All Hail Me, Winner of Failing at Life!

  So, first The Bloggess wrote THIS amazing post about failing at being human, which made me laugh-cry (I had to read it in doses because it hurt my throat and stomach too much to laugh so much in one sitting). Then my BFF Kellie did THIS, and it was fantastic. And basically it's just bringing back too many painful, horrible, hilarious memories that I have to share. I think many of them have probably been posted on here years ago, but meh.

 These kinds of things seem to happen to me daily, which is probably why I don't talk to people much anymore. I really shouldn't be allowed to, anyway.

1. At EFY, Cute British Boy sat next to me at a John Bytheway talk. He introduced himself to me and I blanked, thinking, "My brother James would know JUST what to say to make this guy his best friend!" Held out my hand, said, "Hi, I'm James! . . . I MEAN JULIA." He later tried to whisper something to me three times, but it turns out I can't understand whispered British accents, so I gave up trying to understand and fake-laughed, assuming he was telling me a joke. "It wasn't funny," he said.

2. Used to exchange babysitting for use of washer/dryer in Oregon, so I lugged two heavy bags of laundry into my friend's house and chatted with her for about ten minutes before she finally said, "Um, it's Thursday." It took her several more hints before I realized I'd come on the wrong day.

3. Had a crush on 18 year old boy at church when I was fourteen. After sacrament meeting I was walking to class with BFF and swooning (loudly) over how much I loved him. "Haha, what if he was behind me?" I said. BFF turned around, "Um, he is." "Yeah, right, not gonna fall for that." He was.

4. Asked a man at Foot Locker if he could get me my size. He said something, but I couldn't hear well, so I laughed, assuming he told me a joke (I do this a lot, apparently) while handing him the shoe. He repeated, louder, "I don't work here."

5. At drama club, loudly complained about my assigned dance partner for musical number. Friends pointed out his father, standing feet away from us. "Dorian [name changed] isn't SO bad," I tried to course correct. "Julia, just stop," they begged. I did. Finally.

6. Went out with a group of friends to eat at Chipotle. One friend got a phone call and turned his head slightly for "privacy". I thought this was hilarious and mimicked him, slamming my head into the booth.

7. My very first trip to an OB was when I was pregnant with Lincoln. The nurse told me to take everything off and left a sheet on the table. Did not tell me robe was beneath sheet, nor that I could put it on. I hate being naked, but tried to seem nonchalant as OB walked in on me, casually standing there naked. She told me I could put on the robe. After giving me once-over.

8. Got a phone call from an insurance company with a very automated-sounding female on the other line. Halfway through something she was saying I blurted out, "Are you a robot?" I fully expected her to say, "I'm sorry, I don't understand," like most automated services do when you say something weird. Instead the woman said, "No, I'm a human being. Do I sound that bad?" I apologized, but her voice still sounded super robotic, so I laughed every time she spoke. Couldn't find a way to hang up for another five minutes.

9.  Called my male, ex-military fourth grade teacher "mom". I don't know which of us was more embarrassed.

10.  On a date at the movies. Used the cover of darkness to pick a scab off my arm. Accidentally flicked it onto date's leg (who was wearing shorts). Kept eyes glued to the screen as he brushed it off while glaring at me.

11. While we were dating, McKay took me to a fancy dinner at his professor's house, where I promptly dropped a plate of red sauced pasta on their pristine white carpet. Also, on one of our first dates he took me to a friend's house. After them joking about trusting me to not spill soup on their couch, I did just that.


  This is seriously just the tip of the iceburg. More like a speck on the iceburg. I've done so many humiliating things that I've managed to even forget some of them. What are your best worst memories?

[Also, hi. I know it's been forever. And I'm pregnant and living across the country since my last post. Maybe we'll cover that stuff later. Maybe not.]

Enchanted Forest . . . Disneyland's Slightly Twisted Cousin

  A few weeks ago, my friend Shanti and I took our toddlers to the (in)famous Enchanted Forest. You may not have seen, the local gem that is Enchanted Forest recently made the prestigious list of "World's Creepiest Parks for Kids" (seen here). Note that it didn't say "in Oregon" or even "in America". This park made this list out of all the parks IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. And, boy, did it live up to the reputation! Within the first hour, I can't even count the number of times Shanti and I turned to one another to say, "I can't believe how creepy this is. I'm seriously a little frightened." And luckily for you, I took lots of photo and video to document it!

   A few weeks before we visited, this Humpty literally had a great fall. Hence the ladder and missing bricks.

   The witch animatronic inside here made me scream aloud. Her chin was bigger than my head. I tried to get a video, but it was so dark you couldn't see a thing on camera. I think they do that on purpose.

   Mary and her sheep-dog thing.

This looks way worse in person. Trust me. 

   This was kind of cool, in an I-don't-want-to-do-it way. You could crawl through this long, pitch dark tunnel that went under the walkway for about fifteen yards. Lincoln pronounced it "dark" and "scary", and would not enter. Couldn't blame him. Those words were repeated often that day. You can hear it in this video:

  This was for the seven dwarves, if I remember correctly. There was a whole tight tunnel (but adult-sized this time. But forget about it if you're obese, those things were really, really narrow) that showed said dwarves mining, surrounded by green glowing waterfalls that did not photograph well. It was very eerie.

Jack and Jill did not look like they were "tumbling" down the mountain. Unless "tumbling" is another word for "being chased by monster demons".

   Lincoln was very curious to see what might be up there. By the way, this led to a slide. Don't you love the fangs? Nice touch.

   I like how the Crooked Man looks like a peeping Tom for his own home. 

   I took one step inside and felt like I was going to puke. I'm getting old. Lincoln and Magnus kept falling down. Shanti noped out, but I went through the "dark", "scary" house with the kids. And got to see this face:

   This picture looks more blurry than it is. Know why? BECAUSE THIS WAS PAINTED WITH FOUR EYES. I don't know why, guys. I don't have any answers. I'm only here to document.

Honestly, I've never heard of The Crooked Man, so I don't blame you if you haven't either. But everyone knows the Three Bears of Startling Flexibility!

   This one Shanti and I were like, "Hey, this one isn't so bad! Nothing too freaky about it." Until you get to the other side, and . . . 

   MOLDY WOLF THING.

   This park didn't make you sign a waver (or maybe it did, I can't remember), but every attraction had signs like this one. 

  After the fairytale/nursery rhyme walk-through section there were the shops and rides. We braved this bobsled ride, which included exactly zero seatbelts. I screamed for a lot of it, but it was good fun, I must admit. It reminded me of the amusement park McKay and I went to in China, where you were seriously afraid for your life the whole time. Added adrenaline!

   This is Shanti, and you can just make out Magnus' head, in the bobsled behind us, going up, up, up!

  The shops are interspersed with more fairytale animatronics, these ones in better lighting so I could share them with you lucky folks! It really doesn't do it justice, though, which is too bad. The blue fairy from Pinocchio looked like she had hung herself after chopping off her feet:

  Really, though, as scary as Enchanted Forest is (Shanti and I were both too chicken to check out the haunted house because, really, I hate to see what they come up with when they're TRYING to be scary), one thing you can say for them is there is a lot to do. A restaurant we took a break in had a fun water show every seven minutes, though even that was terrifying from time to time when the music became more intense and the lights all turned red.

While we were looking through the shops, Shanti told me, "Julia. Turn around." Again, I literally screamed out loud, seeing these guys hanging outside the shop windows:

  The kiddie rides were a big hit, but unfortunately, they also hit your wallet pretty hard. In addition to entrance fees, you needed to buy tickets to go on the rides. These tickets are 95 cents each (so basically a dollar) and most of the rides are 2-4 tickets. The bobsleds were four, meaning it cost eight bucks for Lincoln and I to ride it. Once. Most of the kiddie rides were two tickets (I think), and the kids could go on those without us, so those were a bit cheaper at least. Lincoln's favorite was (unsurprisingly) the TRAIN! The train that looked like it was designed by a 12 year old girl using photoshop in the early 00's.

  Gooooood times. This train was like Enchanted Forest's version of the Casey Jr. train at Disneyland. This train led you through the sights of:

   Old McDonald's Farm! (Cows say: HELP ME)

 Elfland!

And Cinderella's castle, surrounded by Pinocchio's village. Aaaand . . . that's it. Those were the three sights. Though, to be fair, there could have been zero sights and Lincoln still would've been thrilled.

  Lincoln also had a grand old time on these motor boats. The second time he went the guy let them go for like 5-10 minutes, which was pretty awesome of him.

  Really, though, we spent three hours at Enchanted Forest and the kids had a blast. Lincoln watches those animatronic videos on my phone over and over. And even with entrance fees and the ride tickets, we were out about twenty-five bucks. Compared to Disneyland, that's parking money. So, while it may not be Disneyland standard, for the fun the kids had and the "wow" factor (not exactly a good "wow", though), it was well worth the price. I think it was a good bonding experience with Shanti, too. We both survived Enchanted Forest with minimal emotional scarring. I think we're the stronger for it.

Did You Miss Me?

  You know what's been kind of nice?

   Not blogging.

   You know. Doing activities for the sake of doing them, rather than because I know it would make a good blog post. Not fretting about page views, comments, or other crap that--really? Does not matter. In the slightest.

  BUT NO MORE!

  . . . At least for today. I'm bored, and backed up in photos, so I'm going to UPDATE THE BEJEEBERS OUT OF YOU GUYS. I'm going to write as many as I can while McKay's meeting with the missionaries (he's ward mission leader thingy. That equates to lots and lots of meetings and lessons and stuff. Usually it's my video game time, but since I already played a crazy amount today, I thought I'd do something slightly more productive. I'll end these parentheses now.) Uh, yeah, that sentence got away from me (DOCTOR WHO QUOTE! Speaking of, I dreamed David Tennant was my gynecologist last night. He was just as sweet as you'd imagine. But even so, I was incredibly relieved when McKay woke me up before the actual exam. BACK TO THE SENTENCE). But, yeah, anyway, I'm going to write as many as I can tonight, and post one a day, so you guys can get into the groove of, you know, checking out this page once in a whiles again. (PARENTHESIS, RIGHT?! What is my deal with them?)


 Twenty minutes later: Hmm. I remember why I started hating blogging now. Uploading photos and editing them sucks up time like a Kirby vacuum salesman.

  *tapping fingers against invisible counter*


NEXT MORNING:

Okay, guys. Zero done last night. I'm still going to try to update the crap out of this blog, though. So stay tuned. To tide you over, here are some outtakes from our Christmas photo:

Lincoln kept trying to snuggle me. Which was adorable, but hard to keep a straight face for. And smiles pretty much ruin the whole get-up.

  And then Lincoln lost it. It was past his naptime, and things just went downhill really fast. I like my "concerned" face that looks mildly amused. Because that's what kind of mom I am, folks.

  STAY TUNED.

Merry Christmas from the Allreds! 2013 Edition (A Little Late)

  And to all a good night.

Rash, Day 2!

So, here are three pictures of my arm. The first picture is from the beginning of the day, the second around noon, and the last a few minutes ago. I think it's progressing quite nicely.

One . . . 

Two . . . 

THREE!

  See, it's funny 'cuz in this last one, it almost looks like it's cleared up or something. WRONG. That sucker is ALL OVER ME. Those tiny white patches? Those are the ONLY PARTS NOT RASHY. All those little spots have multiplied into what is essentially one giant spot. All over me. My face looks like it's sunburned. MY RASH IS EATING ME, GUYS.

  Fun stuff! All I can think is . . . Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me? (dontcha? Dontcha?)

Movie Quoting Win

  A friend from church told me that when her two and a half year old son is mad at her, he yells, "You will NEVER bring your family honor!"

  Like from Mulan.

  This is my favorite thing ever.

Primary Graffiti and Quotes

 For those of you who are not Mormon aficionados, "Primary" is where the eleven year olds and under go during the second and third hours of church. I teach the seven year olds, but that's not relevant to this post in any way other than that's how I get the scoop on Primary goings-on. Oh, and just so you know, "Sunbeams" are the youngest group in Primary. They're two or three, I can't remember. Anyway, ON WITH THE FUNNY!

Primary leader: What is the Holy Ghost?

Sunbeam: If ghosts scare you, you can just run away and go "AHHH!".

* * * * *

Primary Leader: Oh, one imortant announcement: teachers have next week off.

Me: Sweet!

Girl in My Class: Hey!

Me: I mean . . . we'll miss you guys.

* * * * *

And now, my favorite: Primary graffiti. Some child wrote in marker on one of the cork boards. See if you can decipher what it says.

 In case you can't read it, it says "hefle fothr Love's me."

  I spent much of my time focusing on the first two words, and concluded the child must have just been practicing random letters. Once I noticed the "Love's me", though, it quickly came together. "Heavenly Father loves me". Pretty much the most hilarious graffiti of all time. So I have decreed, so it must be.

Day 23: My First Job

   My first job was working for my Dad. My Dad is an ophthalmologist (meaning eye surgeon), and I worked as a filing clerk/gopher. I didn't mind filing or collating or any of that stuff. What I minded was that there was never ENOUGH stuff to keep me busy the whole time. I may not be the best worker, but I am a quick one, so I would burn through whatever they had for me to do, and then end up sitting around. And I hate sitting around and getting paid to do nothing.

  This was a problem for me at my other jobs, too, because I would quickly organize/fold/sweep or whatever my duties were, and then have nothing to do. And management never saw when I was dedicated to my work, plowing through without pausing. Of course not. No, they always saw me when I was looking around, trying to find SOMETHING to keep me occupied. And then they'd get huffy. I PROMISE I was trying to be a good worker! I'm just not good at looking occupied when there's nothing to truly work on. That's my problem.

  A highlight from working with my Dad:

  One summer I was also Dad's . . . scribe? I don't know what it's called, I wrote on the charts for him while he examined patients. I always felt awkward when we'd go into a new patient's room, not knowing if I should introduce myself, act like I wasn't there, etc. Dad usually ended up introducing me.

  One man, after our introduction, cheerfully said, "I see you're looking at my pee bag!"

  I was taken aback. I had not noticed any "pee bag" and was unsure how to respond. Then I noticed he was indicating to a bag with a tube that went into his pants leg. I had assumed the bag was an IV type of thing, and it wasn't unusual (since most of Dad's patients were older) for patients to be toting such a thing. But now I noticed the bag was, indeed, full of urine.

  "Oh, I, uh--" I stumbled, but he didn't seem to be looking for a response.

  "They hooked it in through my penis!" He told me happily.

  Okay, then.

Opening Night

I keep writing and re-writing this post to try and give it the effect I want, but honestly, I think I'm getting rusty, because I can't seem to do it justice.

  Long story short, opening night of "The 39 Steps", the front half of the bed collapsed. With me and the lead character sitting on it.

  We did our best to keep our composure; bracing ourselves for the strange new angle that we had to contend with, working muscles I didn't know I had in attempt not to slide off. We managed not to snicker for overly long, and put on our game faces to continue pretending to eat Styrofoam sandwiches.

  In any case, the audience seemed to love it. Afterwards, many congratulated us on keeping our composure, while a select few complimented our set designer for building a collapsible bed. Live theater, huh? Gotta love it.

  Anyway, that about sums up my weekend.

  Sorry about my lack of bugging you guys lately. Laptop issues, they should be fixed in about ten business days. Right now I'm risking my old laptop going nuclear, because the bed thing seemed so hilarious in my head. Maybe you had to be there.

Me, "Helping" During Set Building

ME: Where's the nail-remover thingy?

SET DESIGNER: You mean a hammer?

ME: No! The . . . you know, thingy? That looks like monster teeth?

SET DESIGNER: A stapler remover?

ME: Yes! Staples. Not nails. Blonde is my natural color, in case you couldn't tell.


  In my defense, I had just ingested an awful lot of paint fumes.


  Any of you guys sound like an idiot lately?

Playing Pretend

  I was thinking the other day about why I enjoy acting so much. It took me a while, but then I realized-- it's because I get to play Pretend. And it's socially acceptable! And not only do I get to play socially-acceptable Pretend, but people are PAYING to watch me do so! Come on, that's pretty freaking awesome.

  I loved playing Pretend as a kid. And I was pretty freaking good at it, if I say so myself. My best friend, Kellie, and I had numerous, elaborate pretend games. They're some of my favorite memories of my childhood.

  Some days we would be princesses at finishing school, balancing books on our heads and working our way through a random etiquette book she had.

  Other days we would line up plastic chairs, and we'd be on the Hogwarts express, wearing graduation robes and eating Hostess cupcakes/pumpkin pasties. We'd make rhyming potion that consisted of apples and caramel sauce that necessitated that we talk in rhyme for the rest of the day. For some reason the easiest thing to rhyme were insults. Exact quote: "Don't insult me, you . . . pot of pee!"

  Other days we were pokemon. I was always Vulpix and Kellie was usually Eevee. We would fight in an arena made of furniture.

  Some days we were babies, sneaking her baby sister's bottles and filling them with juice. We'd arrange her wing chairs to look like a bassinet and sit in it, garbling baby talk for hours.

  Quite a few times we were detectives. We would hide in her hall closet for hours, trying to listen in on important conversations. I think the most interesting thing we overheard was, "Robbie, will you take the trash out, please?". Our most involved 'case' was The Case of The Melted Crayons. We found a baggie of melted crayons in the street and tried to figure out how, exactly, they got that way. After a few days, we begrudgingly admitted that they probably melted because it was 100 degrees and sunny.

  One day we decided we were going to live in her bathroom and never come back out. We grabbed a bag of apples for rations and a couple of books of mad libs. We were kicked out when her brother really had to pee about an hour later.

  Other games included our being twins, mermaids, or keeping an eye on dolls that came to life when we weren't looking. Evil dolls.

  Those were the days.

 
  What do you guys miss from your childhood? If you played Pretend, what were some of your favorite games?
 

My Celebrity Encounter

  As I sat and wrote in my journal at the airport last night, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a woman sit across from me. Most of her outfit was reminiscent of something Poison Ivy might wear, but much less attractive. She also had on a camo hat that said "FRESH" in glitter lettering for reasons unknown to mankind. She immediately asked me what my sign is.

  "Libra," I said without looking up.

  "Oh, so you love to read!" She said.

  "Yes," I said, still not looking up from my journal.

  "I'm a writer!" She said cheerily. I looked up, wondering if I was, in fact, meeting an author that I knew, and would then learn a valuable lesson about judging talkative people at the airport.

  "Really? That's cool," I said, still writing while I talked.

  The woman then handed me a small paper book. And when I say "paper", I don't need paperback. I mean construction paper. The kind of book my mom would help me make when I was seven and wrote things with titles like, "Timmy the Broken Crayon", which was a total rip-off of one of my favorite books at the time. Her book had a clip-art picture of a fairy on the moon on the cover.

  I can't remember the title for the book, but I do remember that it was by Marcia Moonstar. At this point I began to pray Lincoln would push the stroller back to my area so McKay could talk to Ms. Moonstar. He's been known to have full conversations with drunk people on the metro.

  "Can you believe water is three dollars a bottle here?!" Marcia Moonstar said.

  "Mmm," I said.

  "I had some coffee earlier and now I'm a bit hyped up!" said Marcia Moonstar. Everything she said ended with an exclamation point. I was wondering whether she added cream and crack to her coffee.

  Finally, McKay and Lincoln did wander over.

  "Oh, so he's YOURS!" Marcia Moonstar said. "What's your little  boy's sign?"

  "I don't know," I said honestly, "His birthday is January 14th."

  "I think that's Capricorn!" Marcia Moonstar exclaimed.

  "Could be, sure," I said, now transcribing our conversation into my journal.

  "What are you writing?!" Marcia Moonstar said.

  "I've kept a journal since 6th grade," I said, clutching its edges, worried she might run over and snatch it out of my grasp.

  "Oh. No poetry?" She said, clearly disappointed in me.

  "No, I don't do poetry," I said.

  "Well, I write fabulous poems," She said.

  "Who's your favorite poet?" McKay asked politely.

  "ME!" She said. She then admitted she didn't read many other people's poetry. I was somehow unsurprised.

   Luckily another victim sat by Marcia Moonstar at that point and was immediately asked her sign. Upon hearing that the newcomer was a Scorpio, Marcia Moonstar said, "Oh, I have a poem that you would LOVE!" as she pulled out another paper book of poems.

In Which Lincoln and Inanimate Objects Assault Me

  Monday was a teething day. Which means it was a not-so-fantastic-and-I-kind-of-want-to-stab-something-like-styrophoam day.

  Lincoln would hop and pull at my legs while I was standing, moaning and crying like I just kicked him in the face (which I didn't, just so we're clear). So I would pick him up. Which he would respond to by bending over backwards and wailing the cry of the banshees like my touch was poison. So I would try to snuggle him. Which, naturally, caused Lincoln to thrash around and kick at me because, obviously, I WAS SMOTHERING HIM. So I would put him down. And the whole cycle would start over again.

  At the end of the day, we had a miraculous break-through: if I LAID ON THE FLOOR, it was all good. I could not SIT, which would result in more whining and crying, but I could LAY, as that  appeased His Teethingness, for reasons my tiny mind could not begin to fathom. So lay I did.

  Lincoln climbed around me like I was the best freaking jungle gym he'd ever laid eyes on. I was cool with it, and thought, "Hey, I can do this! I can lay on the ground for two hours until bedtime! I can make it through the day without stabbing a pumpkin!".

  Then Lincoln headbutted me in the nose.

  Let me just say, I HATE anything to do with my nose. I think it's sensitive about being all bulbous and weirdly flat, so anytime anything touches it, it's all, "AHHHHH, they're trying to kill me for being ridiculously shaped!" and does its painful nose cry. So, yeah, being headbutted in the nose is extremely painful, and for some reason I got weirdly excited thinking I was going to get a nosebleed. For the record, I have had one nosebleed in my entire life, and it was after I dived (dove?) into a pool as a child and I hit my brother Andrew with my nose.

  Anyhoo, while I was still reeling from nose-pain, Lincoln struck again. This time he headbutted my teeth.

  You might remember towards the end of my pregnancy when I fell out of bed and hit my teeth on my laptop. I kept screaming to McKay something along the lines of, "DID MY TEETH FALL OUT?! ARE THEY STILL THERE?".

  Teeth are gross.

  Reeling with double pain and laying in a daze, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Lincoln had moved on with his rampage and was now yanking at the stroller, which was folded up in the corner. As that stroller has already fallen on him once before, I pulled myself together to rush into my primary role as Ruiner of Fun. No sooner had I stood up then a miniature Christmas tree fell on my head.

  I am not joking.

  Any of you guys have a day like that recently? Where if it's not teeth-butting, it's miniature Christmas trees flying out of nowhere to assault you?

Middle School Crush--Cartoon Edition!

  One of my few acquaintance-friends in middle school was Wil. One "L", that was very important. He was a genuinely nice, funny, and smart guy with red hair and the customary freckles.

  Looking back, I think he's the reason I immediately liked and trusted red heads as a teenager.

  We had a few classes together. One of them was computer class, and we sat with our backs to each other. Or at least, we were supposed to. A lot of our time was spent with our chairs turned so we could chit-chat. At least, that's how I remember it.

  Finally, a girl next to us asked us if we liked each other.

  But we totally did.

(Also, from here on out, I forgot to give Wil freckles in the cartoons, and I'm too lazy to go back and re-load all the pictures, so just pretend Wil is covered in orange spots, k? Thanks)

  At the end of middle school, I expected to never see him again. He was going to the Smarty-Pants High School With Really Hard Homework, while I was going to The School With Shooting Threats Every Few Weeks.

  High School was actually a great time for me. After puberty hit EVERYONE, I was actually a pretty normal height, not the freakish giant I had been in middle school. My acne cleared up. I figured out how to make my hair not as lame. I even figured out make up to a degree. Boys had crushes on me. My confidence had never been higher.

 My senior year of high school, I visited the Smarty-Pants school to watch a friend in a musical there. I was perusing the program when I saw it.

  I immediately whipped my head toward the band area (the play was put on in a cafeteria, so there was no band pit), and I quickly spied him. At least, I was pretty sure it was him. He had changed, too. His hair was longer, and he'd grown quite a bit.

I immediately pointed him out to my friends, unable to contain my excitement. I kept asking if they thought it was him, if they thought he would remember me, etc. Finally, one of them said, "Julia, just talk to him during intermission, geez!". Intermission! Brilliant! I could hardly wait. I kept watching him during the first half, seeing if he laughed when I did, eyeing him while he played drums during the musical numbers.

Finally, intermission arrived. Suddenly shy, I meandered over, taking my time. I imagined our meeting would go something like this:

 

  After that, we would talk and laugh for the whole fifteen minutes, and we would groan when they announced that the second half was starting and we needed to take our seats. Then maybe, who knows, we would exchange numbers, maybe email . . . we would start hanging out, maybe become best friends . . .

  But that's not what happened.

  I didn't know it until then, but Band Kids are scary. They're like their own nerdy gang, ready to beat you into pulp with their retainers if you mess with one of theirs. In fact, in my head they looked something like this:

 It wasn't that bad. But it was close. Anyway, back to the story. . .

  I was crushed. My depressed state wasn't helped by the fact that everyone in the play died in the second act.

  A year or so later, I saw Wil again. It turned out he was in a band with a few of my friends, and he was at a party they were throwing.

  I'm not sure why I thought it would go better this time around. I guess I hoped the last time was a fluke. Maybe he was embarrassed to talk to me in front of his band friends or something.

 It was not a fluke.

  For some reason, I was desperate for the boy who had been so nice to me in middle school to like me again. I laughed louder, joked more, and flirted outrageously with the other boys, hoping to get his attention.

So, basically, I was the epitome of an annoying teenage girl. I can't imagine why my scheme didn't work.

  Not being mature enough to just simply ASK Wil why he was now repulsed by me, I never did figure it out. Most likely I said something stupid the last time we saw each other in middle school and conveniently forgot about it.

  Whatever the case, red heads suddenly didn't look so great anymore.

THE END