Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Oh. Shit. Homeroom.

All right, I'll be honest. I'm not down with high school. I never was.

Hated it. Hated cheerleaders and pep rallies and republican-cowboy-buckle-belt-wearin' sychophants. Hated every last minute of fakeness, cruelty, materialism and southern-fried morality.

In fact, during pep rallies, I kinda imagined squeezing the heads of every flag girl, of every dance team member (sorry, old friend), of every single student who actually wore school color. I imagined squeezing their heads so very violently and so very cruelly that the gymnasium would wind up looking like a set on a Tarentino movie. This is true. I am glad college and marijuana happened. I am extremely glad that I learned to ride a motorcycle and smoke and drink vodka straight. I am especially glad of my introduction to the classics in college, as well as hippie protests. I had found my pack, and we were dirty, smelly, high and in love with life.

There is good news. The good news is, I don't give a shit about high school, and with the exception of one person, I have not kept in touch with anybody therein. And I'm completely okay with that. It's nice to hear from that one person (my dearest and oldest friend) about so-and-so getting married or so-and-so accomplishing something fantastic (like the guy, forever high, who slept through AP History becoming a doctor). But all in all, I could totally erase those four years and never look back. It was torture. It was hell.

And now, I live in Detroit. I'm covered in tattoos, I'm married to this fantastic guy who adores me and my bitchiness and I'm planning my next act of insane knitting. High school? Old news.

Until recently. Until I found the blog of a friend who I lost touch with, and then found all these other blogs, and left one comment here and another there, and now...high school is back in session, except this time, they're ADULT republicans with ADULT campaigns on Jesus. Should I have even shown my face? I think not!

Fuck. I might have to change the address to my blog. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck, if I do say so myself. And I do.

Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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