I didn’t do a post last week, because I was returning to college after a break that was nowhere near long enough. I figured I could add all the extra hilarity this week, but now I’m sick. I am full of mucus, and all I have to comfort myself are 30 glasses of orange juice and John Green.
But we’re not here to comfort me in my misery; we’re here to make it worse! So let’s get going, shall we?
Honestly, this chapter is a first in that I almost didn’t hate it, but at the same time hated it more than all the rest. I know some previous chapters were almost tolerable (primarily because Mr. Psycho wasn’t there), and I’d be lying if I said the lack of Gus didn’t make this much more enjoyable than the previous chapters, but it’s somewhat less rage-inducing than last time, and is occasionally not-bad. At one point it’s even . . . good.
We’re just going to pretend this is on time, okay?
In my defense, it’s not like this chapter is especially interesting. Just lots and lots of flirting topped with a delicious cherry of stupidity. But last week she was momentarily separated from Mr. Psycho, so we’ll be spared the snotty one-liners masquerading as relatable teenage dialogue for a few pages:
“Yeah, people keep saying my other senses will improve to compensate, but CLEARLY NOT YET. Hi, Support Group Hazel. Come over here so I can examine your face with my hands and see deeper into your soul than a sighted person ever could.”
Okay, this is a little late; I was applying for grad school, so my weekend looked a lot like this:
I was also procrastinating because this chapter, despite its jaw-droppingly stupid ending, just isn’t that interesting. And me being bored is still boring. But hey, I’m paid (not really) to be funny (not really), so we’ll just work with what we’ve got, hmm? Strap in!
Last week, we enjoyed watching My Former Favorite Character Who Took a Sharp Nosedive in Likability and General Not-Being-a-Douchebag (Isaac for short) have a gigantic freakout because his girlfriend dumped him. It was very emotional, and surely our heroes will still be overwhelmed with pity and concern for his well-being.
I did not speak to Augustus again for about a week. I had called him on the Night of the Broken Trophies, so per tradition it was his turn to call. But he didn’t. Now, it wasn’t as if I held my phone in my sweaty hand all day, staring at it while wearing my Special Yellow Dress, patiently waiting for my gentleman caller to live up to his sobriquet. I went about my life: I met Kaitlyn and her (cute but frankly not Augustinian) boyfriend for coffee one afternoon; I ingested my recommended daily allowance of Phalanxifor; I attended classes three mornings that week at MCC; and every night, I sat down to dinner with my mom and dad.
And of course you called Isaac to make sure he was okay? I mean, I think the guy’s a borderline-creepy moron who doesn’t understand how love works, but apparently you don’t, so if you care about him at all, wouldn’t you want to maybe follow up on that whole insane breakdown thing? Maybe make sure he hasn’t killed himself? Distract him from the fact that he’ll soon have as many functional eyes as girlfriends?
4 out of 5 read-ologists recommend this WordPress.com site. ups and downs of writer's insanity and day to day life. I will write whatever makes the voices happy, for a writer that ignores her inner voices is merely a mental breakdown waiting to happen. Keeping the voices happy and creating new worlds for them to play in is my main goal.