Pretty Much Satisfied

I now have about half of a Meg Cabot book (Queen of Babble Gets Hitched) to read at my leisure, along with a bagful of Harry Potter–books 2 through 5–and a comfy, warm blanket to hunker down under during this unseasonably chilly July evening. I have some yummy Sunny D to drink and I just ate two chocolate mint cookies (from the 99 Cent Store, but they taste just like Thin Mints). I managed to patch things up quite nicely with my deary dear boyfriend with whom I am happily back together. Comic Con is near on the horizon, and will be followed shortly by a family trip to Portland, OR.

Also, I discovered that we have microwavable bacon in our fridge. If I may borrow the words of my funny but cynical math teacher and club adviser, Can I get a hell yeah?

This all being said, you can see why I’m actually pretty happy right now.

And sure, after we get back from Portland, I’m probably going to have to slide into my studies and get cracking on that painfully dry AP biology textbook, but at least I’ll (probably) be studying with my friends. We agreed to study together, especially since some of them will be sharing books in exchange for extra credit–a whopping 10% bonus, lucky bastards–so we’ll probably have a few meetings at the charming townhouse that is one of these book-sharing friends’ domicile, and then a few meet-ups via Skype, and hopefully we’ll finish the assignment that way.

And there is, of course, band camp to look forward to! Apparently, being a sophomore will not exclude me from being considered a freshman in band–at least not until the second semester or something like that–but at least I’ll be that much closer. Not to mention, I’ll finally be above someone. Not even, really, though, considering I’ll likely still be the worst flutist in the section, since one of the incoming freshman flutes was the middle school’s drum major. Not that that really means anything. Besides, I hear she’s a conceited bitch anyways–not just hear, actually, I know it, because she signed my yearbook when she was going into eighth grade as “Band Drum Major for the 2010-2011 school year” and I happen to know that she did the same in everyone’s yearbooks. Which I think is toootally not classy.

But that’s beside the point, right? Because even being the drum major of the middle school band (which is, admittedly, a smidge more impressive than our high school’s band) does not mean that she knows anything about being in a performing marching band. And I’m quite sure that she’ll find she doesn’t. Okay, so she’ll probably play better than me, just my luck, but at least I’ll have a clue what I’m doing. I’d like to see them make a fool of me this time! There will be no business of me getting my hand stuck in the not-pockets of my marching band uniform pants like last year! Ha!

Anyway, I’ve got Queen of Babble to get back to, and later, Chamber of Secrets. That said, goodnight, chickedies!

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