Paul (pauliver) wrote,
Paul
pauliver

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I Read You To Read Me

I'd usually start out one of these "long time no see" entries with some apology or excuse for being away for so long, but considering my excuse is "I'm a lazy bastard," and my apology goes something like "Get lives, fuckers," we can probably just get started right now.

So on Thursday afternoon I was sitting on the north side of the Marconi and Eastern intersection with the car opened up listening to the Pixies, who I appreciate more but don't find any less creepy since their concert a few weeks ago, when I started to hear a song from another car that sounded familiar but I couldn't make out with my music playing too. So I turn off my stereo and it's that cover of "I Want You To Want Me" coming from some guy's Jeep up a little further in the right lane. Probably noticing that the other music he heard has been suddenly turned off, I see the guy turn a little and see me looking over, and just like that he changes the station and acts like nothing happened. So, dude, if you happen to find this journal, probably while searching for the lyrics to your favorite song so you can sing it loudly in your room and then act like you weren't doing anything when your cat walks in (And trust me, even he won't be fooled), let me convince you that liking songs eleven year old girls probably do karaoke to at their sleepovers doesn't necessarily make you a sissy. But if you're going to listen to power pop covers when you're driving, you either have to be proud of it or get a car that isn't open on three sides.

Well, anyway, the light turned green, and while Jeep guy drove off somewhere else in shame, I headed over to Jesuit to get everything sorted out for the Europe trip in a meeting in which the kids actually going on the trip have no purpose being at except to dick around and make fun of people's parents. At one point Brian's mom said she wasn't sure her credit union would allow Brian to make withdrawals anywhere in Europe, at which point Grant Goodkind's classy dad asserted in the most ridicilous and out-of-place straight, direct and partly assholish tone, "A credit union is not a bank. It's not a bank." All of us were dying of muffled laughter and Brian's mom handled it well, and since the man who gives me a distinct impression of what Tyler Bazlen will be like when he's fifty didn't try to give advice for thirty minutes like last time, the meeting went pretty quickly. It turns out Paris "Shrek" Paraskevas, who was undoubtably a rhino in a past life and is everybody's second favorite killjoy (Father Palafox has all but retired and Wituki still takes the cake), will be coming along on the trip. I've heard that Mrs. Pozsar and Mrs. Creel are amazingly chilled out once they cross the Atlantic, and if Paraskevas doesn't play ball and tries to give us some JUG internacionale, we're going to choke him with a baguette and run him over with a gondola, which I believe is the most brutal form of assassination offered in France.

Also, with the exception of our group of four and the Gamaches, the Europe group closely resembles a robotics teams. Nerds ahoy. With any luck, though, we'll cause plenty of mayhem and break most of the rules without James Wiggington telling on anyone. You see, James recently complained about his post-AP test Physics class watching Family Guy episodes because they offended his Mormon values and therefore derailed that gravy train. I only have two requirements of any religious person, and that is that they don't impose on anyone else and aren't total pansies. James is 0 for 2 so far. Chris O'Connell, Brother O'Connell and Mother O'Connell are also coming, and though we've become comfortable with the nerd power of one O'Connell, the power of three may be overwhelming. It'll be an interesting trip for sure.

And it's only two weeks from Monday. Which means that we have one week left of school and then finals. Summer, just like everyone's second-favorite OC girl of the same name, has been teasing relentlessly since around January, with little peeks here and there and more and occasional implicit toplessness as we've been getting closer to May. School ends a week from Thursday. Summer will be completely bared with nothing to hide from us. I think I speak for every guy in the room when I say I'm hoping Rachel Bilson follows suit.
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