Space Problems

If there's one thing I dislike it's adult males pretending to be dogs.
I have encountered this behaviour twice, once at the New Market train station and currently on this young children's television programme.
One time Joe made me watch this frightening clip from onesuch programme that included this flying head sort of thing.
Yesterday I told him about the Horrible Awful Day I had and he told me about kissing his girlfriend and telling her he loved her.
This was more annoying than the Titian's non-response.
I'll be annoyed if he does have credit.
I'll tell you about the Day.

Notes: For the last eight year life has revolved around being involved in drama productions and drama related activities.
Most of class none too fond of the person who has no stories about receiving oral sex at the cinema and hands in work on the due date. Class also doesn't enjoy penchants for dark humour, people who don't laugh at bodily functions and non-monosyllabicy.
In this class, the person who does work 20% of the time is a "goodie-good" and deserves to be shot.

Wake up feeling horrendously sick. Notice hair looks awful. Solve these problems by applying heat and narcotics to the situation. Get text from friend saying she will be catching the train that comes fifteen minutes after the normal one. Can't leave fifteen minutes later because it will make the mother late so stand around at the train station for fifteen minutes in ridiculously oversized school jacket. Catch train. No $1 Cookies in the dairy so go without. Walk to school. Friend gets drink bottle stolen at the prefect lockers. Friend stops to relay latest saga of people who talk too much about things that don't concern them. Go to drama room. Declared falsely late. Encompassed by formiddable music. Collect script which is stapled backwards. Bell rings. Interrogated about decisions regarding school social occasion attire. Giant mirror shows that I am one thousand times whiter than anyone else in the class. Put out chairs for everyone to sit on. Sit and wait. Teacher apologises for backwards script. Twenty minutes later, rest of class arrives in incorrect uniform and sit on the floor with their heads between guys' legs. Newcomers point out that script is backwards. Collective groan regarding predelivered information. Hand out pens, ready to write down parts. Have been waiting for these parts since last term. Late people in incorrect uniform given lead roles. People who recently joined the class as aren't capable of any written subjects given medium sized roles. Self and two friends given miniscule roles. Face burns. Head throbs. Latecomers celebrate and look at embarrased. Latecomers require parts read out again for emphasis. Teacher reads out parts a few more times. Unable to find logic in coming first in drama and then receiving smallest role. Teacher says roles may be swapped dependant on how people read. Realise this offer will not be relevant to me as teacher unlikely to be impressed by my reading of three lines. Class begins readthrough. Girl with part desired by myself can't contain laughter over the word 'virgin'. Topples pronounced topless. Best pronounced breast. Latecomers errupt with laughter. Continue to struggle through script, being corrected on every second word by teacher. I try to accept situation, relinquish memories of past praise and un-classrelated leading roles. Class continues to read in a monotone. Can no longer remembered why opted to be in class as it resulted in having to do past favourite subject in a small room with no teacher. Class requires explanation for line, "Who wouldn't swap a raven for a dove?". Laugh about ravens being black. I sink into a deeper state of embarrassment over not being rated more highly than these kretins. Minscule part is the role of a labourer. Requires calling a roll of the other labourers. Call roll with panache and expression in vague hope. Vague hope of promotion stops voice from cracking. Realise don't have any more lines for forty more pages. Friends discuss leaving as they have about one line each. Class continues to display their lack of talent in the department of reading. Feel ashamed. Class members complain that they have a lot of lines. Aggravates. Class member with similar part glad as she won't have to do much work and hates drama. Aggravates more. Think What Did I Do Wrongly. Class given ten minute break. Friends leave class. Teacher comes and pats on shoulder, says she hears that have often been stuck with male roles. Not in a state able to comment that yes, last year, being the only year 12 in a large group of year 13s was given the male lead in a Shakespearian production without audition. Instead say, "Oh no it's fine", in unnaturally high voice. Teacher offers a cardboard biscut. Declines. Have to leave room as can no longer contain complete despair. Friend is locked in toilets crying. Try not to cry by texting friend, who never replies. Start crying. Try to cover this. Friend says she is going to drop drama after four years and take up level 2 maths. Teacher calls everyone back. Try to look cool. Tell teacher that friend will not be returning to class. Marched back out of the room. Friend emerges from cubicle. Teacher says that the play will be recast as the reading was "fucking awful" and she thought that the latecomers could carry the play when obviously they can't. And lots of other things. Return to class. Class members imitate friend crying. Continue read through. Latecomers glare at lifted mood. Bell rings. Teacher tells everyone not to learn any lines as roles will be recast. "But I like my part!", protests girl who imitated friend and is known for abilities in having sex against a wall. Leave class. Look around for friends who had another exam. Friend tries to find out what was in the exam others have just sat but she will sit tomorrow. Can't see my friends. Can't find White Rhinoceros. Text train catching friend. He has already left. Walk to train station. Miss train. Catch next train. Walk around for a few hours. Have lunch. Catch bus. IPod runs out of battery. Arrive home. Realise forgot house key. Search for spare key. Fall asleep on hard hard couch. Feel sick again. Get texts about the Wonderful Girlfriend. Get bored of this very quickly. Eat half of bad dinner. Fall asleep again. Have to get up to check TradeMe auction. Win auction but never get payment details. Worry about this. Have annoying conversation with someone who uses capslock and excessive exclamation marks. Interrogated over school social occasion attire again. Go offline. Can't think of anything to write. Stop receiving texts about friend's excess body hair and attraction to other men. Sleep.

Of course no one read all of that.