Jessica Alexanders is such a freaking oaf.
So, I was just walking down the crowded hallway at school, on my way to Advanced literature, which used to be my favourite class. Until IT moved here from freaking Oregon. OGREGON more like! Ha.
I took the usual route, as I am a man of consistency, passed by my giggling gaggles of female admirers, passed by my laughing football playing "homies" (Possible homosexuals? Not sure if the giggling theory applies to men. Note to self- must look into that), didn't stop for a chat, only waved hello much to their secret dismay, because I didn't want to lead them on, and I walked through the wooden doorframe, into the classroom.
Can you guess what the first THING I saw was? Well, I'll tell you. It was that disgusting, smarmy fat toad. Jessica Alexanders. The bane of my existence. In the damn flesh. Although you could hardly see her flesh beneath all her PIMPLES! This immediately put a damper on my day.
She, or shall I say IT, was lurking in it's assigned destination. Absolutely perfect. Now I was going to have to stare at her face, for the whole class. Not that I wanted to of course, but her face could be compared to a car accident, I just can't look away. No matter how hard I tried.
Of course walking over, I was all sophisticated nonchalance. I slid into my seat in my usual suave fashion, casually knocking a chair over on purpose in the midst of it. I positioned my head so that it was at such an angle that I could spot her out of the corner of my eye. She was inhaling at a volume that would have induced Darth Vader's jealousy, but what else was new? Her haircut was, actually. She'd trimmed it about half an inch.
So I mulled there in my seat, observing the creature, and listening to Mr. Pitchman at the same time. The creature is oblivious to everything, except for her current neanderthal mate, freaking baseball team captain Max Jennings, who has the intelligence quotient of a TURNIP, might I add! Then, Mr. Pitchman asks "Jessica (EW), as you were so obviously paying attention I suppose it would be a vindicated request, if I asked you to recite William Shakespeare's Sonnet No.18?"
It cracked it's jowls open. Then, it spoke. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of may.."
HOW ABOUT THIS, JESSICA FREAKING ALEXANDERS???? Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Methinks not, as a summer's day is not a FRIGGIN' IDIOT! I'm so cheesed off.
I have to find mother's scented oils. I'm running a bath.