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| *pets Xanga* It's over for another four years now. You all know what's coming next!
www.xanga.com/seniorteepeee
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| Before I begin, I believe that there is someone out there who wants to be principal. Is-is the committee lagging behind or something? (searches for help) I mean, the position seems to be open (nervous chuckle) every year. You'd think (lowers head and voice) the committee would do something...
Honored guests, teachers, parents, family members, school board officials, fellow students, and (takes a deep breath) fellow grads, let us all begin the last trek home...
Now I'm not up here to talk about some principal; I'm up here to historian your four years--what? "Historian" isn't a verb?--I'm up here to document your uh... (strains to read) one-dur-full four years here at No-well high. I'm sorry, Lowell High. It's been four great years, four years that I can safely say you'll never get back, but you have also gained so much... to a certain extent. I mean, think about it, when you're as old as any of these guys behind me, you'd want to gloat about the fact that we had an imaginary swimming pool on our imaginary fourth floor to the youngsters on the twenty-nine bus going to SI because they actually have one. And remember all that stuff you learned in AP World and Euro that you remember but still don't quite understand? You can totally be like all Zheng He and impress everyone with your massive U-boats and astrolabes and square sails knowledge, and everyone will all be like, "Whoa, you be mad Ming Dynastyin'! YO!" or whatever (flails hands).
It all began on one sweet day in August, days before school actually started. A ceremony for incoming freshmen, and then came the orientation. After the traumatic hazing, we were ushered into a cut-throat atmosphere where friends are friendly enemies and enemies are frenemies. We eventually settled into our niches, our posse, if you will, and school went on even though our rally skit sucked.
Then came sophomore year, our fun year! We thought about the APs, ACTs, SATs, CIAs, ABCs, FBIs, CAHSEEs, but rarely about social L-I-F-E. I myself took the SATs this year and scored a (enunciating) twenty-four (pause). Hey, I was proud. And then most of us took a foreign language because we know the future of business is outsourcing. dan shi what we aprendido from diese schone institution is gimongaarimasu. wo men zhen shi yao hui shuo ne me duo yu yan ma? ¿Viajaremos realmente nosotros a España? Ich will Hitler Babys nicht treffen! Ano... watashi wa nihongo ga dekimasen. ...Look it up.
THEN junior year wheeled around and keeled over an old lady, and that sweet old lady is named Intellect. Situations become dire as people invested their blood, sweat, tears, money, and all to none other than THE JUNIOR PROM! I have but a small anecdote for prom or, as I like to call it MORP: It was a big excuse to see who
can spend the most money and who can dress up the prettiest in a dress.
Considering how our dress codes are (sarcastic) so strict that they don't permit
dresses to be worn at school, I guess it was a good way to express
one's gaudiness and how well one can twist that to seem more romantic
than uh... what's the word? cheap. Was it worth the time and money? I guess not, but will I
ever admit it? No. It was a god damn magical night, and generations
after me shall follow the trend of truthiness. They shall see what I
convinced myself to see. Morp is a
backwards word and world there that I still don't quite understand, but, for
the sake of argument, I'm going to say that I do. But junior year wasn't all that bad; most of us got rid of the burden we call Intellect. By this third year, we've been numbed, institutionalized, to the work that is the work for the sake of working, grades for the sake of grades, knowledge for the sake of knowledge. (wags finger to audience and to self) I can point to each and every one of you because you're all victims of such a process. We learn not to improve ourselves as people but ourselves as careers, jobs, money. Was it worth the time and money? I know it's a no, but will I ever admit it? No. It was a god damn wonderful four years, and generations after me shall follow the trend of truthiness. They shall see what they (points to people on stage) convinced me to see.
(calmer) Finally, the end comes, and we're all gathered here, in a holy matrimony, to wed ourselves to our diplomas. Senior year has taught us much--mainly how to cope with rejections and failure. The coping mechanisms we gleaned from psychology has helped immensely, but they weren't enough, which is why we're here to make it all better. Class of 2008, hug your diplomas and hold them well. Once we step out that door, it's a whole new world, and you'll be damn glad you can at least graduate from Lowell High.
Lines are crossed, but those are my thoughts put in humorous light. | | |
| Yesterday was junior prom that I, too, guiltily took
part in with dearly beloved Stephen Colbert. And as indescribable,
uncontainable, placed in the stars in the sky as it was, I have a few
words to wrap the once-in-a-lifetime event in a small, describable
bubble. And that brings us to tonight's word: Morp.
Now you wordinistas out there trying to get back at
me for correcting your use of the English language somewhere in your
lifetime may say, "Hey! That's not a word! You're suffering from
schizophrenia." Well, I'll tell you why you're always wrong, and how
I'm always not you.
In the days leading down to this glamorous event,
the celebration of camaraderie and shiny stuff, I spent a good portion
of my time setting high expectations. Oh, what a magical night this must
be, I thought, for I am putting out upwards four hundred dollars! Many
have asked me about my dress and whether I would match my date and
whether I plan to take pictures. Of course, by social laws, I would
then have to buy a new dress that would match what my date shall wear
and what he would ultimately have to buy and make sure that a deal is
struck between the two of us so that we don't have to spend so much on
pictures. Oh, and shoes! Who could forget shoes?! And mannies and
peddies and bears, oh, my! Phew! Luckily, I'm a girl, so I don't have
to buy the tickets. $250. Done.
I spent days fretting about how I should do my hair:
Do I want it up so that it doesn't get in the way when I take a picture
or do I want to keep it down so it doesn't get in the way should I
choose to freak-dance? More than once I consulted my close girl friends
for their advice. We spent hours talking about the best salons and
somehow the conversation leads to boutonnieres and corsages. We never
get anywhere. In any case, I ran into the nearest salon on Friday night
to get my hair done. $75 w/ corsages + boutonnieres. Done.
IT'S SATURDAY! THE BIG EVENT! The day I've been
working so hard for has finally arrived, and, as I sit on the couch,
figuring out which posture would make me look best when Stephen sees me
for the first time, I realized that I hadn't picked out my purse! I run
back to my room and stuff the ridiculously small bag with my iPod, cell
phone, ridiculously large wallet (Those designers should either make
smaller wallets or bigger purses!), and tissues. By the time I get back
to the couch, I found Stephen already patiently waiting. Phooey.
We go to dinner and spend a large portion of our
time idly talking and conversing, trying our hardest to avoid the
elephant in the room. APs, SATs, homework, tests, and such. Damn
Stephen for rambling on and on about his loss to Sean Penn.
Dinner ended on a sour note, but the dance floor was
SWEEEET! I didn't get to stay there for long because the social bylaws
state that you shouldn't be the first one to get to a prom, so I didn't
get there until 10 PM. Unfortunately, the party ended at 12 AM. Stephen
refused to dance out of shyness. My eyes were marred by the sight of
people freakdancing. I lost my cell phone. The DJ was insufferable with
his rap songs. I did no more there than I normally do in the cafeteria.
In the end, it was all just a big excuse to see who
can spend the most money and who can dress up the prettiest in a dress.
Considering how our dress codes are so strict that they don't permit
dresses to be worn at school, I guess it was a good way to express
one's whorishness and how well she can twist that to seem more romantic
than sluttish. Was it worth the time and money? I guess not, but will I
ever admit it? No. It was a god damn magical night, and generations
after me shall follow the trend of truthiness. They shall see what I
convinced myself to see. Emotion first, rationale follows. It's a
backwards wor(l)d there that I still don't quite understand, but, for
the sake of argument, I'm going to say that I do.
And that's the word.
EAT IT, PROM ATTENDEES!
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| "Sweeps Week," it's a TV term for the time period
during which the Nielsen Media Research assess shows' ratings. It's the
time when the professionals behind the tubes churn out their best and
finest to boost ratings. Lowell teenagers also have sweeps weeks. Like
the Nielsen Media Research, we have then four times a (school) year,
excluding Finals Week. It's the time when teachers churn out their
tests and deliberately bunch them together to get the best of a
student's attention.
Disabling comments because I don't give a f__k about how many tests
you'll have on one day or how many tests you'll have overall or how
hard the tests will be because the teachers suck or how much you'll
have to study or how little you'll sleep. Oh, and by the way, May SATs
are coming soon. After that, APs. And after that, June SATs. Oh, and
don't forget that after the short fleeting summer, there's college
apps. There's no reason to complain so soon.
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| Nonsense BS!Tiffy speak
Ironic counterpoint!Tiffy speak
I guess you'd Say... What can make me feel this way? YouTube (YouTube, YouTube), talking 'bout YouTube (YouTube!) I've got so much anger the bitches envy me. I've got a sweeter swear than the turds in the trees.
Didn't you know The Temptations had a new song? And that brings us to tonight's word: Music.
Today begins the Viacom-YouTube Great Purge of '07!
AKA Viacom PMS Day
YouTube is removing as many clips copyrighted to Viacom as it can, and this includes clips owned by Comedy Central.
Vigilant corporate overlords are finally getting out of bed.
Well, folks, the music industry must be taking a pounding by this!
Let me tell you why. The music industry has been attacking mass Internet downloads since 2000.
Turn of millennium made them insecure
The percentage of illegal music downloads has significantly decreased since then. Thereafter, the music industry's overall revenues have plummeted.
Kind of like Britney's chest
Now Viacom is taking those very tactics to destroy their shows' ratings and viewer numbers.
You mean that was her stomach?
Hurrah, Viacom.
Viacong
Avid Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert fans are reacting violently to the latest purge. One under the name of Puddly went so far as to say, "Fuck you, Viacom."
Viacom said, "No."
In reality, they're all overreacting.
Reacting to reality
Think about it, if Viacom takes off ALL Daily Show and Colbert Report clips, the respective fanbases will move onto Viacom's next best thing, which just so happens to be... nothing.
Or The OC
What more do you want folks?
Those clips back on YouTube?
Viacom has already nicely implied through vaguely arbitrary means that it wants viewers to watch those clips on Comedy Central's Motherload, where its corporate supporters can implant bugs to replay their advertisements over and over again before viewers can watch the actual video! WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT!
Viacom on Notice?
Just because you're poor and don't have cable doesn't mean you can freeload off YouTube.
YouTooPoor
Wait.. if Viacom owns nearly everything on TV, doesn't that mean it owns itself?
Pwnage!
Well, I just can't wait until Viacom takes itself off the air because that'll be music to my ears. And that's the word.
Bite me, Viacom. The wikiality has spoken.
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