The GSA bake sale was quite a success. We raised around 200 bucks and attracted rather a lot of lesbians coming from a wedding who were thrilled that we were out there, and wanted to know all about us. So we now have a gig talking to a Lutheran church sometime in the future, to which I am sending one of the freshmen, with notes (at her request, not imposed by my megalomania) about how supporting civil rights is important.
I also completely lost my temper at said bake sale. There is a certain GSA member, we'll call him Shithead, who has repeatedly offended me, and hasn't even managed to learn that pissing off the person most likely to punch you is a bad idea. Here's what happens: Shithead will ask a reasonable question, such as "What's the distinction between transvestite and transsexual?" and I will attempt to answer him. He then proceeds to yammer about what he thinks the answer is, in the process almost always running though the greatest hits of stupid and offensive shit people think about the trans community while I am trying to answer his goddamn question. The speech pattern is irritating enough, but for what he's yammering to be offensive as well as badly timed is too much. So, what happens quite frequently is that I lose my temper completely, shriek like a lunatic and he cowers. This would be all well and good, except that then Shithead does it again. This happened at the bake sale. I came within six inches of punching the little fucker, but didn't, and have decided instead to get him ousted from the GSA for being offensive, insensitive, useless and a general obstruction to doing useful activist type things. (He's the same one who thought that we shouldn't offend the Boy Scouts, presumably out of fear for his pasty little ass. He fails to see that I am more of a threat to the unbruised state of his pasty ass when he spews conciliatory bullshit than any Boy Scout.) I have also planned to secretly have him whacked.
School is still trying to kill me. We have the US History AP test coming up, which is a stress machine. I'm attempting to remain calm, but that's difficult when surrounded by yammering classmates halfway through their fourth espresso and third nervous breakdown. I am resolved that this will not cause me to panic. I'm going to look over my notes again, get some sleep, and drink my normal amount of coffee. So there, AP test.
Summer still beckons, the eternal tease of spring persists. 36 days, including weekends, until school's out. 36 days until I can sleep normally, have free time, enjoy my job fully (because I won't be half asleep doing it), and see The Girlfriend regularly.
My eternally gullible French class persists. I managed to convince one girl at the beginning of the year that I chew on my pens because I'm trying to quit smoking. She wouldn't leave me alone about the pen-chewing (who knew it was so fascinating?), so I made shit up, as per usual. She then spent a week talking to me about how I'm too young to be smoking, so I told her I was lying. That got me left alone slightly more. Today I convinced the girl behind me, who's entirely too tightly-wound, that I'm a complete pothead. I didn't actually say anything to this effect, I merely mentioned that in order to make pot brownies, one must infuse the pot through some sort of fat in order to release the THC. I know this due to innumerable stoner friends, and the fact that the library has a copy of The Cannabis Cookbook. However, wound-too-tight-girl is convinced I know this because I'm the heir apparent to Cheech and/or Chong. I did not disabuse her of this notion, because it makes me laugh.
Evil Tranny, off to study.
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