It is precisely 3:07 on a Saturday morning over here. It seems that over the holidays, I have miraculously metamorphosized (is there such a word?) from an early sleeper at 10 pm to a very nocturnal and very much hungry teenager.
I sleep in the day; I’m practically a vampire or something! And I am not proud of it. I’m missing a lot of meals waking up at 3 in the afternoon! I’m barely cutting it close for what the English call ‘high-tea’. No wonder I’m so famished at 2 am.
But I am not alone in my nocturnalism (again, is there such a word?). Ever since the holidays, everyone’s been pretty much asleep during daylight hours and wide awake without the aid of caffeine after hours. Gee. We teenagers are mutating, aren’t we? Sooner or later, we’d get nightvision. Or like, the ability to conjure food out of absolutely nothing to satiate our midnight thirst for Cheetos and beef jerky. That’d be radical. Tee-hee!
Speaking of holidays, these emergency holidays are starting to bore me out of my cranium. Swine flu hasn’t hit me but it’s killing me alright. I sort of miss school now. Sort of. I mean, I still despise laborious homework, certain teachers, impossible-to-flush-at-all toilets and crappy cafeteria food but I do miss seeing my friends everyday, somewhat fun practicals in the lab, lunches at the nearby cafe, spying on Sexgod with Richelle and just plain hanging out with my mates at the multipurpose basketball court (it’s used as a football field, basketball court, parking lot, hang-out-place-during-recess and several other pointless-to-mention uses).
H1N1 is gay. Stop taking lives for Pete’s sake! Sheesh. What if we NEVER go back to school?! What if everyone mutates into zombies and I’d have to kill my bestfriend by knocking her head off with a lamp?! Zombie Town. That sounds cool—wait! No! Not cool! It’s like premature Armageddon! What the hell is going on?! First Michael Jackson dies, and now this place gets infested with zombies! Sheesh. Some people must really dislike me. I sense FaceBook worshippers. Tee-hee! (Alright, NigaHiga overdose.)
So anyways, we have a gig at Sheraton Hotel this Sunday, should be good. I heard the food is AWESOME. At least, that’s what everyone says. Maybe it’s all just a ruse to get me to play. No, that wouldn’t make any sense. I would still play, regardless the food standard. MEHHHH.
We had band practice a few hours ago, and due to stinkin’ H1N1, we had to wear these insane facemasks. We look absolutely ridiculous as the masks resemble Donald Duck’s beak. Sheesh. (Alright, Josh Osman-Wolfe overdose) I gotta remember to take a photo. It’s so hard to communicate under these hideous things! But it’s cool and it freaks people out when you walk into a grocery store with one on your face, right Joseph? You can practically rob a bank with one. Wicked cool.
A pretty fun thing I did today was ride home with Neel after band. The guy drives like a maniac! I swear, I could’ve died today. Not cool. But wicked fun.
“Dude, drive properly!”
“What, like this? [takes hands off steering wheel]”
“Holy mother of—PUT YOUR HANDS BACK ON THE WHEEL!!”
*
“If you’re planning on having an accident, please, as long as I’m not in it, we’re cool.”
*
“Okay, okay, I’ll drive properly woman. [takes his eyes off the road and starts facing me, talking]”
“DUDE, PLEASE!!!! EYES ON THE ROAD!”
*
“Look, Michael Jackson just died! If I die, the world can’t take losing another legend!”
*
“Hey, if you and I die, T. Honey’s gonna kill us.”
“But we’re DEAD.”
“FIGURE OF SPEECH, WATCH THE ROAD!”
He missed my house too. And when we took the U-turn to get around, we missed the nearest one. Hahaha. Still, riding with Neel, wicked fun. I should get him to drive me everywhere now. Ah, friends with benefits in another, less cunt-ey meaning eh? Good times, good times indeed.
Anyways, I’ve got to get to bed. (Wait, I am in bed. The laptop’s on my knees and I’m pretty much freezing here.) It’s 4:29. Wow, I take ages to write. Probably because Joseph distracts me on MSN every 2 minutes. I am not complaining, however. Tee-hee! I need to sleep, band at 2 in the afternoon later and mum told me to wake up for breakfast, she doesn’t care, as long as I wake up for breakfast, I can crawl back into bed after.
Parents and breakfast. I’ll never know. Until I become a parent, that is, and start fretting over my teen being too thin (ONLY BECAUSE OF HER ABNORMALLY HIGH METABOLISMIC RATE, SHEEH, I’M NOT ANOREXIC FOR PETE’S SAKE) and forcing her to get up for breakfast at 8 am during the HOLIDAYS. Sigh, as if my child didn’t need any more early mornings. Who knows, if I’m lucky, my kid would be a morning person, as greatly opposed to her mom.
Okay, seriously. It’s a bit too early to be talking about parenthood, I haven’t even finished my high school education! Stupid H1N1. Too early for that, too late for bed.
Good morning zombies.