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:: "fuzzy romance and brutal terror" : apparently, I can get behind that ::
Misty water-colored memories 
10th-Nov-2007 09:14 pm
Detail of 'Yuuwaku' by Audrey Kawasaki
I am completely in the grip of a cold right now, and slept until 11 am this morning with very weird dreams.  One of them involved my senior year art class, and I seem to remember that it was very weird and fun, but I can't remember it at all.  Unfortunately this triggered a memory that I haven't been able to get out of my head all day.

My Art 4 class consisted of 4 people: me, the only girl. M, who was quiet and nice but I had never known until Art 3 the year before.  B, who I had known since 7th grade when he hit me in the head with a broom after I almost fainted and fell off the bleacher during choir practice.  And J, who I had known since 2nd grade out at one of the tiny country elementaries.  When we had to square dance, the teacher often paired us up alphabetically and so I had to dance with J quite a lot, and I learned very quickly that when it came time to do-si-do,  he would try to run so fast that his partner would lose their grip and fly off on a trajectory that ended at the gym wall.

We were all in Art 4 because we liked it, but none of us had any plans to do anything artistic after graduation.  On the other hand, there were several people in Art 3 who intended to pursure graphic design careers, so the teacher put us the storage closet so he could ignore us and concentrate on them.  I am not joking about this.  It may have had a window, but it was the storage closet.  There was a table, which housed the mat cutter during the other class periods but was removed when we were in there, and shelving lining the walls, and the teacher frequently even closed the door during class and left us in there to our own devices.

Right before Art, J had a Home Ec class that he was taking because it meant he was the only guy in a class full of sophomore girls who cooed over the sight of a big bad senior guy cooking and sewing.  (I am beginning to wonder now why J did not go to college, since he was clearly smarter than every other guy in our class.)  One day he sat down at the table with a big grin on his face, and we had this conversation:

J:  Today in Home Ec, they did sex education.
M:  (clearly wishing he could die) Oh.  Really.
J:  Yeaaaaaah.  You know what?  When I get married, I'm gonna make sure my wife has one of them cleee-toris thingys.
Me:  (bursts into hysterical laughter)
M:  (turns beet red and looks at the ceiling)
B:  (also clearly wishing he could die right now) Um, J...I think...I think they've all got...one of...those things.
J:  (smile getting even bigger) Goooood.
B:  Also, I think it's pronounced...um... (glances at me, then looks away quickly) It's pronounced differently.
J:  It's still cooool.
 
Comments 
11th-Nov-2007 04:18 am (UTC)
Possibly the most awesome story ever.
11th-Nov-2007 04:49 am (UTC)
My art class was filled with hilarious moments. Unfortunately most of them are ones that you probably had to be there to really find them funny...like the day of the roadkill bunny drawing. Or the day J, B and I snuck into the tunnels under the school and then the janitor shut off the lights on us. Or the time we deliberately put plasticine modeling clay in our pottery before it was fired because the teacher always lectured us that plasticine would explode at high temperatures.

Actually, if I am entirely honest, this sort of behavior may have been one of the reasons we ended up in the storage closet. But putting us in there just allowed us plenty of privacy in which to cook up more schemes like these.
11th-Nov-2007 04:55 am (UTC)
Heh. Storage Closet o' Brilliance!
11th-Nov-2007 12:09 pm (UTC)
Boo for the cold. It's a godawful state to be in, isn't it?
Still, this post made me laugh, and if I'd been in a class with J that day I'd have probably got thrown out of the room for laughing too loudly.
11th-Nov-2007 05:55 pm (UTC)
The thing I hate most about colds is that utter lack of energy: I slept 12 hours last night and yet still don't want to do anything except curl up on the couch and stare mindlessly at the TV. Blech.

That's the one decent thing about being stuck in a closet for class: the laughter isn't quite as noticable when the door is closed. ;0)
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