me: Caught mostly green lights on the way to school, got to class 10 minutes early. Just me and Squeaky McGrunterson. She hasn’t stopped talking since I walked in—about the weather, about her jump drive, about AAAAAAAUGH! Why won’t she shut up? [note:Squeaky McGunterson is the name I gave to the woman who sits beside me in class, because she’s constantly grunting and making high pitch squeaks during class. Like Pat from the old Saturday Night Live shows. Just weird sounds, all the time.]
my sister: Do you want me to call? I could call for a second to give you an excuse to move away.
me: Nah, Good thing you texted, though—forgot to turn off my ringer.
me: You know, it’s not that I hate my life. It’s just that I hate the things that happen in it. Example: the woman who sits beside me just made a stupid joke that wasn’t funny. Not too bad, right? Then she laughed at her own joke, which was even more annoying. The topper? She did one of those laughs where you don’t open your mouth. Like a nose laugh. Did I mention she has been blowing her nose all morning? So she does her nose laugh and blows a mist of snot all over my arm. I can’t believe there’s no such thing as justifiable homicide.
me: And now she’s standing in front of my chair with her panties hanging out.
me: Out of class. Am now dousing myself in Purell.
my sister: Loved the play-by-play. I left my phone out in the car after the grocery store, otherwise I would have offered sympathy earlier.
me: Those were the biggest underpants I’ve ever seen this side of Pee Wee’s Playhouse.
my sister: Just out of morbid curiosity, what color were they? And I’m so hoping they were thong!
me: Aged white. And no—a thong would have been better because I would’ve thrown up all over myself and left class early.