Yes, your butt looks big in that.

Wake up in the morning feelin' like... going back to sleep. Ke$ha, why do you know how P. Diddy feels like when he wakes up in the morning? How do you feel like that in the first place? Also, I don't know how to pronounce the dollar sign in your name (Ke-kaching-sha?) I wake up in the morning wishing fervently that a)it will snow and we will not have school b)the world will come to an end and we will not have school and c)I have contracted some rare disease that prevents me from going to school but not from using Facebook until my eyes shrivel up and drop out of their sockets. Okay, ew. That sounded good in my head but the mental image is quite disturbing. Great. Another thing to be paranoid about. Move over, strange irrational fear that head will fall off if not held in place. Does anyone else worry about that? Anyone?

That's what I look like in my head. Yes, I need help. In my defence, it's five in the morning.

Hey y'all how's it going? Last test today! 

 That's why I'm slavering in the picture above. Not that above, above-above. Jeez, are you blind? The picture of the thing with hair like Ke$ha's after she wakes up in the bathtub again. Oh, wait. Both the pictures look like that. It looks like bad slavering, like oh-look-a-tasty-village-girl slavering, but it's actually slavering of the purest, noblest kind. End-of-exams slavering. To celebrate that we have survived five weeks of ISC, and to acknowledge that we will be dead when the results come out and hence should have fun while we can, everyone's going to watch Batman! I'm excited. I was trying to decide what to wear. My shorts are ripped, which doesn't seem appropriate, but my skirt's in the laundry and I do not want to wear jeggings. By the way, a pair of jeggings was one of the things I swore I would only buy when all hell froze over, but I was too weak to resist the ultra-clinginess and smooth perfection of the fabric. Once again, ladies and the rest, it has been conclusively proven that Joanna Koshy has no principles. Yeah, I think I'll wear jeggings.

Did I mention before that it's mainly guys in ISC Science? I've realized lately that I interact better with them than the scarce population of girls in my class. It's not like I can't talk to the girls, it's just that to most of them I have no clue what to say. They're standing in the corners talking about this one's hair, and Justin Bieber, and Twilight, and I'm all like "How about them hair-straighteners, am I right ladies?" because that's the only topic we share a common interest in. (My hair is naturally straight, by the way. I don't know why I want a hair straightener, except that my Mom said I can't have one. Reverse psychology is a fearful and wonderful thing.)

I've been thinking about ways to improve the situation and, a result of much study and thought, I give you:

Five Things Not To Say To Girls:

1. How about them hair-straighteners, am I right ladies?

2.  You and your boyfriend are so cute together! In the dark.

3. Real vampires don't sparkle and Edward Cullen is cheating on Bella with Jacob.

4. I like you because of your beautiful soul. (Girls hate it when people say this. Apparently only ugly people have beautiful souls.)

5. So, which of your parents is a raccoon? 

The list was originally going to be ten evil comments long, but it took time to draw a picture so I cut it down to five. Once again I give you neither quality nor quantity. Um, look, a follow button?

You Lift Me Up

"Only after the last tree has been cut down, only when the last river has been poisoned, only when the last fish has been killed, will we realize that money cannot be eaten."

Hey y'all how's it going? Being in science does things to a person. Lately, I've been trying to condense everything down to formulae, from crappiness of Mondays in comparison to every other day to the amount of joy generated by hearing a favourite song on the radio while being driven to school. The other day during Math, my forward diagonal neighbour and my directly behind neighbour both didn't have textbooks, and since Rose and I have two together, they each asked if they could borrow one. I then tried to  work out a quick neighbourliness formula to figure out who had a bigger claim. The factors of the formula included the square of physical closeness, number of years we had known each other, gender, and also physical size, for obvious reasons. It didn't work, mainly because I realized you can't factorize and simplify personality (sadly a major factor) down to physical units. When science didn't answer, I told them to battle to the death and the winner could use the textbook. They both gave me Looks then asked somebody else. Um, problem solved? 

Eleven Ways To Annoy People In Elevators:
1. Push every single button there is several times. When people ask you why you're doing it, say in as calm a voice as possible, "The voices told me to."
2. When there's only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder and then pretend it wasn't you.
3. Have a loud phone conversation with your friend detailing your extremely nasty, highly contagious, rare African disease. Then sneeze on everyone possible.
4. (Only works if you haven't tried 1.) Ask the person coming in which floor they want and then push every button except that one.
5. Authoritatively announce a group hug and then enforce it.
6. Remember the 'Map Song' from Dora the Explorer? Sing it. Without ceasing. Spend the rest of your day rejoicing that several hapless people will have it stuck in their heads for hours. (By the way, I hate Dora the Explorer. I spent the whole of my childhood wishing that someone would get her a GPS. Also, whenever Dora told us to say "Swiper, no swiping!", I used to yell out, "Take it and run, Swiper! Take. It. And. Run."
7. Tell everyone in the elevator again and again that someone needs to get the dude who wrote "Payphone" a cell. This is especially entertaining if teenage girls are present. They start foaming at the mouth and gnawing on their Justin Bieber merchandise. (Payphone is actually a decent song. I like it, except for the swearing.)
8. Open your purse/backpack occasionally and ask "Got enough air in there?"
9. Leave a backpack in the corner of the elevator and then ask everyone if they hear ticking.
10. Stick your ear to the wall of the elevator and then listen intently, nodding at intervals. If anyone asks you what you're doing, glare at them and tell them you're having a private conversation, thank you very much.
11. Bring a harmonica along. (Also applies to bagpipes and/or the violin).

There you have it. Eleven ways to ensure brief and intense personal gratification as well as permanent social estrangement. School is still good-like, but also hard-like and occasionally extremely frustrating-like. We have one power-crazed teacher whose depraved soul knows neither joy nor compassion, but derives pleasure only from the suffering of others. Here are a few of the things we're not allowed to do in his period.

1. Cross our legs.

2. Sit next to a member of the opposite sex (because otherwise we might fornicate in the middle of the classroom.)

3. Smile (unless the smile is polite and at a joke made by the teacher.)

Fortunately, he's good at explaining things and actual teaching so it's not all bad. Bangalore's lovely right now: it's cold and the sky is gray and pearly. Speaking of the sky, does anyone know what the hawks up there eat? I can see at least one of them wherever I look up in the city, but I've never observed them do anything other than swoop around and look gorgeous. Do they carry off the occasional cow, or toddler or something? Either way I love them. The only reason I tolerate the five flights of stairs that lead up to my current classroom is because it's right at the top of the school building, so when you stand on the balcony outside you can watch them gliding and diving and wheeling just a few feet away. The hawks are my brothers and sisters and second-cousins twice removed.

Also, thank you very much for all the comments. I don't reply to them because if I did I would spend ages agonizing over whether my reply was witty or funny enough, but they are to this blog what ridiculously overpriced fuel is to vehicles. Your comments keep me going. Vielen dank. Also, in response to one of them (thanks Minima!), to follow my blog all you have to do is click on the Join This Site button, which is on the right side of the page and follow the instructions. It's not that hard! Honest! I'll post illustrated instructions soon, if that'll help.

LOOK A FOLLOW BUTTON!!! (ref. a few lines above)