October 21st

11:42 AM

CRAZY INSANE-ASS SHIT IS HAPPENING.

Do you think that would be hyphenated? Unfortunately, insane-ass doesn't show up as a word on this stupid spell check, and Google certainly did not enjoy my foul language.

But anyway, we decided to start a new trend—official "dress-down" day. Which was pretty easy for me... I never really dress up, but who cares.

BUT LISTEN:

Mac came in wearing JEANS.

JEANS. LOS JEANS. YANG JEANS. LES JEANS. DIE JEANS. O JEANS. FARMARIHOUSUJEN. BIR KOT PANTALON.

Or as Stella may say, το τζιν!!! Or she could say, I JEANS, because she's trilingual.

It's almost the same in every language... except for Finnish. And the one about pantalons. But regardless, MAC TAYLOR IN JEANS?

I had to go lie down. Những jeans! Plus Mac Taylor! Not even a calculator could make sense out of this.

After I cleared my head, I went back into the hall to find his office and ask him what the fuck was happening to the universe, when I caught sight of Flack.

FLACK WAS WEARING SWEAT PANTS.

AND SNEAKERS.

SNEAKADORAS.

He was in Mac's office (ahaha... Mac and Flack) and they were talking, looking suspiciously out of the corners of their eyes. I pushed the door open, my mouth still gaping. Mac. Jeans. Flack. Sweats. Sneakers.

"We didn't hire anyone new," Mac was saying, shifting his eyes creepily. "Are you sure?"

"Mac, she was walking away from me. A few inches shorter than Stella, pin straight hair. She didn't turn around but I've never seen anyone like that, ever, in here. She went into your office and took Stella's case file!"

"Flack, you're imagining things."

"Why would I be imagining things, Mac?!"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE WEARING SNEAKERS," I blurted loudly, and then covered my mouth. "Sorry."

Mac gave me The Look. I cowered.

"I'm sure it's someone we know, maybe she just looked different today."

The irony set in then.

"It's just dress-down day, how different can someone look, Mac?"

The door opened from behind me, and I turned around.

I'm pretty sure my chin hit the floor and I nearly passed out.

STELLA?!

She walked in, not making eye contact with anyone. She wasn't wearing heels—I think it was the first time I'd ever seen her without them—so she fell shorter than Mac. OH, ANOTHER THING—HER HAIR WAS STRAIGHTER THAN I AM.

Mac's eyes went wide, wider, widest. Flack was caught between a laugh and a scream of terror.

WHAT THE HELL

HTML was necessary to help captivate the oddity of this.

Stella picked up a file and walked out, oblivious to our fright. Nobody breathed.

Then, Flack: "What the hell?"

I decided I needed to get out of there then. Stella in flats with straight hair? Mac în blugi, Flack NOT in a suit? Things were going to start imploding and I needed to get out of there before everything turned into a giant black hole and sucked reality away.

I became frightened when I had to question whether or not Sid would even wear clothes.

So now I'm hiding out in my office (which still smells like a bakery exploded), watching as Hawkes goes back and forth wearing a tee shirt and khaki shorts.

The world is ending.

12:07 PM

Okay, so I translated "the jeans" into Hungarian on the nifty translator, and it came out as "A farmer." What the hell's up with that?

Tomorrow I'll walk in: "Hey Mac, I'm wearing a farmer."

When Adam walks by, I'll tell him I like his farmer.

12:30 PM

In Maltese (which I thought was a dog, NOT a language) it says l-jeans. There's those damn hyphens again.

12:32 PM

Do you think you can major in the art of hyphenating words and phrases?

I definitely would.

12:44 PM

Okay, so Adam definitely didn't get the farmer thing.

"What farmer?"

"It's 'the jeans' in Hungarian."

"...that doesn't make sense," he responded. "You understand that, right?"

"Um..."

"Jeans can mean different things in different locations and cultures. Here, they're a type of denim pant, but in, say, Hungary, they may be a farmer. Therefore, the translation tells you this."

SIIIIGH.

"Yes, but we're not in Hungaria. If a Hungarian chick walks up to you and says, 'Aaalllo,'" I created an accent, "'I aaaam wearing sommmma theeeese denim jeeeaansssss,' it means pants here. In her land it might mean a farmer."

"If a Hungarian chick walks up to me and talks to me, I'm not gonna care what she's wearing."

didn't exactly comprehend the meaning of this this, so I just shouted, "ADAM, STOP COMING ON TO ME, GOD," and ran the hell outta there.

1:09 PM

STELLA JUST SPOKE TO ME.

Her hair was so... shiny, it was insane. It kept getting caught in the light and like, reflecting shit. I thought I could see my own face in it, so I started making goofy gestures and she was getting all pissy about that.

"DANNY," she breathed angrily. "You may THINK the case from yesterday is shut, but we still have evidence to process. Are you listening to me speak?"

"I'M SORRY, STELLA, BUT YOU REALLY CANNOT DO INTERESTING SHIT WITH YOUR HAIR AND EXPECT ME TO BE ABLE TO CONVERSE INTELLIGENTLY WITH YOU. WITHOUT WARNING YOU COME IN WITH THIS CRAZY SHIT GOING ON WITH YOUR HAIR AND IF YOU EXPECT US TO JUST RIDE IT OUT, YOU HAVE DEFINITELY GOT ANOTHER THING COMING. AND ALSO, YOUR ROOTS LOOK LOVELY AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GOT SPLIT ENDS, WHAT DID YOU PUT IN YOUR HAIR TO MAKE IT NOT FRIZZ UP? IT SEEMS TO BE DRIZZLING A BIT TODAY," I finished in a loud voice.

From down the hall somewhere, Adam shouted, "CUPCAKE!"

There was silence after that, a lot of it. Mostly awkward, too.

"Danny?"

"YES."

"... Danny."

"Oh, sorry. Yes?"

"Go lie down."

So I did. Again. Except, this laptop isn't balancing on my knees correctly so I'm half on the couch, half slanted to the floor where it's sitting.

2:28 PM

This place is SO FUCKING BORING when no one's dead, seriously. Stella officially closed the case—she and Mac lovingly bitched out the guy who killed the other guy's nephew-in-law, all the while flirting up a fucking hurricane—while Hawkes, Lindsay, Flack, Adam and I tried to arrange a quiet game of Apples to Apples.

Which is, of course, the best game ever to exist. Ever.

We made two of our own new noun cards—one said MAC!!! in huge letters, the other said Stella's hair in smaller, less hilarious letters.

Of course, first round, the adjective is "senseless" and Hawkes instantly plays the Helen Keller card. We laughed for about fifteen minutes. The last time we played, I used Helen Keller with "touchy feely" and it was funnier... at least to me.

Somewhere, "old and cranky" came up and Flack put down MAC!!! and we laughed again.

"Armed and dangerous"? Stella's hair.

So, so many more good times, but there's not enough time to list them all. The only thing we learned is that Lindsay absolutely sucks at this game, because she actually put down logical shit. "Sad" came up and she put Challenger Explosion down (which should only be reserved for extremely funny cases!!!) and was angry when "Rosie O'Donnell" won.

Sigh. Stella wants to go out to dinner later, so I guess I should go pick out some nice clothes. I'll give you the 411 about what goes down tomorrow.

The Apples to Apples thing, yes, is random, but it's my favorite game of all time so suck on that.

I have so much fun writing this. I'm sorry if you dont' think its funny, cause I really do XD

btw; anybody else absolutely hate fanfic's weird stint of sucking? cause i did.