August 21

Have you ever woke up and said to yourself,"Today is going to be a good day, I can tell." But then, you fall in a crowded hallway of students in between 1st and 2nd block, embarrassing not only yourself, but those you call your friends? But NO, today is going to be a good day! NOTHING CAN GET MY DOWN! But then, you get hit in the back of the head by a trombone slide. NO NO NO, still..I AM GOING TO HAVE A GOOD DAY IF IT KILLS ME! But then, you fail a Geometry quiz, dropping your grade just one step lower. Well, this has been my first two weeks as a sophomore in high school.

Yes, I can admit that I have a touch of bad luck...or...maybe a lot..but I'm not counting...because I honestly can't count that high (because my "touch" of bad luck times has reached....mumbles incoherently). Wait...where was I...ah yes, band. Where I just got band from bad luck, I don't know, but I know it fits somewhere. Anyway, band, in my opinion, is quite idiotic. Why am I still in it after my freshman year? Well, because it was fun LAST YEAR...but no longer is it fun. You see, now..we have like 5 seniors and a whole bunch of sophomores. So, we're quite the young band now, and William's (the oh-so awesome, not really band director) takes advantage of the fact that we're young and stupid...and scared of his sweat bucket self. Last year, we got to go to Tampa and compete in the Outback Bowl competition..and guess what...we won! It was awesome..we got to play our show in front of a whole bunch of people for the pre-show at the outback bowl. So..what have you learned so far? Ah yes, that last year was fun are the oprative words for this story so far.

Now, as we get into our Sailor songs consisting of Pirates of the Caribean, some stupid song I don't like and I have to be in an ensemble for it, and Russian Sailor's Dance, which is actually a cool song....if you're in a Russian Derbish. I play the flugelhorn, and if you don't know what that is...go to Germany, I'm sure they'll tell you. I'm in the horn section, or the french horns..or the mello's...whatever the crap you want to call it..Last year, here we go with last year again, I played the trumpet...it was great...my section was quite large, and getting into trouble was a lot more fun. Now..I'm in a section consisting of 6 people and a cracked up section leader...with two girls who talk more than Kelly Rippa has babies and three other guys who one, doesn't know how to play a single note whose name is Jordan, two, and this is a fun one, I honestly think he's a weeder..(potsmoker..big mary j..ya know what i mean) whose name is Hunter, and three..the cracked up section leader named Hodges..(this is his last name..his first name doesn't fit him).

The two girls are Hannah and Becky...one's the happiest person you'll ever meet..one's a big dork, whom I find myself very good friends with.

Why didn't I play the flute? Or..perhaps the drums? Why the trumpet..then being switched the flugelhorn..? WHY Sweat Bucket..WHY. You'll find I call my band director, William's, Sweat Bucket because he sweats even when I had concert band..it's quite unnatural..I don't understand how one person sweats that much. Lynsey and Lindsay, who also play trumpet..and it's quite hard getting used to saying they're names, call him Mr. Tastey because supposedly I booty bumped him at the band dance last year...actually, Sweaty McGee is the one that attacked me...but they didn't see it MY way.

"Michelle, you know you love Mr. Tastey and ya'lls boody bumpin' days," said Lynsey.

Damn Sweats A-Lot...he ruined my perfect dancing way of life.

Lynsey also says I have crush on Homer Hickam...I also say she's a pathelogical liar. Maybe I'll tell you the story she wrote for me and Homey (as she calls him), but that's just a maybe. Anyway, so yesterday was great because we didn't have to march...it was raining and..uh..stuff. I was surprised Sweatsy-is-a-pansy didn't make us a march anyway..I mean..at band camp, he made us have sectionals outside while it was hailing..why not a little rain? It was fun though cuz Hodges started dancing during one of the stand songs...it may have been Blasters for the Masters..I don't really know. But I laughed and we both got into trouble.

I went to Rachels house last night. Rachel's pretty cool..she just moved here from Birmingham. She says how much better her band is than ours...it's probably true...why a band that wins an outback bowl competition would be any good is beyond me. We spent half the night talking about music and books..which is two of my most favorite things. She gives me these awesome books to read and good music to download. Later we just talked about band memories...it was eventful..cuz I never really laugh THAT much. Ah well, that is all I have to talk about right at the moment. Oh yeah, my other friend..I guess we're friends..Camille is a drummer, but she keeps going from drums to pit...maybe she'll work her way to the flute section by Monday.

The Tale of Homey and Michelle

by Lynsey & Camille

It was a cold and windy day when I first met my beloved Michelle. Sigh Sweet memories. We were both in Etheopia to compete in the science fair of 1920. I was positive she was joking when she told me her project was using an East Bake Oven to power a nuclear plant. Alas, she was serious. She has the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, they reminded me of Richard Simmons in his video "Sweatin to the Oldies". She had a cute laugh as well. It reminded me of a diesal truck starting up. I wanted to run at her and yell,"Breaker Breaker 1-9-10/4 goody buddy!" Ironically, I did yell it and she was now looking at me. I quickly responded that it was my dog's name, and ensisted her to help me look for him. She said (in the cutest fluffly voice),

"I had a gerbal named Suzie once."

What a girl! If my heart had been a baked potato, I would have served it to her with sour cream and butter....and chives! We searched for hours for my dog. 3 1/2 hours into it, I told her I didn't REALLY have a dog, but she was determined to find my lost puppy and insisted that we continue the search. Finally, I got so sick of looking that I convinced my poor Michelle to go looking the woods. While she was looking, I snuck into a yard and took a random dog-Hey, I was desperate-besides, the dog LOOKED unhappy anyway. Shortly, we returned to the fair, only to see that we had missed it. She was angry and threw her shoe at me...But I know deep down inside she didn't really want to be mad....really...deep down that is...Somewhere..I guess. Because, you see, I love her way too much for her to be upset. This one time, she went to Huntsville-(talk about your romantic experience!)-there were all sorts of space creatures and stuff (I would have called her, but I have aphonaphobia)..Very serious. So we got together and had some ham sandwhiches and the rest is history! That, ladies and gents, it the story of my Michelle and I. In conclusion...I look good in red...and Michelle...just looks good.

So that is my warped friends story of my "so-called" crush on Homer Hickam. I've come up with two things...Lynsey is a lesbian trying to tell me something, or she seriously is a pathelogical liar.