Yes, it's been an eon since I last updated. Commence waving signs and yelling "Huelga! Huelga!" at the top of your lungs.
(Holy crap, it's some blond girl on the Enterprise. I mean, at a window. Singing. To some birds. Aforementioned crazy sailor dudeman is standing somewhere below the window.)
Johanna: My life is depressing…my life is depressing…
Anthony: Oh, backtwigglers. I think I'm in love, even though I've never talked to this girl in my life, and I don't even know her name.
Johanna: (falls out window onto some kind of crazy old her mom)
Crazy Old Her Mom: Give me money. (suddenly pulling out a feather boa and waving it frantically in the air) Wingardium Leviosa!
(Johanna flies back through her window and lands upside-down on her bed, much to the delight of Snape, who has been watching this whole time.)
Snape: Oooooh…aaaaaah... (has a pedophile seizure)
Some Old Guy: That's unnatural!
Some Mormon Guy: Uh…no it's not.
Iscrit: Oops, I'm making religious stereotypes again. I'm probably not sorry.
Anthony: (proceeds to starve self until he sees Johanna again, singing the entire time)
I'm in love…..yay! HoooooooooooRAY!!!! HOOOOOOOOOORAY!!!!!
I don't know your NAAAAAAAAME!
(windows break, and Johanna's curtains proceed to die slowly, giving Anthony a good view of her Requiem-ing over the curtains.)
Johanna: You curtains were my only friends…Oooh! Sexy blond sailor boy! Sorry, curtains, I'm suddenly preoccupied.
Snape: I suspect absolutely nothing.
Wormtail: Oh good. It's my turn to be perceptive. That never happens.
(Snape walks outside to attempt to go all Trent on that sexy blond sailor boy who's conveniently standing outside his lair.)
Crazy Old Her Mom: Augh! The memories! (runs back to the sea from whence she came)
Snape: Yeah, you run away. So…sexy blond sailor boy, let's go get slightly less appropriate than polite society will condone!
Anthony: I am so innocent that I don't know what you're talking about.
Snape: Okay, then I'll get Wormtail to slightly kill you with my dirty books instead!
(Wormtail proceeds to do so. Anthony faints like a girl with even less gumption than usual.)
Russell Baker's Mom: Get you gumption up and sell them newspapers, Anthony Anthony Baker! It's Sunday night already!
Students in Mrs. Fennel's Seventh Grade English Class: Irony…that can cut like a knife…
Trent: I must have her…to WIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!!!!!(gets kicked off the planet by the rest of the world)
Students in Mrs. Fennel's Seventh Grade English Class (and the entire population of Los Angeles): Yaaaay!
Iscrit: Let's stop now before Trent comes back and ruins my morale even more.