Yesterday, Lampl invited us over to hang out, even though they're leaving for Florida today. After a while, we all started thinking, "hmm, they're leaving tomorrow . . . and they want us to come over tonight . . . and the truck isn't packed yet . . . why?" and YES, it turned out they wanted to have a packing party only NOT REALLY because it was more like a drag-things-down-three-flights-of-stairs party but it's OK because we love Lampl and Jon and OMG do you see how long this sentence is? My English teachers are rolling over in their graves. You know, if they were all dead. TO MY KNOWLEDGE, they are all living. For now.
Speaking of English teachers (sure, why not), I had like THE BESTEST English teachers in high school. Well. Until senior year. I will get to that in a second. Actually, my freshman year English teacher was kind of meh, but she had Farrah Fawcett hair so that was cool. Anyway, sophomore year, my teacher was totally obsessed with Prince so we did this whole unit (heh, unit) based on a Prince song I'd never heard of, called Starfish and Coffee. I'm not sure what this song had to do with any of the stuff she made us do, but whatever. This stuff included: drawing a picture that represented something we struggled with, doing some activity where she'd say something like, "I am female" and then all the girls would walk to one side of the room, playing a song for everyone that meant something to us, and salsa dancing. Yes, salsa dancing.
So even though she was totally weird, she was also awesome and way better than the teacher I had senior year, who totally resembled Frau Farbissina. She didn't just look like her, though, she was also prone to randomly yelling the last word of a sentence FOR NO RAISIN other than she was a huge bitch. Ahem. She didn't like me, which is ridiculous because ALL of my teachers liked me. I always did my homework and paid attention and never, ever disrupted class. I was a teacher's wet dream. But she didn't like me and even once told me I had too much imagination. Probably because she was a huge bitch. At the end of the year, we all had to write essays for our Career Passports to be included in the folder that held our diploma. The topic for one was something about what your Plans A and B were for career choices and I said my Plan A was to become a Book Jacket Summary Writer and my Plan B was to become a Bungee Cord Tester. I think we also had to write something about how we'd afford our dreams (gag) and I wrote that I'd follow celebrities around until they did something embarrassing and then blackmail them. Frau English Teacher did not like my essays. Not even a little. She told me she was going to give me an F if I didn't rewrite them and I was all, "give me the F, I DON'T EVEN CARE A LITTLE," even though getting an F on something I'd written made me die a little inside. So she gave me an F BECAUSE SHE WAS A HUGE BITCH and that's why I got a B in English that semester.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right. Lampl's. It's Lampl's fault that I had to go to Target and spend money at lunch, because last night I left my black hoodie at her apartment and she told me she packed it and is holding it hostage. The only way I can get it back is to go visit them in Florida. OH DARN, NOT FLORIDA! Did I just say "darn?" Right. So. I had to go to Target and get a hoodie replacement because right now that's cheaper than a trip to Florida.