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Jan. 8th, 2006 03:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phthalombrageSpecial Marauder's Map / NSA Conspiracy Log Report:
Number of times tiny dot labeled "Nicole Reilly" visited various residences on Saturday.
Melody's house: 3 (brief return trip to promote world peace)
Calliope's house: 2 (Calliope's dad had told me I was welcome to return after dance and I soon discovered myself doing just that)
My house: a mere 1 (since I got home after midnight)
During the last minutes of sixth period on Friday, walking up the handprint-encrusted path away from the shell parking lot, I saw a dark shape in the distance.
"Hmm," I thought to myself, "that looks vaguely Sasha-shaped."
It was Sasha-shaped for a very good reason:
It was Sasha.
I had been looking for Sasha, so I was quite ecstatic.
I drove downtown to deposit Sasha with Calliope and Leah. We found them while I was on the phone with Leah. Their backs were facing us, and they were pointing and staring at a building less than a block from where I work. When they turned around, they waved their arms exasperatedly at my distinctive motorcar, whereupon I informed them (still via telephone) that I had decided to park at work.
We were exiting the bank's front door as they were approaching it. Each of them had a pink hibiscus tucked behind her ear, flowers growing near the entrance that they must have picked a few seconds prior while Sasha and I were still in the elevator or the building's lobby. Unbeknownst to me (at the time) Calliope was crossdressing, and unbeknownst to them (at the time) I was wearing the wrong pants.
We rode the elevator up to where I work. They saw the door and Awika.
I then explained that I needed to change into pants that were stored in the trunk of my car, as jeans are inappropriate office attire. My boss never actually set a dress code for me, but I never wear jeans to work... We were in the elevator a lot, jumping in it just before it stopped each time.
They lock the bathrooms and I didn't feel like going into the office and getting the bathroom key, so we went out to find a safe place for me to remove my pants.
The Baptist Church was closed. They are quite hostile to the needs of women.
The hair salon, however, was open. I changed my pants in their bathroom and the stylist guy wished us a happy new year as we left.
I was originally supposed to be seeing The Producers at seven, but I had to stay at work until 7:45. It was perfectly fine, however, because everyone had bailed on the movie idea and retreated to Pirates Cove (not to be confused with Smuggler's Cove, Pelican Cove, Pelican Pete's Playland, etc.)
I floundered around miserably at arcade games, but I was capable of driving Go-Karts. (goats??) Upon exiting the vehicle, I noticed that my hair felt wet. Turns out I had gasoline in my hair. I smelled dead... sexy. But I won the second round of Laser Tag I played despite my utter lack of skill and the fact that I spent the entire time in there climbing the various exciting apparati that nobody is supposed to climb.
My drive to Perkins was quite erratic due to the fact that I had just been piloting a tiny vehicle shielded on all sides by a bumper. Plus I was dancing like a fool to rave music on the radio. Sasha and Calliope pimped my ride, jumping up and down as if they were shocks.
Since Perkins sucks, we went across the street to Taco Bell. The inside was closed, so we tried to walk through the drive thru. The personnel was not amused. "You need to be in a car," they whined.
So we pushed TM's car up to the speaker. *Hilarious* They said they would call the cops if we did not leave the premises of "my store." Even though we left, they appeared to be dialing a number. Nazis.
The Taco Bell on 41 was far superior. The door was locked but Paul let us in since my car was the last to arrive. My father told me I had to come home within 20 minutes, but Calliope told me I could stay over at her house. Pwned.
I got some cheesy fiesta potatoes and a small puncture wound from the one of the poorly-made black sporks of doom. I later realized the potatoes were the only thing I had eaten that day... obviously, it was a good idea.
We didn't go to the art walk and Calliope avait douze ans and Melody and Paul left. We soon found ourselves frolicking in the parking lot after the departure of three wasted juniors. We were all standing on a ledge around a pole when a drunk man appeared from the interior of a truck. We told him that the restaurant was locked.
It was a good thing we went through the drive thru because otherwise I would have forgotten my purse. Hail caramel apple empanadas, spoiler of diets worldwide.
Calliope rode her unicycle and hung from the nifty bars installed in various parts of her house. TM took all the pillows and made everyone curl up sniveling like feti with his evil tickling powers. Leah straightened up the couches to assuage her OCD-ness. Sasha had one cool hat. (She was tired, so there wasn't much to say about her at the time.)
Then we had a bathroom party. See, Calliope had to remove the putrid stench of petrol (which I don't mind in the least) from my hair before she would allow me to sleep with her. Such high standards, God.
I had washed it but it still reeked. Calliope took action. Crouching in the bathroom by the pool, she began transforming my hair into a white puffy tower (a picture of which Leah has on her phone). Then she poured (hot) water onto my head. It was a bit awkward and failed to remove the smell.
Calliope amassed an arsenal of different shampoos. We put on bathing suits and returned to the bathroom. I don't even know how many times she shampooed my hair, although a lot of my uncertainty can be attributed to my on-again off-again blind struggle to avoid filling my eyes with suds. After I rinsed all the sliminess from my hair, she put some stuff that smelled good into it.
And you could still detect the distinctive odor of sweet fresh gasoline. I made a protective Arabic headdress from a towel conveniently located in a closet.
After some brief confusion regarding purple pants, Calliope and Sasha dropped into deep slumber. I watched two episodes of Sealab with Leah and TM, but then those losers wanted to sleep too! I fidgeted and moved around and made them nervous and the motion-sensitive nightlights flash on a few times. I spent at least an hour in transit between the living room and guest room type thing and on various furniture/ parts of the floor in both rooms. My body temperature became uncomfortably low so I retired to the bed with Calliope and Sasha in it and sleep.exe ran successfully.
Morning arrived, throwing cheerful rainbows onto my left pectoral muscle area. Calliope made the best smoothies ever. (It was acknowledged that she was off her allergy diet.) Sasha and Calliope's mom raced Sudoku and I made hot chocolate so I'd have an excuse to use whipped cream.
After briefly browsing a webpage replete with resplendent duct-tape prom fashions, I found myself stretching in the Desenberg-Mawn dining room rather then at Flex. I missed acro and didn't get to make cookies, but I got to eat one of them later that night. Overall I had much fun.
Can't say as much about dance. Hip hop. Forgot it already. Amy's taking over tap team with an entirely new dance since some dumb bitch complained about Cynthia. More hip hip tomorrow. Let me leave it at that and possibly expand on it sometime else.
My mom told me to come home, so I did, and ate tofu stir fry and ramen.
She told me my dad had thought I sounded buzzed on the phone. I was most definitely not. But I can't break the driving curfew anymore... uh... as much...
In any case, she still let me go hang out with Melody.
Our agenda was complicated, our path convoluted, but eventually we ended up back at the Desenberg-Mawn residence in search of Melody's wallet, which was located on the windshield of Paul's car, which was parked in the Desenberg-Mawn driveway. Non-adult Calliope joined us in our quest for something to stop Melody from dying of starvation.
We balanced condiments on our heads, ordered french fries, and danced crazily in mirror images to the music emitted by a smiling man with a guitar. The waitress kept telling us that we were having way too much fun and reiterated that she had not given us any alcohol. I'd attribute it to the "midnight toking" on french fries. On our way out, we said hello to a woman that appeared to be his wife, alone à table.
Then we crashed a private party in a new bead shop franchise. Calliope took a piece of kiwi from their food table. Eventually a man holding a plastic cup that had once contained an alcoholic beverage but was now nearly empty approached us and clarified the situation. The store would not be open until tomorrow and we were interrupting their private grand opening party, but we were welcome to stay and browse. The beads were beautiful and expensive. Later a blonde woman told us to leave. We did, after collecting some temporary tattoos.
We pushed buttons on a talking machine in front of a realty office. Being teenagers, we made it say inappropriate things. We laughed in delight as a jovial not-so-young (but not old) couple, arm in arm, chanted "F U C K" in unison as they passed us. Calliope's neighbor came around next, so we decided to leave our new mechanical friend with the following message: "DISSENT.IS.THE.HIGHEST.FORM.OF.PATRIO" (truncated due to display limitations)
We climbed poles, kissed John Ringling (eww, bird poop), walked atop benches, avons fait du lèche-vitrines (eww, bird poop), and sang Singing in the Rain. It was not raining, but we were singing nonetheless.
I met the ice cream dragon.
We returned Calliope to her home. She and I danced around for a bit, but soon we moved on to greater (more dangerous) things. Acrobatic partnerwork. We got partner cartwheels and partner back limbers on her lanai as well as a few "balancy things" and hope to work on more soon because it's awesome. For a while Calliope's mom was trying to take pictures, but we kept unintentionally screwing them up by falling/ being faceless. Calliope's mom is so cool! Her whole family is cool.
Driving Melody home, I thought about the nature of cool people. Everyone who has ever ridden in my car (as long as it's been in my possession), with a few small exceptions, makes the list. The there are the cool people who don't ride in my car because they can drive themselves and the cool people I've never had an opportunity to drag somewhere with me. But yeah, Melody's another person with a Cool Family. I'm glad that she was happy at the end of the day.
My mom snuffled a bit about my showing up an hour and twelve minutes past my curfew, but I'm okay. All my dad said was that the next time I want to sleep over at Calliope's she has to have slept over at our house first. And I assumed from that he meant for me to clean my room, a truly Herculean task. They made some snide comments, but they're like that.
Everything worked out in the end and they all lived... in a yellow submarine.
Number of times tiny dot labeled "Nicole Reilly" visited various residences on Saturday.
Melody's house: 3 (brief return trip to promote world peace)
Calliope's house: 2 (Calliope's dad had told me I was welcome to return after dance and I soon discovered myself doing just that)
My house: a mere 1 (since I got home after midnight)
During the last minutes of sixth period on Friday, walking up the handprint-encrusted path away from the shell parking lot, I saw a dark shape in the distance.
"Hmm," I thought to myself, "that looks vaguely Sasha-shaped."
It was Sasha-shaped for a very good reason:
It was Sasha.
I had been looking for Sasha, so I was quite ecstatic.
I drove downtown to deposit Sasha with Calliope and Leah. We found them while I was on the phone with Leah. Their backs were facing us, and they were pointing and staring at a building less than a block from where I work. When they turned around, they waved their arms exasperatedly at my distinctive motorcar, whereupon I informed them (still via telephone) that I had decided to park at work.
We were exiting the bank's front door as they were approaching it. Each of them had a pink hibiscus tucked behind her ear, flowers growing near the entrance that they must have picked a few seconds prior while Sasha and I were still in the elevator or the building's lobby. Unbeknownst to me (at the time) Calliope was crossdressing, and unbeknownst to them (at the time) I was wearing the wrong pants.
We rode the elevator up to where I work. They saw the door and Awika.
I then explained that I needed to change into pants that were stored in the trunk of my car, as jeans are inappropriate office attire. My boss never actually set a dress code for me, but I never wear jeans to work... We were in the elevator a lot, jumping in it just before it stopped each time.
They lock the bathrooms and I didn't feel like going into the office and getting the bathroom key, so we went out to find a safe place for me to remove my pants.
The Baptist Church was closed. They are quite hostile to the needs of women.
The hair salon, however, was open. I changed my pants in their bathroom and the stylist guy wished us a happy new year as we left.
I was originally supposed to be seeing The Producers at seven, but I had to stay at work until 7:45. It was perfectly fine, however, because everyone had bailed on the movie idea and retreated to Pirates Cove (not to be confused with Smuggler's Cove, Pelican Cove, Pelican Pete's Playland, etc.)
I floundered around miserably at arcade games, but I was capable of driving Go-Karts. (goats??) Upon exiting the vehicle, I noticed that my hair felt wet. Turns out I had gasoline in my hair. I smelled dead... sexy. But I won the second round of Laser Tag I played despite my utter lack of skill and the fact that I spent the entire time in there climbing the various exciting apparati that nobody is supposed to climb.
My drive to Perkins was quite erratic due to the fact that I had just been piloting a tiny vehicle shielded on all sides by a bumper. Plus I was dancing like a fool to rave music on the radio. Sasha and Calliope pimped my ride, jumping up and down as if they were shocks.
Since Perkins sucks, we went across the street to Taco Bell. The inside was closed, so we tried to walk through the drive thru. The personnel was not amused. "You need to be in a car," they whined.
So we pushed TM's car up to the speaker. *Hilarious* They said they would call the cops if we did not leave the premises of "my store." Even though we left, they appeared to be dialing a number. Nazis.
The Taco Bell on 41 was far superior. The door was locked but Paul let us in since my car was the last to arrive. My father told me I had to come home within 20 minutes, but Calliope told me I could stay over at her house. Pwned.
I got some cheesy fiesta potatoes and a small puncture wound from the one of the poorly-made black sporks of doom. I later realized the potatoes were the only thing I had eaten that day... obviously, it was a good idea.
We didn't go to the art walk and Calliope avait douze ans and Melody and Paul left. We soon found ourselves frolicking in the parking lot after the departure of three wasted juniors. We were all standing on a ledge around a pole when a drunk man appeared from the interior of a truck. We told him that the restaurant was locked.
It was a good thing we went through the drive thru because otherwise I would have forgotten my purse. Hail caramel apple empanadas, spoiler of diets worldwide.
Calliope rode her unicycle and hung from the nifty bars installed in various parts of her house. TM took all the pillows and made everyone curl up sniveling like feti with his evil tickling powers. Leah straightened up the couches to assuage her OCD-ness. Sasha had one cool hat. (She was tired, so there wasn't much to say about her at the time.)
Then we had a bathroom party. See, Calliope had to remove the putrid stench of petrol (which I don't mind in the least) from my hair before she would allow me to sleep with her. Such high standards, God.
I had washed it but it still reeked. Calliope took action. Crouching in the bathroom by the pool, she began transforming my hair into a white puffy tower (a picture of which Leah has on her phone). Then she poured (hot) water onto my head. It was a bit awkward and failed to remove the smell.
Calliope amassed an arsenal of different shampoos. We put on bathing suits and returned to the bathroom. I don't even know how many times she shampooed my hair, although a lot of my uncertainty can be attributed to my on-again off-again blind struggle to avoid filling my eyes with suds. After I rinsed all the sliminess from my hair, she put some stuff that smelled good into it.
And you could still detect the distinctive odor of sweet fresh gasoline. I made a protective Arabic headdress from a towel conveniently located in a closet.
After some brief confusion regarding purple pants, Calliope and Sasha dropped into deep slumber. I watched two episodes of Sealab with Leah and TM, but then those losers wanted to sleep too! I fidgeted and moved around and made them nervous and the motion-sensitive nightlights flash on a few times. I spent at least an hour in transit between the living room and guest room type thing and on various furniture/ parts of the floor in both rooms. My body temperature became uncomfortably low so I retired to the bed with Calliope and Sasha in it and sleep.exe ran successfully.
Morning arrived, throwing cheerful rainbows onto my left pectoral muscle area. Calliope made the best smoothies ever. (It was acknowledged that she was off her allergy diet.) Sasha and Calliope's mom raced Sudoku and I made hot chocolate so I'd have an excuse to use whipped cream.
After briefly browsing a webpage replete with resplendent duct-tape prom fashions, I found myself stretching in the Desenberg-Mawn dining room rather then at Flex. I missed acro and didn't get to make cookies, but I got to eat one of them later that night. Overall I had much fun.
Can't say as much about dance. Hip hop. Forgot it already. Amy's taking over tap team with an entirely new dance since some dumb bitch complained about Cynthia. More hip hip tomorrow. Let me leave it at that and possibly expand on it sometime else.
My mom told me to come home, so I did, and ate tofu stir fry and ramen.
She told me my dad had thought I sounded buzzed on the phone. I was most definitely not. But I can't break the driving curfew anymore... uh... as much...
In any case, she still let me go hang out with Melody.
Our agenda was complicated, our path convoluted, but eventually we ended up back at the Desenberg-Mawn residence in search of Melody's wallet, which was located on the windshield of Paul's car, which was parked in the Desenberg-Mawn driveway. Non-adult Calliope joined us in our quest for something to stop Melody from dying of starvation.
We balanced condiments on our heads, ordered french fries, and danced crazily in mirror images to the music emitted by a smiling man with a guitar. The waitress kept telling us that we were having way too much fun and reiterated that she had not given us any alcohol. I'd attribute it to the "midnight toking" on french fries. On our way out, we said hello to a woman that appeared to be his wife, alone à table.
Then we crashed a private party in a new bead shop franchise. Calliope took a piece of kiwi from their food table. Eventually a man holding a plastic cup that had once contained an alcoholic beverage but was now nearly empty approached us and clarified the situation. The store would not be open until tomorrow and we were interrupting their private grand opening party, but we were welcome to stay and browse. The beads were beautiful and expensive. Later a blonde woman told us to leave. We did, after collecting some temporary tattoos.
We pushed buttons on a talking machine in front of a realty office. Being teenagers, we made it say inappropriate things. We laughed in delight as a jovial not-so-young (but not old) couple, arm in arm, chanted "F U C K" in unison as they passed us. Calliope's neighbor came around next, so we decided to leave our new mechanical friend with the following message: "DISSENT.IS.THE.HIGHEST.FORM.OF.PATRIO" (truncated due to display limitations)
We climbed poles, kissed John Ringling (eww, bird poop), walked atop benches, avons fait du lèche-vitrines (eww, bird poop), and sang Singing in the Rain. It was not raining, but we were singing nonetheless.
I met the ice cream dragon.
We returned Calliope to her home. She and I danced around for a bit, but soon we moved on to greater (more dangerous) things. Acrobatic partnerwork. We got partner cartwheels and partner back limbers on her lanai as well as a few "balancy things" and hope to work on more soon because it's awesome. For a while Calliope's mom was trying to take pictures, but we kept unintentionally screwing them up by falling/ being faceless. Calliope's mom is so cool! Her whole family is cool.
Driving Melody home, I thought about the nature of cool people. Everyone who has ever ridden in my car (as long as it's been in my possession), with a few small exceptions, makes the list. The there are the cool people who don't ride in my car because they can drive themselves and the cool people I've never had an opportunity to drag somewhere with me. But yeah, Melody's another person with a Cool Family. I'm glad that she was happy at the end of the day.
My mom snuffled a bit about my showing up an hour and twelve minutes past my curfew, but I'm okay. All my dad said was that the next time I want to sleep over at Calliope's she has to have slept over at our house first. And I assumed from that he meant for me to clean my room, a truly Herculean task. They made some snide comments, but they're like that.
Everything worked out in the end and they all lived... in a yellow submarine.
