kyrasantae | "Time flies when you're at Lister" (Reply)

[The companion post to this]

forgottenlord's Quote of the Day
Me: Too bad there's no day of the week starting with 'L.'
Forgottenlord: Why?
Me: There needs to be some alliteration going. 'Lister Tuesday' just doesn't sound cool.

I baked cookies with Steph last night, and watched the first three episodes of Chappelle's Show, season one. Frickin' hilarious. Had voice convo over MSN with

forgottenlord until 3am. Slept around 3:30 (?). The cookies were for choir bake sale this morning. (We have a bake sale every time there is a full rehearsal, and the section that bakes rotates.)

I didn't wake up until 10:25. Crap. I remember getting up to turn off my alarm clock. I grab my music and the cookies and head off, only to realize, walking in (really) late, on the one rehearsal that we have a guest director, isn't exactly great for my reputation.

After rehearsal I got the script to the choir's annual murder mystery play. I get to play the detective, which means I have no lines in the body of the script, but I get an exclusive part that only the director and I get to know about (since the actors don't get to find out who the murderer is until the audience does). It also means I get to do the narration for the scene-setting and at the end. It's hilarious, in weird sorts of ways.

Anyway, while heading upstairs to grab my books after getting groceries with

forgottenlord, I give him my trademark friendly tap on the head - which set off a chain of strange reactions, which I'll describe later.

(I just realized that line with the "I'll describe this later" is very much a characteristic of

forgottenlord's LJ writing style, not mine.)

So, knife equipped, I bumbled into Lister (again...damn, on a flugging weekend too!), at which time the elevator decided to be possessed and:

not open or close its doors properly on ground floor (forgottenlord had to push the doors shut to get the elevator going), and,
with a worrisome mechanical grunt, drop us off on 9 Mac instead of 6 Mac, so we had to take the stairs back down.

At this point the floor is rather quiet, and it would be until much later, when kids started coming back from parties.

Ah, about the chain reaction: once we got into his room, he promptly tried to get revenge for my friendly tap on the head by hitting me with his toque. This later escalated into spontaneous sparring matches with him and his toque versus me and my hands throughout the evening, which really accentuated the fact that my reflexes are, normally, a quarter second too slow. Besides... I hated sparring so I never practiced it back when I learned kung fu. And then for a few minutes it turned into dodgeball with his toque.

Honestly I had some intention to work on my homework while I was here, but drawing was kind of distracting me. I started this drawing while I was waiting for my script to be printed, and, well, I like drawing.

But seriously, the only cooking that making hot dogs entails is boiling weiners. So there. Heating up buns and assembling hot dogs is technically not "cooking."

His friends are weird. They seriously think there's something going on between us. Sure, I'll admit that there is, but not that kind of thing going on. Alright? Now contrary to what he says in his LJ I never explicitly stated that I will definitely go home before I go to sleep but logically that makes sense because:

I mean, I wouldn't mind staying the night (again, not that way!) but I really would feel uncomfortable if people really thought there was something really going on (which would be false - mostly....*cough*ithinkiamhidingsomethingmaybe?*cough*),
I'd need to take my contacts out and get changed (I can't sleep in these clothes - too uncomfortable), and
besides, there's some stuff I'm expecting from friends tomorrow and
forgottenlord needs to be up early tomorrow but it's my only sleep-in day in the week (I think I didn't have a night of more than four hours of sleep during this school week - last night doesn't count).

Quiz:
"Help me carve the path through the darkness, lord of forests!" (Diary entry last night - for the last few nights my diary has been completely incoherent due to extreme fatigue)

Who is the "lord of forests?"
Where the hell did that description come from?

Okay, now the drunks are getting a bit loud out there.

Edit: Looks like my roommate has been drinking too - I see the shot glasses and rum out on the table. *sigh* When will this madness end?