I Feel Like Marian Paroo and Carol Peterson And It's Just Monday

It's Monday.

Which means a couple of things.

One, even though I'm still on summer break M and 190 others friends claim they are not. Which somehow seems unfair because I love staying up late watching old black and white movies and sleeping till 930am. Leaving the house at 630am seems sort of like a cruel punishment. Seems? No it is!  But someone else has other plans for me...that someone leads the band.  Yep, marching band is back in full swing.  Sure M's been spinning her flag and rifle like there is no tomorrow since the first part of June--today marks the beginning of full band.  This means up early, fighting the campus construction, parents and teenage drivers on the high school lot. For M it means up early, out in the heat and humidity all day, working towards the same goal as her 190 friends, coming home to be crabby by 7pm and in bed by 9pm dreaming of bandwiches and marching down Pasadena's Colorado Blvd.  

Second, as mysteriously as the Klopek's came and went so comes our new temporary neighbors...we'll call them "frat boys".  Although we are not sure how many boys fill the house we are certain by the cars parked in the driveway and on the street that there will be many.  King Ralph is walking around instructing the girls not to talk to the "frat boys" or even look there way. Protective father, oh-brother.  I have a feeling landlord has let it be known that those of us who bookend the ole' mysterious rental house are not all that fond of our revolving neighbors.  I have a feeling I may have more to share about the "frat boys"...time will tell.  I'm thinking it's gonna be an Animal House this go around.   

Now, since Mondays mean really only one thing around this female dominating house, The Bachlorette (cause there is nothing better than cheesy-trashy-head-shaking-love-seeking-mini-porn reality televison), I must part way.

Until later....            

Cash is King and Sleep is Over Rated

Friday Midnight

Before I know it I will standing in a cafeteria with music blasting in my ears while my head trys to scream back, unsuccessfully, "turn it down" and a mass of people crank out 4000 subs. While I hone my counting skills double checking if the orders were filled correctly; I will think about Friday night's fun.

Trivia.

Trivia itself was rated W for weak but the team players rated G for great. Weakest trivia I have ever been to. Lowest turn out ever for Project Graduation trivia night. It was crazy how slow things went. The flower category sucked a big one! It was apparent we are not drinkers of to many mixed cocktails according to the drink category...like who the heck drinks a greyhound? I thought the greyhound was 1. a form of mass transportation or 2. a dog who runs races. Not a cocktail! Odds are if I bellied up to a bar and told the bartender I wanted a greyhound he/she would look at me like I had two heads. I did however leave the evening $198 richer. King Ralph and I won the 50/50. I would have donated it back except with the budget cuts in the district I decided to be greedy and keep it. I bought a jacket at the silent auction so I donated part of the winnings back.

We marked our tie breaker sheet for 68 and ended the evening with 65 total points. Not our best, but we had a hell of a table buffet. One drunk dude from the losing table came by and started loading a plate with our buffet selections. We were all so dumb founded we just stared in shock at his audacity. Then once I realized who's table he came from, not to mention the fact it was an all male table who came armed only with a five-gallon barrel of hard pretzels and a cooler of beer...well, you begin to feel sorry and proceed to load them up with your leftovers. King Ralph found another guy in the men's room hugging the toilet while his buddy instructed him to "lock his knees" while he held his head over the toilet. Really!? How old are these people? Sure we had some wine, beer, margaritas and a little spiced rum at our table but we all left collected and upright.

Okay if I stop typing and get to sleep I will clock 4.5 hours of rest before the sandwich song starts playing at ten thousand decibels.

Saturday 437pm

I actually got 3 hours of sleep before the alarm summonsed and the sandwich song started playing. By the time we finished making 3100 bandwiches and delivering the bandwiches I was so tired I could hardly hold one eye open and find my bed. M too. But I did and so did M. I napped like a queen...no a princess because a queen would still be sleeping. M must be the queen, she is still sleeping. I'm jealous! To be 17 again.

I am so tired and you'll never guess what I am cooking for dinner? Bandwiches. (I say that with an evil but serious giggle.)