He's even hotter with no hair. I should have known. If he's hot when he has a peeling sunburn except for a white line where his bandana was, if he's hot with five o'clock shadow and covered in paint during Hell week, if he's hot with a bad dye job, if he's hot in a band uniform, then why shouldn't he be hot with friggin' razor burn on the back of his head and wearing a hat that makes him look like a communist? He's always hot. He could probably gain fifty pounds and grow a full beard and I would still look at him and see the most beautiful human being on Earth. And I don't know why.
Seriously, I don't understand it. I hate him. Every time he opens his mouth in Odyssey and talks for five minutes about nothing, saying things like "Referring back to so-and-so's inquiry, I really think you need to provide us with more substansiation," and starting every single question with an unnecessarily long introduction ("I have a two part question pertaining to South Africa. In reference to the previous comment - some people might not agree with me, you can agree or disagree - I was wondering if anyone else holds the opinion that...") I want to kill him with my bare hands. But I can't stop looking at him. What's wrong with me? Aarrgghh.
Oh man, I think I had the worst rehearsal I've ever had for anything last night at the first pit rehearsal with the drama kids. I just... sucked. There's no other way to describe it. There's no way to explain it. I just played everything wrong. I just played like I don't know how to play. I don't get it. I did so well Tuesday. Maybe I was just nervous. Maybe the presence of the drama kids and the difference in sound freaked me out. Still, that doesn't bode well for the actual performances. I screwed up every one of my solos. I hope I can get a little confidence and a little... actual skill by Hell week.
[Insert token complaint about how screwed I am acedemically here.]
Alright, now onto the amusing, non-complainy stuff.
Yesterday we rehearsed Happy Birthday so that we won't be terrible when we play it for Mr. Thomas Sunday. It is actually quite the complex arrangement. (Probably because it was arranged by Jay.) There are at least fourteen parts written for it, not including percussion. It has a time change and two fermatas, and it incorporates parts of the show over the last two years. It is one hell of a Happy Birthday.
Just in case Mr. Thomas decided to come by his office, we stationed the wierd freshman conga player who we call Lenablo outside the band room door to watch for his car. Sure enough, in the middle of a run through, Lenablo came in and signalled to Alice.
"Stop! Everyone stop!" she said. She looked around. "Uh - Joni Mitchell! We're playing Joni Mitchell. And hide your music!" Everyone grabbed "Happy Birthday" off of their stands and stuffed it into their pockets or cases. We all started playing the show a few seconds before Mr. Thomas walked in. He stood there and watched us as we played the opener, preseumably confused since we weren't supposed to have practice that day. Toward the end, he went into his office.
"Um... Good job everyone," said Alice after we finished the opener. She looked as if she wasn't sure what we were supposed to do next.
"Yeah, that gets better every time we play it," said RJ rather loudly.
"So... I suppose we should play the rest of the show now," said Jason, giving Alice a look.
"Oh. Yes. Yes we should." We did, and then she said, "Well... I guess we can all go home now. Make sure to pick up all your stuff. Make sure you don't leave anything behind."
"Do you think he caught on?" I said to Dave as we were waiting for rides outside the band room.
"Na," he said. "I recently realized that Mr. Thomas is almost exactly like me. And that means that he doesn't pick up on things like this at all."
The following conversation took place at lunch today:
Julian: Hey, you want to start a band?
Me: Don't we already have a band?
Julian: No, a different one.
Me: Um... With who?
Julian: You, Me, Dave, Greg, and possibly Mike the Nerdy Sophomore.
Me: Um... Isn't that just the other band, except with a better drummer?
Julian: Yeah.
Me: Did Greg agree to it?
Julian: It was Greg's idea.
Me: Oh. Ok. I don't know if I'm going to have time for it though. I kind of have no free time for the next... Three weeks.
Julian: Aw man. I haven't played with other people in like a month.
Internal Voice: (I haven't made out in like a year.)
Other Internal Voice: (Hey, shut up! You're talking about music, don't get distracted.)
Molly: You know what would solve that? Joining marching band.
Internal Voice: (Hey, that fit in surprisingly well with my previous comment.)
Other Internal Voice: (Ugh! Shut up!)
Julian: Ugghh.
Me: See, if you joined marching band, you would get marching band inside jokes. Let's tell marching band inside jokes!
Molly: Ok, um... Code cobalt.
snigger
Molly: Ahh, code cobalt.
Internal Voice: (Ooh, let's think about Adam now.)
Other Internal Voice: (I hate you.)
Julian: Let's not be Grover Cleveland again.
Me: This isn't Grover Cleveland! That was you me Dave Greg and Elijah. This is clearly a completely different band.
So I guess I have a band now. Another one. One with a real drummer. Hm. I wish there were some way to ditch Ani for the talent show without offending her. Is creative differences a good reason? Not when you've only had one rehearsal, I don't think.
As we walked down the hallway today after Brit Lit, Dave was talking about how the band has gradually changed since eighth grade. When he got to the part where we kicked Adam out, I said, "Ooh, I love that part! Tell it again!" He did.
"...So then we were like, 'Oh, we're not kicking you out. This band's breaking up, and we're forming another band that has everyone in it except you.'"
"And he never caught on. The end."
Football game. Later.
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