i haven’t bought no one cares what you had for lunch, (oops, forgot to mention that link is NSFW) but i’ve seen some of the ideas floating around there from maggie’s book. one of them is reposting a note from jr. high. since moving back to california, i’ve come to the sad sad grips that my parents may very well have lost my yearbooks from high school and jr. high when they moved to this town when i was in college (but haven’t given up hope and plan to ransack the garage once the craziness has subsided), along with my copious notes that i saved from jr. high when semaphoria and i were crazy note passing chiquitas.
but i did find one in my bedside table. folded in the way that only teenage girls fold notes.
and i got so excited that i decided to post it. however, i can’t post about 91% of it because it’s a full-force rant about her jr. high boyfriend. and no one needs to read most of it. but there are some bits that are too random to be anything but our surreal flavor of old inside jokes.
while no one will find this amusing but semaphoria and i, here it is. for instance, the mega story which semaphoria recently found in her bookcase would be much more surreal, much less redacted, and much more dated with the pop culture references to how long home alone was #1 at the box office, but i can’t find that one.
in the comments, you can tell me if you would rather hear what i was planning on having for lunch.
Muffi (Editor says: don’t ask) –
[redaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacted] Why, oh why, do I put up with it? (Probably because I’m on slugs!) Ack! [redacted] Have I lost my half of the brain? (And is the other half still on the ski club bus?) To quote Shakespeare, “Never smuggle grapes into a foreign country.” Has S. fallen victim to the trendies? Has un-trendyism fallen to the trendies? (Long story) SLUGS! ACK! I need them, yet I am locked in this dark cell (aka math class) in which The Enforcer (aka Mrs. K.) is putting my brain on the stretcher. (I am also being deprived of my slugs!) I need to female bond (But don’t let Norm know).
Death to the Trendies,
The Lucky Chicken Foot
P.S. Can you do a beetle dung revert to chopstick?
interesting to me is that i have recollections of about half of these inside jokes (1/2 brains, slugs, Norm) but only the vaguest memories of things like the grape smuggling or why semaphoria’s nickname at that point was the lucky chicken foot.
(p.s. i’m having 1/2 of a baked potato with blackened chicken, broccoli, and cheddar cheese from claim jumper. maybe only 1/3 – i’ve been underwhelmed by food the past few months. still not pregnant, maryam.)