SNEED: The Musical!

I've searched for so many pictures, but haven't found any that really
capture the essence of Sneed... but this picture will work for today.

I would like to introduce the world to my friend and locker neighbor, Sneed.  He is what some would call "a character", some would call "creepy".  I just call him "Sneed".

Let's hear what teachers have to day about Sneed!

"Sneed, the world you live in is immensely interesting."

"Beware: Sneed will find out where you live."

"Always suspect Sneed."

And yes, even the teachers call him by his last name.  Almost everyone does.  His mother named him Cody Sneed, but why let such a unique last name go to waste?

Today in our Intro to Spanish class, Senora Goldstein was getting annoyed by a fly buzzing around the room.  According to her and several eyewitnesses, it had been inhabiting her classroom ever since zero-hour that morning and was persistent in her futile attempts to kill it.  She couldn't catch it for the longest time, until it landed on Sneed's desk.  (He sits all alone in the front and center of the room.)

When it landed on Sneed's desk, he grabbed his ten-pound government textbook and brought it down on the desk with a noise loud enough to interrupt the class.  Senora Goldstein rejoiced at the death of her four-hour arch enemy.  She ran to the back of the room to get a tissue, but Sneed had already picked it up between two fingers.

He was making a move toward the trashcan in the back of the room, until Evan uttered those immortal words that I think we'll all remember until the day we graduate.

"Eat it."

We were repulsed and urged him not to... until we thought about it.  How funny would it be if he actually did eat it!  I don't know about my classmates, but I've never seen anyone eat a bug before, and it seemed interesting.

Soon we were all cheering him on, chanting.

"EAT IT!  EAT IT!  EAT IT!"

He looked tempted, standing between Senora Goldstein and the trashcan.  She was pleading with him, begging him not to do it, but she was barely audible over our laughter and chanting.

Then he did it.

He ate the fly.

Threw his head back, smiled, and let the black dot fall into his mouth.

We screamed, we laughed, we clapped.

He made retching noises, he grinned, he returned to his seat.

And class resumed.  Senora Goldstein walked back to the front of the room, rubbing her forehead.

When the bell rang again, I found myself at my locker, grabbing my Biology book.  I turned to my left and saw Sneed standing there.  I asked him how he was feeling.

He responded by giving me a huge smile, and singing in the tune of that song we've all heard about an old lady, "There was a cool red-head who swallowed a fly.  I don't know why he swallowed the fly."

And I replied, singing in feigned mourn, "Perhaps he'll die..."

I told him that they would make a musical about him one day.

He laughed and gave me the name of the Broadway hit that will one day make millions.

SNEED: The Musical!

And as he walked around school for the remainder of the day, he sang his song.

Making babies!

We've been learning about genetics in Biology, and we did a lab today.  The goal was to better understand how genes combine, and Dr. Harris passed out thick packets.  No kidding, the first direction was to "Pick a mate with whom you would like to have a baby."  I looked at the person sitting next to me, knowing full well that we were both too lazy to get up and find someone.

Jean.
The smartest girl in our grade, with the highest grade in our Honors Bio class.

"So... uh... do you want to..."

"Um... sure... how do you spell your last name?"

(Awkward.)

Just when I was getting excited about having a "free day" in my toughest subject, without any notes, Jean broke the news to me that the baby would look more like her.  Being what some may call "dumb" in Biology, I had no idea why our baby should look more like her.  I asked why.

She started to explain that I was a "festival of recessive genes" (her words, not mine). 

Festival of Recessive Genes…

Hey, I think that just came to town!  The Seattle Recessive Festival!  Oh, no, wait... that was the Renaissance Festival.  What would a Recessive Gene Festival be like? 

Would people dress up in their DNA necklaces or mad scientist costumes? 

Would the concession stand sell slushies from the Citric Acid Cycle machine? Would they be served in beakers?

Would people ride the new thrill ride, The Mass Extinction?  (It'll drive your nervous system CRAZY!)

And what about that new band, the Retroviruses?  I heard they have a new heavy metal single, Electron Transport Chain.

I couldn't find any picture of a Recessive Genes Festival, but here's the Renaissance Festival!  See the lady on the right side of the picture who ruined it by wearing jeans?  Would that make her a RECESSIVE gene?  You know, because she's recessive, and wearing jeans?  Get it?  Genes!  Hahahaha... I make myself laugh... 

That would be so fun!  I am going to start that some day.  Actually, I can't; I know NOTHING about Biology.  Maybe Jean could start it!  Wait, is she still talking?

Yeah, she was still talking.  I came back to Earth just in time to hear her say that I have blond hair and blue eyes.  Jean is has dark hair and dark eyes.  Dark hair and eyes beat light hair and eyes in the world of genetics.

It still didn't seem fair that the baby (which would be half mine!) wouldn't even look like me, but I didn't switch partners, because, honestly, I would rather get a good grade than have some baby resemble me.

When Jean and I were done making our baby (it sounds so awkward!), we had to draw it.  Our baby looked the most realistic out of anyone's, but it was also the scariest. 

Isn't she so cute?!

If you have keen eyes or a spectacular computer monitor, you'll notice the name.

HER.

We didn't think she deserved a good name.  But that beats some of the other baby names I heard today, like "Penny Ann Nickles" or "Itler".

Another thing you should notice is that lovely red check mark on the bottom of the page.  I don't know whatever happened to A's or B's, but in Biology, our teacher believes in the system of checks.  You either get one, or you don't.  Pass or fail.

And we passed!

Yay!

It's been a while since I've gotten a decent grade in Bio, although I am an "excellent student and a joy to have in class" in most of my other subjects.  As we walked out the door, off on another adventure in Math, I thanked Jean for helping me to get a check.  I looked at our drawn picture and called down the hallway, "But I will never ever ever have a baby with you!"  She smiled and said that she wouldn't have a baby with me either.

So I'm glad we got that sorted out.

Do I smell? No, seriously.

What does it mean when your locker buddy

comments on your scent? 

On the one day, the one day, this year that I chose to wear perfume, I was grabbing binders out of my locker, when Sneed walked up to his locker, which is right next to mine. 

He sniffed the air and announced, "I smell something... do you smell anything?"

I didn't look at him when I said calmly, "No, Sneed, I don't smell anything."

"Yes... I definitely smell something," he replied, then paused before saying, "May I please waft you?"

"No, you may not waft me!"

But he did anyway.  He burst my large personal space bubble and smelled me.  He made a gesture similar to one that a French chef may make over his newest creation, sweeping his hand through the air, toward his nose.

Then he grinned and said, "Yes, it was you!  I thought it was you, and it was!"

"Good job, Sneed."

When he had grabbed his last textbook out of his locker, he turned to me and said, "You smell good... you smell like JC Penneys!"

Should I feel insulted or complimented?

PROM: Part 2

"All you need is for one person to think you're cool, and you're in.  Everyone else will be scared to question it."
- Never Been Kissed, 1999

Gibby, Kirsten, and Kristen, from the movie Never Been Kissed look a LOT like the
Maybellines that we all know and occasionally get along with: Jessica, Haley, and Demi.

            I feel that prom is a big enough night that it deserves to be split into two seperate notes.  So if you want the whole story, read my last note.  Or enjoy my short and sweet recap.
           
           When we went back inside, the DJ had put on Beyonce's Single Ladies, as a bit of a "tip of the hat" to all the people that had been excluded from the last song or two.  My friends and I practically ran to the dance floor; this was our song!  I found myself dancing next to one of the Maybellines, Demi, knowing full well that she was NOT a single lady.  But I put that aside and tried to enjoy myself... until my foot got caught on something.  I looked down, and what I found changed the course of the dance for the remainder of the night.

            Demi was dancing in her, I kid you not, turquoise zebra-striped strapless dress that had been barfed on by a Bedazzler.  One of the things that amazes me about the Maybellines, other than their overuse of both eyeliner and bad attitudes, is the fact that they can go anywhere and come back with a new boyfriend.  Whether it is Math class, a field trip to the science museum, or prom, they always manage to meet a new “friend”.  Which brings up the question: why was Demi dancing to Single Ladies?  Possibly advertising that she was "on the market"?  Who knows.  Who cared?  I tried to ignore her and have a good time.

            But when I felt my foot catch on something, I leaned down and picked it up.  It was a clump of bleach-blond hair.  I looked slowly from the tuft of hair in my hand to the Maybelline next to me, matching the colors.  I noticed that her hair was less poufy than it had been twenty minutes ago.  I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Oh my gosh.

She was wearing fake hair.

            Being the nice person I am, I decided not to throw it in the air for the world to see.  (Although, it would have been something to talk about for reunions to come.)  Instead, I whispered in her ear and handed it to her.  Her blushing face somehow shone through the pancake layer of makeup she had on as she threw it away from the dance floor, like something that had been snaked out of the shower drain, not wanting anything to do with it.  And for whatever reason, she wouldn’t leave me alone for the rest of the night.  As the Godfather says, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."  Maybe she didn't want to give me the chance to share her secret... however, she doesn't know that I have a blog.  (Ha!)  She even tried to copy my dancing, which led her lemming friends to copy her... you know, because eyeshadow comes in packs of three.  And when other people saw the three most popular girls in school dancing like that, they too started doing the Grace Kent.

It was awesome.

            When prom ended, Demi was still dancing next to me.  Her BFF Haley ran over to us, looking guilty and wringing her hands, exclaiming “Oh my gosh, I just made out with Dylan!”

            Let me give a little background on this.  At our small school, Dylan is the guy who most all of the girls had a little crush on in the beginning of the year… until we all realized that he was a jerk.  He always walks around surrounded by girls of all ages, but it is usually Jessica, Haley, and Demi.  They have all dated him at one time or another, but we never know which one he is going out with currently.  It appears like he treats them all equally, so as to not lose anybody.  If he holds hands with one, he holds hands with the other two.  The part that I don’t understand is that they all seem to be perfectly fine with it, and they are all best friends.

            But I was pretty sure he was “officially” dating Demi last Friday.

            So when Haley walked up to Demi and I, the former being her best friend, Demi surprised me by not getting upset with Haley, but seething, “I’m going to kill him!”

            And at that moment, my phone vibrated.  My parents were here, waiting outside to give me a ride home.  I said goodbye to everyone and got into the car.

            And we drove home.

            I reflected on the night’s events: 

1. my dancing (and possible new popularity?!) 
2. Sneed's invitation 
3. And of course, the newfound Demi-Dylan-Haley love triangle

And I wondered if anything would be different, walking into first period on Monday morning.

PROM: Part 1

           

           
            I wasn't even planning on going... but according to my best friend Kelsey, "If you don't go, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."  So I went.
            I recycled my dress from 8^th grade promotion, which is fine, and my parents drove me to this nice burger place, where I met about eight of my girlfriends.  We had dinner there, before we carpooled with Kelsey’s dad to prom.
            When we arrived there, I walked in with my friends and we saw everyone from school.  I must say, it's a little strange to see everyone with their sneakers and backpacks replaced by gowns and tuxes.  Even the teachers were dressed up!  I saw Senora Goldstein, dancing in the same way that she had taught us to earlier in the week, next to The Flare, who was also very dressed up and looked to be having a good time.
           As I mentioned in my last note, I am not the best dancer, and have been known to stomp on the toes of anyone within two feet of me.  I tried my best not to step on anyone that night, though, because I knew that, with my new high heels, ambulances may be involved.
            For a while, the DJ played faster songs that we all know, like Firework, Thriller, and Tik Tok, but about an hour in, he put on a slower one.  All the couples, mainly upperclassmen, rushed out on to the dance floor.  My friends and I, suddenly feeling out of place, went outside onto this patio to cool off.  On our way out, I heard a girl I had never met say to her friend, "This is where singles go to die."  Thanks.  The way my cousin puts it, "Valentine's Day and Prom are also known as Singles Awareness Day."  However, I was perfectly fine with taking a little break from the sweaty room that was a claustrophobic's nightmare.
            Just as my friends and I were making a move to go back inside, Sneed stood in front of the door, blocking our way... and he asked each one of the eight of us, individually, if we wanted to dance.  He seemed a little upset after we all declined, but brightened up when he remembered that we had all seen Senora Goldstein, his favorite dancing partner, on the way in.  He excused himself and went back inside.
            When we went back inside, the DJ had put on Beyonce's Single Ladies, as a bit of a "tip of the hat" to all the people that had been excluded from the last song or two.  My friends and I practically ran to the dance floor; this was our song!  I found myself dancing next to one of the Maybellines, Demi, knowing full well that she was NOT a single lady.  But I put that aside and tried to enjoy myself... until my foot got caught on something.  I looked down, and what I found changed the course of the dance for the remainder of the night.

To be continued...