Monday blues, bluer than usual
Ahh, a day of misbegotten misquotations -- XT professes to be kind of deaf, which will be how she manages to mangle what I say quite so much -- how to start? Let's see.
Misquotation: my mum is a cookie. (v.o. my mum is cooking.)
Misquotation: gaseous sulfuric acid... turns you into a pencilcase??? (v.o. -- burns your lungs away.) --> and yes it does, so. In large quantities.
NOT Misquotation (shouted from second floor gallery across the MJ parade ground in full voice):
I CAN'T GET DOWN! SOME BASTARD'S LOCKED THE DOOR BEHIND ME!
You can tell I was just a wee bit excited at that point in time because it wasn't a door, it was a bloody misbegotten gate. And by then it was dark and I was tired and my clothes were stinking to high hell. So you get the picture -- but let's really start from the beginning, this time.
We were playing inter-class soccer. We hadn't trained, we hadn't prepared (I actually thought it was training, not the real thing itself! Nadira the House Captain disabused me rather quickly of the notion just before the match started, which was lucky I guess), and in any case we lost all three matches we played, royally. In any case, thanks to bad school planning and the usual shit, there were no lockers in sight of the first level in that whole misbegotten field, and XT, a friend called RAYE <--(new character!) and I wandered up to the second floor to deposit our valuables safely in my strongbox before the first match started. The matches lasted until about eight oclock, and it was universally agreed upon that Phobos had lost, royally, but definitely with flair. One cannot be in a team with so much intentionally girly screaming (it was hoped that it would disorient the enemy) without really enjoying it. But I cannot resist telling this one little story.
The first team we fought -- I mention not the house -- were completely obsessed with winning. We thought they were rather assholes, an impression which will probably not last because history is written by the victors, and we lost. In any case, our wonderful goalie was performing her usual dancer kick to restart the game and the ball flew predictably through the air; a tackler from the other team ducked unpredictably in and tried to do a header. It was an awful header. The ball went right smack into her face and knocked a plastic lens off her glasses. Cue collective gasp of shock from everyone on the field as the girl stumbles and clutches at her face.
'PENALTY!' she hollers.
Ah well. You can't expect much from Science people.
Other memorable bits include 'Baya trying to bounce the ball off her bum in the heat of the otherwise typical scuffle just in front of a goal, which I think I will not expound upon here. In any case, the 'tournament' ended at around eight. To our dismay the whole school had been locked up by then -- including all the routes from the field to the second floor where my locker was.
After a lot of running around in a lame attempt to find alternative routes and realising there were none, I gave up and hopped over two sets of railings, a trench and an air conditioner over to the other side so I could even access the first floor of the block which held my locker. An alarm bell rang briefly and all I did was roll my eyes when normally I'd be quivering in the obedient section of my jelly little heart.
Then I ran upstairs on the spiral staircase (which I had formerly been told was always the last to be locked) and speedily to my locker, where I dialed the combination in the almost-total darkness and got out everyone's preciousssssss.
That was when I went back to the spiral staircase and discovered that SOME MISBEGOTTEN BASTARD HAD THROWN DOWN THE GATE BEHIND ME. I could see no way to get down. I tried several stairways and all of them were grated; an uncle dangling a fearful bunch of keys I spotted from outside the staffroom, turning off the lights: all my pitiful attempts to get his attention were to be of no avail. You have no idea how pissed I was.
Hence the swearing in parade voice, loud and clear across the stuffy night air and the thoughts of misbegotten mugging Meridians cramming in the last of their daily toil.
Obviously, Raye and XT ribbed me about it all the way back on the bus journey home.
I think the field really needs some lockers; either that, or save the early lock-up for when there're no school events -- for fuck's sake!
Misquotation: my mum is a cookie. (v.o. my mum is cooking.)
Misquotation: gaseous sulfuric acid... turns you into a pencilcase??? (v.o. -- burns your lungs away.) --> and yes it does, so. In large quantities.
NOT Misquotation (shouted from second floor gallery across the MJ parade ground in full voice):
I CAN'T GET DOWN! SOME BASTARD'S LOCKED THE DOOR BEHIND ME!
You can tell I was just a wee bit excited at that point in time because it wasn't a door, it was a bloody misbegotten gate. And by then it was dark and I was tired and my clothes were stinking to high hell. So you get the picture -- but let's really start from the beginning, this time.
We were playing inter-class soccer. We hadn't trained, we hadn't prepared (I actually thought it was training, not the real thing itself! Nadira the House Captain disabused me rather quickly of the notion just before the match started, which was lucky I guess), and in any case we lost all three matches we played, royally. In any case, thanks to bad school planning and the usual shit, there were no lockers in sight of the first level in that whole misbegotten field, and XT, a friend called RAYE <--(new character!) and I wandered up to the second floor to deposit our valuables safely in my strongbox before the first match started. The matches lasted until about eight oclock, and it was universally agreed upon that Phobos had lost, royally, but definitely with flair. One cannot be in a team with so much intentionally girly screaming (it was hoped that it would disorient the enemy) without really enjoying it. But I cannot resist telling this one little story.
The first team we fought -- I mention not the house -- were completely obsessed with winning. We thought they were rather assholes, an impression which will probably not last because history is written by the victors, and we lost. In any case, our wonderful goalie was performing her usual dancer kick to restart the game and the ball flew predictably through the air; a tackler from the other team ducked unpredictably in and tried to do a header. It was an awful header. The ball went right smack into her face and knocked a plastic lens off her glasses. Cue collective gasp of shock from everyone on the field as the girl stumbles and clutches at her face.
'PENALTY!' she hollers.
Ah well. You can't expect much from Science people.
Other memorable bits include 'Baya trying to bounce the ball off her bum in the heat of the otherwise typical scuffle just in front of a goal, which I think I will not expound upon here. In any case, the 'tournament' ended at around eight. To our dismay the whole school had been locked up by then -- including all the routes from the field to the second floor where my locker was.
After a lot of running around in a lame attempt to find alternative routes and realising there were none, I gave up and hopped over two sets of railings, a trench and an air conditioner over to the other side so I could even access the first floor of the block which held my locker. An alarm bell rang briefly and all I did was roll my eyes when normally I'd be quivering in the obedient section of my jelly little heart.
Then I ran upstairs on the spiral staircase (which I had formerly been told was always the last to be locked) and speedily to my locker, where I dialed the combination in the almost-total darkness and got out everyone's preciousssssss.
That was when I went back to the spiral staircase and discovered that SOME MISBEGOTTEN BASTARD HAD THROWN DOWN THE GATE BEHIND ME. I could see no way to get down. I tried several stairways and all of them were grated; an uncle dangling a fearful bunch of keys I spotted from outside the staffroom, turning off the lights: all my pitiful attempts to get his attention were to be of no avail. You have no idea how pissed I was.
Hence the swearing in parade voice, loud and clear across the stuffy night air and the thoughts of misbegotten mugging Meridians cramming in the last of their daily toil.
Obviously, Raye and XT ribbed me about it all the way back on the bus journey home.
I think the field really needs some lockers; either that, or save the early lock-up for when there're no school events -- for fuck's sake!
posted by the zen thing at 12:04 am
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