect. homecoming is fucking retarded, but at least i am escorted by a cool princess.

then gabe, molly, derek, linda, and michael utu head over to wendy's. jamal and greg show up too. a lady gets mad at the cashier, and then she requests to speak to the manager. meanwhile, linda is getting scrutinized for eating teriyaki chicken and rice in a wendy's, by some black guys. i order a frosty, and i eat it with a knife. i whisper "motherfucker" into linda's ear, and she turns around, and asks me if i called her a "motherfucker." i say, "no." then, me, gabe and molly go home.

dead fuh-reakin half-day.

minh-tu says she's going to miss my thick hair. i'm going to miss her hands running through it.

in biology, john cohoe steps up to the front of the class, following justin thornton's surprisingly special singing performance, to read his carbon poem. he speaks like a beat poet/non-chalant comedian, and it ends with "they brew alcohol in his basement." and this is about fucking carbon, yo!

35 minute periods would seem like it would be ROCKfuckingON-worthy, but it isn't, not if you're planning anything special for after school.

xc practice is starting to bug me. we get a lecture from winmill, and then we run two laps around the field, 6 strides, and then me, gabriel, and mitchell run towards the bench. mitch turns around earlier than us, so it is just gabe and me who make it to the bench and back. i'm rather proud of myself, for not stopping as much as my mind wanted me to. yay!

gabriel wants me to eulogize for him at his funeral.

after practice, i take off my shirt, and twirl it above my head, like seth. winmill sees me, and tells me to not quit my day job. and then i say, "what, stripping?" and then a thought bubble pops out of winmill's head, that said, 'no, i'm just kidding, be as gay as you want, i think it's awesome!'

tomorrow's race will fucking murder me. i run slower than conner mccoy, one of the biggest fags at our school. he is worse than james mcveigh. james mcveigh is fucking cool, in comparison to connor mccoy. well, i wouldn't go that far. but yes, conner is gay. and for this instance, being "gay" is something bad.

i will never become a "blog of note," with all of this gay-bashing i do.

after xc practice, i see tyree, rj, larry greene (sp?), erik peterson, minh-tu, amy, and some other people working on homecoming decorations, and eating. i tell amy that i don't even know how we're getting to the homecoming dance, and she offers to drive. i say, "but that's sort of funny," like some chauvanistic asshole. this is a new day and age, after all. amy's dress will be turquoise!

i borrow $0.50 from a.j. (now i'm in her fucking debt... aaaaaaa!), to take the 106 home. tyree, rj, and i, walk to the bus stop. we get ambushed by mustafa, and then the 106 comes. i ride the bus, and i see a gay asian dude with a denim vest and sunglasses. mustafa says, "that's you in 10 years, joe!" i forgive him though, because mustafa comes from the motherland, africa. but amongst all of the black people (american slave roots), i wonder, "why hasn't the vernacular of black culture evolved yet? why do they sound so fucking stupid?"

i will never become a "blog of note," with all of the racist comments i make.

i reach home, and then i write this fourth chapter of my daily memoirs.

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.

fuh-resh, oh yes.

my alarm clock rings at 5:00 am, and i sort of wake up in a half-sense of reality. i go back to sleep, and i awake at 5:30 to my mom saying, "this is why you are always late." so i take my shower, eat my two pancakes for breakfast, and head out to my monday at renton highschool.

in zero period, i remember that we are taking a test on the g major scale, of which i haven't learned at all. but me and ricky are like, "oh well," and we go for it, in a very unpleasant and out of tune fashion. i am tone deaf. once it is all over, i say to ricky, "it's a work of art, what we do," and he replies with "heh, yeah." ms. dosch follows us up with a comment for ricky's performance, "ricky, very interesting fingering," she says, "BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CREATIVE!"

first period, like always, is a load of crap. mr. dowd treats us like grade schoolers, and we relearn some ultra-fucking basic design principles. we reach an all time low, by analzying the symmetry and asymmetry of a fucking pencil. even though this is a web design class, mr. dowd tells us we will be making our actual web sites towards the end of this year, like january. "fuck you, man," is all i have to say about that.

onwards, rushing to second period, i arrive in mr. day's class. good ol' american studies. my group, which includes lexter, jason, kirandeep, and minh-tu, actually does some productive work. i am proud. however, all through the period, i await the ringing of the bell that signals our break time.

*beeeeep* break is all right. i see a couple of people voting for homecoming court, but then i remember that i don't give a fuck about it, even though i have been nominated for our junior class, and so i turn around, and steal alan bautista's little black bouncy ball. i run up to the second floor, and toss it back to him, and i run again, away from the souless administrator that would have otherwise "had a word" with me.

third period, american studies part deux, and all i can think of is lunch time.

*beeeeep* lunch is all right. i do my spanish homework, and eat some chips and warm cheese sticks.

fourth period is sort of hair-wrecking, as i am behind on my spanish skiiing terms. the assistant spanish teacher's american accent, while she speaks spanish, is sort of cute.

fifth period biology, for the first 40 minutes, is just working out of the book to complete a worksheet. but the last fifteen minutes get interesting, as winmill scientifically ponders our existence, in contrast to a perspective based on philosophical theology. it brings me back to my freshman year, when i used to think love was just a chemical reaction. winmill goes on and on, excitedly, about our molecules and dna formulating the sole purpose of our lives, ideas which would have made any calvinistic puritan furious. an onlooking spectator would have seen me and rj just laughing in the back, and made the assumption that we're elitests of some existentialist thought movement. boy, does this bring me back to me, as a 9th grader.

sixth period is just chill, sort of. tyree rubs a newspaper in my face, and i get ink all around my eyes. then anthony punches me in the stomach, and i whip my elbow into his spine, in retaliation. we are journalism students; talking stick reporters. it's a beautiful thing. somewhere during all of this crazyness, i mug at linda, and she gets back at me by laying down 14 assignments due for muckerheide's independent study calculus class, due by the end of this six week grading period.

cross country practice is what it's all about. i need some shorts to run in, and so does anthony, so we go back to his house. he doesn't have any clean pairs, so he puts on some sweat pants, even though the blazing sun is... well... blazing. i plan to do the same once we return to renton, but when we get back, gabe has an extra pair for me. they make me itch. then mustafa, seth, and i get into anthony's car, and ant just hits the pedal to the metal, towards kelsey-creek.

the car ride getting there is awesome. the wind is blowing, the music is setting the mood, and we're mugging and making faces at cars going by. then all of a sudden, we spot these teenage fags - no, not us - in a shitty brown car, with a racing stripe going down the middle of it's body. anthony picks up a pencil from under my feet (all the while driving at a high speed on the freeway), and waits for the right time, just before we get on to the exit ramp, and he chucks it at them.

the actual running part of practice becomes sort of a bummer for me. we all run these migraine-steep hills in some deep forest area, and i blast into first place for most of my first loop. devin, mustafa, and anthony are all screaming behind me, "we have to do this shit for 30 minutes," but no. do i listen? hardly not. i keep going at it, and after finishing my first loop, with a sense of accomplishment, i stop and bend down to tie my shoe. right then and there, do i notice that i am winded and tired, and when i try to run again, i feel myself falter and slow down. rob morrow, who we have just dubbed "fag," is running right in front of me now, and the distance between us keeps getting longer and longer. in sporadic bursts of energy, i race back to right behind him, but i hit a mental wall, and all i can think of is "fuck you, man."

all in all, i do about 3.2 loops, out of the 4 that were supposed to done by a quality "varsity runner," like devin and mustafa. anthony breaks out the guns, and does 4 of them himself, which is pretty impressive. he is now winmill's new sex child.

while running on the wooden trails/hills, i spot another team. after a pack of boys, a couple of girls show up, trailing behind. right at that moment, i'm walking up a hill, because i'm in "fuck you, man" mode, but one of the girls says "good job" to me, and it makes all of my wounds better. well, not quite. but it was cool to get some encouragement, or pity, from some female stranger.

then we run a couple of strides up a hill, which are supposed to be faster than race pace, and i do 5 of 6 strides. "fuck you, man," i'm tired. time for a cool down.

cool down, cool down, cool down. run, run run. running basically gets even more gay from here, but we stop for a drink of water, and to stretch.

i blow minh-tu a kiss, and she blows me a kiss back. i put in the copy of pinkerton (weezer) that tyree gave me today, in search of the perfect song to play for seth, which starts with the line, "goddamn you half japanese girls, you do it to me all the time..." right when i put it in, the stereo is on full blast, and i scream "HOLY SHIT BALLS MOTHERFUCKER" really loud, which cracks up seth. the people in linda's car look at me, and then we leave. the car ride back is just as fun as it was going the other way, and it feels just fucking cool to ride with these guys. mustafa mockingly nodding his head to semisonic is just precious, and him and seth just staring at marvin law's "hilarious face" in linda's car is just twice as funny.

we stop at renton. i see some people, but then me and ant just bounce. we spot japanese brian walking towards us, and he gives anthony the 411 on the tuxedo situation. i reach home. i eat a peanut butter jelly sandwich. i take a shower. i eat a banana. and then, i type up this pointlessly in-depth and long narrative.

i know i'll appreciate myself for writing this much, later on, but it takes so goddamn long for me to type all of this. well, i'm off to do all of my homework. peace.

fuh-reakin' freak.

friday night, anthony picks me up, and we chill at his house for about 45 minutes, watching the middle part of panic room (which i want to see all of, now). we leave his house to pick up rj, and he brings blade 2 over back to anthony's, which we begin to watch, right after anthony has his counterstrike fix, with larry bushnell naturally cracking his funny-talk through the same cs network. i can only stay awake to see the first half of the movie, and then i just fall asleep on one of anthony's lounge chair/recliner-type things. those chairs are mighty comfy, i must say. if i was a character in some comic book/manga-type thing, it would have shown me with a bunch of z's, like this: "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..." after the movie finishes (which tallies as TWO movies i need to re-watch from this night), the three of us, half-asleep like lions after a carnivorous binge, drive rj back up to his house, and then back down to mine, because me and ant have a race the next morning.

end of part one (how very anti-climactic).

saturday morning, 6:00 am, my alarm clock keeps wailing at me, and i queue it to ring again every five minutes, but i never get up. the last time it rings, my brother is like, "shut that fucking shit off," minus the french. so i turn it off, and i start sleeping again. the next thing i know, there is another ringing noise, but the dissonance is coming from the telephone. my dad picks up, and then i pick up, and it turns out it is larry vo from the cross country bus. larry doesn't understand my morning fuckedupness, so he gives the phone to gabriel. gabe says the bus is leaving in one minute, which means i practically miss the boat, with what would have occupied my time until 4:30 pm that day. oh well - looks like my plans for the day are practically thrown out the window, so i fall back to asleep.

i wake up at about 11:30, and i watch some x-men evolution, eat some cold chicken garlic pizza, and read some out of harry potter: the goblet of fire. i get my wasl scores, which aren't too great, but at least i passed all sections. at around three o'clock, my dad leaves for work, so it is safe for me to just lie down and sleep, without daddio giving me some grief about my laziness, or about my brain "vegetating." i doze off, and stay a dead corpse until around seven o'clock, and i do absolutely nothing, besides reading elektra comics online, watching a big brother 3, and survivor: thailand. and then i am a dead corpse again.

speaking of thailand, my mom just bought me a can of red bull. it has a lot of thai symbolage and stuff, so i assume it is from thailand. plus my mom told me it is from there, and she knows everything, because mommy is the master of the universe, right? we're filipino.

end of part two (what a waste of time and space).

sunday rolls in, and my mom takes me to church at the 9:00 am mass, even though she is planning to go at noon as well, because that mass is in honor of my family, since the day of the car accident (which means i am such an ass, for not being there). i eat a mcdonalds' deluxe big breakfast, which is very bad for me, as is a lot of things, but tastes so "mmm mmm good." at 11:30, on the way to my family's actual mass, they drop me off at anthony's, because we're going to the puyallup fair. i see anthony, linda le, steven (linda le's nephew), and devin chilling in ant's basement. devin and me jump on the trampoline out in anthony's backyard, and then i get tired and walk back inside. a few others enter the game; kim, seth, brian, meuy (sp?), gabriel, and gabriel's friend, bryce (sp?), all for the great journey to puyallup. but uh-oh! there is too many of us, and not enough seats in our rides. after a long while of sulking and pondering what would be a waste of a sunday, gabe gets the idea of all of us going outside, to figure out the car-person thing. it turns out everything gets figured out, as anthony is allowed to use his dad's van, as long as he fills up the tank, so everything is cool.

i almost for got to include LINDA HOANG's name in the list of persons involved in today's fest, which would have been fuh-reakin' tragic, yo!

so after some odd minutes wrestling with little steven in the back of anthony's van, we arrive at puyallup, and enter the land of over-priced rides and food. we dinged and donged and super-flonged our way in and out of eating and riding and walking and seeing situations. linda and gabe ride the twirly thing that goes around and around and around in a vertical motion, and while linda looks like she is enjoying the moment, gabe looks like he is being sprayed in the face with sulfuric acid.

during our unfrutuitous search for some funnel cake, brian and i take a test, to see if we're going to heaven. it turns out to be a load of crap, and they only want us to read a prayer and some mess out of some pamplets, and the bible. it isn't even the passionate and crazy-daze infused evangelism, it's just some mild-mannered protestant and pre-destination shit.

MY PERSONAL HIGHLIGHT OF THE DAY: eating an "oreo collasal," which was a waffle ice-cream cone, filled with vanilla frozen yogurt, oreo crumblies, and whipped cream! YUM YUM YUM! four bucks, though. grrr.

we all ride the super-fast spinning thing, which spins and spins and spins in a horizontal motion, and pushes you against the inside walls of the diamond shaped ride. i would spit to see where it would fly, but i'm standing in between steven and linda, and neither of them deserve my nastyfied salivary amalase.

other stuff goes down. an occasional fly girl, with the bangin' walk and the glittery eyes, passes me by, but nothing serious. *sigh* i need a fuh-reakin' haircut, yo.

i see mr. pattenaude, and denisse from my london tribes cast, paula mori, ashley russell and lizzy williams. and that's about it.

we go home. on the way home, some girls in a car yell at us, which was sort of funny, because they looked like a car of whores. we dance to some jamiroquai, and i look really gay to cars that pass us by. we drop off linda le and steven, and then we go to anthony's house, where it all basically ends. i go home, and i write what you see here.

the end.

i absolutely tried to write everything in the previous writing in the present tense. it's so different from what i usually do, and so i may have failed to keep consistent with my tenses. so shoot me, yo!