At Least, Disasters are Interesting

No matter what happens with this play, there is no doubt in my mind that it's gonna be interesting. One kid got a major role and he can't even sing and I am suppose to look tough! As if short people can look tough. I may be able to do thirty pushups nonstop, but I don't look it. The cast is an eclectic group, and I've heard rumors about the choreographer, something akin to, ah, lets just say he might get married in Vermont. This will get very interesting very quickly. It can either go up, or down, more easily down. Is it July yet? Because in July, it's my birthday. In July, it's summer, and most importantly, in July the play is done.

Actually, I'm not too upset over my role in the play, this time he isn't the nerdy type who whines about everything, he's a cop. Best of all, he doesn't sing a word. I don't mind other people singing, besides MJ and Spears and Enya, I just don't like to do it myself. Ever hear someone scratch their nails on a blackboard? I'm worse. The one time I ever sang in public, the song was Piña Colada and I had a bag over my head, was at my school's Gong show. I was dragged off by two mental doctors.

Getting back to the point, when Thibideaux told me to check the cast list, a part of me wanted the role. Most of me, however, accepted it as fate.

God had predestined my life - I was to be Lt. Brannigan, and no earthly force could stop it, not even time itself. The lieutenant is my destiny. Some destiny.

Monday is the first rehearsal. From then on, I just have to remember:

In other news, I decided that MASH is my favorite TV show.

Alan Alda is hilarious, the show's hilarious and the movies almost as good, but I prefer Alan Alda to Donald Sutherland. Alda is a Mainer, so thats another reason to like him. I also like Three is Company with the late John Ritter. These old shows are so much better than the ones on now. I also like some of the older movies made by Mel Brooks, such as Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstien. Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder have a lot of talent.

"Where's Froggie?" -Hedley Lamarr Blazing Saddles

J Kuhl Signing Off

Je ne peux pas penser

That's French for "I cannot think." I should be typing an essay for tomorrow right now, and I have it half finished, but my brain feels fried. I checked my calendar, and sure enough, it's Tuesday again. I had one of those half days that come along every once in a while. Half days are longer than the normal days. At least, they feel this way. And today was even longer because it was a Tuesday, but I'm not going to start another tirade against Tuesdays, the day designed to add depression to an otherwise happy week.

I guess that I was just bored.

I suppose when a person gets up at 5:00 AM every morning, it would make sense that he's sleepy for the rest of the day. Mountain Valley, my old High School option, was not a good idea however, even though it's a mere five minutes away.

I remember back in the day when I said to my mother "I don't want to go to St. Dom's. I don't want to wear a tie every day, or get up at five every morning, or ride in the car for an hour there and back every day. I don't want to do it." I was set on Mountain Valley then. Look where I am now . . .

How ironic.

My problem with Mountain Valley is that it is full of idiots. I don't hate everyone there, actually, I don't hate most of them, just a small few. But it was enough to make me just look at them and then just leave. It was the better option. It was the only option.

So because of all this, I find myself bored, wearing my tie, at St. Dominic Regional High School rather than a prisoner in locker 283 in Mountain Valley High School. I guess I made a good choice; not one person really hates me, and I don't hate anyone, even that annoying kid. He's not bugging me much anymore.

It's hard to do that from the inside of a locker . . .

J Kuhl Signing Off

Lt. Brannigan

"Get rid of that Jar Jar figure before I kill you!" the first voice shouted
"But Jar Jar's my favorite character!" a second whined.
"Peter, I don't give a damn, it makes me sick" the first snarled.
"Oh Come on guy's, I gotta leave by twelve so lets play some poker" a third said.
"Vinnie, stay out of this!" the first voice shouted.
"Vinnie, please, let me keep my Jar Jar with me!" Peter whimpered.
"Lt. Brannigan, please, just ignore Peter!" Vinnie cried out "I just wanna play poker before I have to go home!"
"No friggin 'girly starwars dolls'" Brannigan shouted. "This is a man's poker table!"
"SHUT THE HELL UP ALL OF YOU!!!" I shouted. It didn't work. Peter continued to complain about his Jar Jar, Vinnie started complaining about how the wife was going to continue and Brannegan, just shouted about like a grump. These voices continued in my head all day long. You can't imagine the headache I have recieved! These characters are getting out of hand. Peter, Vinnie and Lt. Brannigan are all characters from play that I have either done, or will do.

My psychologist says I have a bad case of dramaitis. Mr. Thibideaux said Friday in an ominous voice "Check the cast list for your name Monday." I looked. There it was today, right above Kyle's. It's like Hello Dolly all over again. It's a massive play, some thirty people, eight from my class. Ben and PJ are doing stage crew again and Nick will probably do lights again. Poor Mike has to wait until Wednesday to see if he got the part he wanted. "Big Jule," that's what he got. I got Lt. Brannigan. Thibideaux said that it was a non-singing role. Damn, I hope so.

In other news, History class sucks!

I went skiing yesturday. My mountain, Black Mountain, just got a brand new chairlift that goes about 700 feet higher than the rickity-backbreaking-never-working-peice-of-[censored]-[censored]-[censored]
-T-bar. It was about three thousand below with windchill, so basically, I froze on the chairlift. But the skiing going down was awesome. Got some air on some nice hills. I had to go in about every two runs though.

I think Spruce mountain still uses a tote-rope. For crying out loud! In this age of spaceships and nuclear reactors, do we really need something as painfull and difficult as a tote rope? Gimmie a break. Of course, that mountain isn't much higher than an average two-story house. Those jay-walking citizens of Jay. Pathetic. I laugh at them: Ha Ha.

Surprise! You're doing the French Mistake!

J Kuhl Signing Off

I Don't Believe Him!

He did it again. Just like Hello Dolly, he did it again. My school is putting on the musical Guys and Dolls. I'm not the musical type, I don't like to sing, so I was going to work backstage, like I did for Hello Dolly. I walked into Mr. Thibideaux's room, he's the Drama guy, and I asked him when crew would be needed. He asked me why I didn't show up at auditions yesturday. I told him that I don't like to sing. He said that there was a role without singing. Then he said, very ominously, check the cast list on monday.

He roped me in again, hook, line and sinker.

Just another adventure.

After falling into Mr. T's trap, it was time for my school to go to Mass. I go to one of those weird schools that celebrate the Eucharist every Friday. I don't mind though. I'm not very religious but Mass makes my classes shorter, so it makes me happy. There is this very annoying kid that I don't like, and I realized he wasn't there. That made me happy. During the Mass, I noticed my History teacher, the Deuce, leaving. This made me even happier. About ten minutes passed. Father Labree was rambling about something in his homily, I can never pay attention during Mass, and I glanced to the right. And that was when my spirits plummetted The Duece returned, followed by that annoying kid. This made me less happy. I had it all, then they returned.

Later this evening I went to the fitness center. I was in the room, benching my humble five pounds when this eldish guy comes in. He gets on a back-extension machine. It has twenty bars on it, the twentieth is 330 pounds. He set the machine to the twentieth and then takes three half-weights from some other machines and stacks them on top. I looked at him in silent amazement and mouthed silently, "He's not gonna. . . " He did. Effortlessly. I was thinking "Did he just . . . ?" I was amazed. I strained my self on my five pounds.

Hey I attempted the 330 pounds.

That's why I'm typing this in the hospital.

Just Kidding.

Oh, don't type papers while you're stoned. This is the funniest essay I've ever read! But I can't believe he got a D-!
"This font is smaller than the last"

J Kuhl, Signing Off

TGIF is a Screwed Up Phrase

Until Friday, TGIF means Toes Go In First, it's a sign on my shoes. I can't believe it. It's less than three weeks since Christmas Vacation ended and I already need a vacation . . . I'm thinking California. Truly, I think that some 2000 miles in between Maine and me would be very good for me. Maybe I should even leave the States for awhile. I'd like to see the Mayan, Egyption or the Greek ruins someday, or perhaps skiing in Scandinavia or eating, czech that, gorging chocolate in Switzerland (no pun intended). A forty-five minute a day commute eats your very soul and gnaws at you day after day, although I'm not sure if that's the whole thing. Perhaps history has something to do with it.

History with the Deuce. The Deuce, that's what she's called. Rather like, El Duce, aka Mussolini. Nothing against her, she's a good teacher but I get behind so easily in that class. That irritates me. I wrote an essay on America's policy on the Native Americans. I liked it and I got it back. "0/9 points. Wrong topic." Schieße! How the hell did this happen? And then there was last Thursday when I was hit with two tests, in one day, in one class, in one period, that I knew nothing about! How do these disasters happen? Scheiße! Scheiße! Scheiße!

On a side note, I DO pay attention.

Yo Mamma jokes do not work in the deep south, especially with hillbillies.

Billybob: "Yo Mama so ugly, she gots herself a mustache!"
Jimney: "That ain't no mustache, them just nose hairs!"

If you are curious about the photo in my profile, that's me playing Ben in chess. I know that because he's the only person I played last year. I lost too. I haven't won much since. I only play because I'm bored though.

I'm all out of alphabet so, as Mr. Busher would say:

"Have a day"

J Kuhl, Signing Off

Hallo, My Name is . . .

. . . Iago Roderigo Desdemona Montano Antonio Bandaras the Third esq. You killed my father, prepare to die! In English, I had a quiz today. Somehow, on my test, it was about Othello, the name Iago and Roderigo ran together and my teacher read it that way, to the class, and IRDMAB III esq was born. Imagine having a name like that. "Would you, Iago Roderigo Desdemona Montano Antonio Bandaras the III esq. take Jill to be your lawfully wedded wife?" I think I'd just call him Iggy.

William Hung has met his match Numanuma. Hung's overrated. I don't know exactly what this is, but it's funny. I don't get Hung anyways. Why are we so Hung over him? (Geddit?) He sucks at singing and he's only funny the first time. Apparently, he's taking vocal lessons and wants to put out a new album. When will someone come out and tell him, he can't sing? Well, we'll just make fun of him some more. She Bangs! She Bangs!

One more thing, Five out of four people can't deal with fractions.

Iago Roderigo Desdemona Montano Antonio Bandaras the Third esq,

also known as

J Kuhl, Signing Off.