No Extreme Temperatures for You!

wow. theyve updated blogger. its pretty cool. its also 330ish and im awake. so much for fixing my sleeping pattern. ill be okay by the time school starts up again though.
 
about the title, my house does not believe in extreme temperatures aparently, as this summer so far the air conditioner has broken and been fixed, and the ice maker and the water heater are broken. you hear me? the water heater. i. need. a SHOWER. they fix it tomorrow. *looks at time* today i guess, technically. let them come soon.
 
eileen and i were last night discussing what boys think girls do at sleepovers. so we took what we were doing and added what we knew boys would be doing if they were having a sleepover. here follows the amusing result.
 
*Justin's house. Brian, Chris, Devin and Justin sit in circle, eating pizza on the floor.*
 
Brian: We should have a pillow fight, in the manner of little girls. Y'know Sara and Eileen are having a sleepover, I bet they're fighting in their panties right now. 
Justin: I think, generally, that's all girls do at sleepovers…pillow fights. (Justin moves uncomfortably as other guys give him "You're ignorant" looks.) 
Brian: You have no idea. 
Devin: Yeah, but I bet they're only pillow fighting now. It's still early. 
Chris: Wot kinda panties do ya think they're wearing? (laughs)
 
*Sara's House, Eileen and Sara sit on bed--Eileen writes and Sara reads a school book. They are both fully clothed.*
 
Sara: Have you ever had boiled cabbage? 
Eileen: Yes, it's quite good. 
Sara: y'remember that stuff we had in HuntHistory…did that have boiled cabbage in it? 
Eileen: Yeh, I think. That stuff was good. And therefore boiled cabbage. 
Sara: Your logic sucks man. 
Eileen: Yeah…. 
*Eileen proceeds writing and Sara proceeds reading.*
 
THE END (but not really)
 
yes. we ARE wonderful indeed. i have discovered color. what i was reading was count of monte cristo. the first summer reading book in AGES i havent hated. yay for me and my chapter 17 of 73. i, personally, think i am doing well reading it. what eileen was writing was a fic for me in the good notebook (ie the one from kathryn, hardcover and GORGEOUS, i love it). it is, by far, the saddest fic i have read to date. sadder even than the black river fic, sadder even than ~Alone~, a work of eileens in which i die. and no one dies. it is amazing. stupendous. i am lit up by it. and i only cried the first... three times i read it. and that pen elicits neatness.
 
for dinner it was lemon pepper chicken. in a word, weird. i am unused to strange chicken. i ate a little though, and salad and bread. why am i telling you this? you dont care. ill tell you about the fez party.
 
there was not a lot of fez actually, just watching of party monster. good flick, too many drugs though. morgan, eileen, and amelia went to bed relatively early in perspective, while lane, dunkan and i stayed up until 9AM. we did keanu reeves impressions for five hours because when youre that tired, everythings funny. lane does the best keanu reeves voice ive yet heard. "I am keanu dracula! ...wait. no... COUNT dracula." *dies laughing* you had to be there. then we invented pelvis rockets, which are very fun, but only if you are very comfortable in your sexuality and dont mind taking the risk of people rolling onto your face. we looked at pictures of beautiful people and lane insists i send her all of them. there are no good pictures of dutchy or slightly on the internet, and look, only one of them is a newsie. we ate popcorn with our toes. dunkan took home her hoodie and notebook but left her comb, gel, and chopstick. amelia left at 8, unable to sleep soundly and not feeling well, poor girl.
 
hattie was online today. you hear me? HATTIE. i am amazed. i am happy. i love hattie. we are dating. but not like that. you dike. i love that word, dike. dike. dike. i leave you with this:
 
COLLINS: angel dumott schunard will now model the latest fall fashions from Paris, while accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub
ANGEL: and collins will recount his exploits as an anarchist, including the successful reprogramming of the MIT virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcast the words: "ACTUAL REALITY--ACT UP--FIGHT AIDS!"