these kinds of things never happen to me. like, ever. but it did. HA!
good stuff don't usually happen to me so when it does, i'm usually super-giddy about it, euphoric, even. which is too much, i know, but ha! i don't care! i'm still so happy!!!
first up, i got a perfect score on my first advanced algebra test! yay! (i didn't even get it the first time so i'm just so satisfied with myself!!!)
and someone actually bothered to give me an invite for gmail! yay! i owe you one, pat! (i mean, she doesn't even know me. like, not personally. just online. she's the best online pal ever!!!)
and last, but so not the least? PAUL ACTUALLY TALKED TO ME!!! Paul actually talked to ME! PAUL actually talked to me! PAUL ACTUALLY TALKED TO ME!!! THIS IS SO UNTRUE!!! i was so lightheartedly silly that i was giggling throughout the whole recess period. like a lovestruck teen. which i totally am! here's something i wrote the afternoon after The Paul Incident:
My heart stopped at that very moment. Like, literally.
The day started out normal, like, boring-normal. Good thing Leann didn’t forget to bring Teen Idol (which I’d borrowed the day before), or else I’d’ve died even before…ehem…Paul could talk to me.
Okay, so it wasn’t the longest conversation. It wasn’t even a *short* conversation. It was just a question—a simple question—he asked me. I was in shock, so I simply ogled at the book for a few seconds (good thing I was reading then or he would’ve seen my face, scarlet not only because of embarrassment, but also of sheer shock that Paul—out of all people—would bother to talk to me) before regaining my composure.
The question he asked? “What book is that?”
Yeah. I know. I nearly *died*. Of suffocation. Of feeling hot and cold at the same time. Of feeling the blood drain out of my body and feeling all of it rush to my face. Of hearing his voice and almost losing mine. Of him asking me the title of the book and me asking myself the same thing.
Yep. All of that from a simple question. How emotionally retarded am I? Like, really?
And you know what my award-winning, audience-shocking, breaking-news-worthy answer was?
“Teen Idol.”
Pathetic, I know. No zingers. No smart remarks. No sarcastic witticisms. Not even a simple, “So, have you read it?”
Dang, I am so pathetic.
Okay, so he actually said, “Um, excuse me, what book is that?” See? That’s why I like him so much. He’s smart, he’s cute, *and* he’s polite. Isn’t he just perfect?
but my actual point is *he* talked to me. he was the one who approached me. which never happens to me. like, ever. so that's one to the geeks!
first up, i got a perfect score on my first advanced algebra test! yay! (i didn't even get it the first time so i'm just so satisfied with myself!!!)
and someone actually bothered to give me an invite for gmail! yay! i owe you one, pat! (i mean, she doesn't even know me. like, not personally. just online. she's the best online pal ever!!!)
and last, but so not the least? PAUL ACTUALLY TALKED TO ME!!! Paul actually talked to ME! PAUL actually talked to me! PAUL ACTUALLY TALKED TO ME!!! THIS IS SO UNTRUE!!! i was so lightheartedly silly that i was giggling throughout the whole recess period. like a lovestruck teen. which i totally am! here's something i wrote the afternoon after The Paul Incident:
My heart stopped at that very moment. Like, literally.
The day started out normal, like, boring-normal. Good thing Leann didn’t forget to bring Teen Idol (which I’d borrowed the day before), or else I’d’ve died even before…ehem…Paul could talk to me.
Okay, so it wasn’t the longest conversation. It wasn’t even a *short* conversation. It was just a question—a simple question—he asked me. I was in shock, so I simply ogled at the book for a few seconds (good thing I was reading then or he would’ve seen my face, scarlet not only because of embarrassment, but also of sheer shock that Paul—out of all people—would bother to talk to me) before regaining my composure.
The question he asked? “What book is that?”
Yeah. I know. I nearly *died*. Of suffocation. Of feeling hot and cold at the same time. Of feeling the blood drain out of my body and feeling all of it rush to my face. Of hearing his voice and almost losing mine. Of him asking me the title of the book and me asking myself the same thing.
Yep. All of that from a simple question. How emotionally retarded am I? Like, really?
And you know what my award-winning, audience-shocking, breaking-news-worthy answer was?
“Teen Idol.”
Pathetic, I know. No zingers. No smart remarks. No sarcastic witticisms. Not even a simple, “So, have you read it?”
Dang, I am so pathetic.
Okay, so he actually said, “Um, excuse me, what book is that?” See? That’s why I like him so much. He’s smart, he’s cute, *and* he’s polite. Isn’t he just perfect?
but my actual point is *he* talked to me. he was the one who approached me. which never happens to me. like, ever. so that's one to the geeks!
