Finals all up in Vocal’s grill. Well it’s not finals time yet, but it’s about time we get a grade in this class. We’re only really graded on finals and solos, so any grade is a big grade. Same Nick as yesterday’s still up there and Shively’s giving him so much crap. YOLO, right Nick? Well it’s pretty much death row, desperately awaiting each of our fates. Instead of death, however, we get something much, MUCH worse: sight reading and melodic minor scales. Sends shivers down my spine.

Hey, Bruce, check it out! This is my 10th chapter, isn’t it! That’s way cool. Well, as long as you count chapter 3, of course. Honor truly has a way with words.

My yearbook is gasping for air from all the signatures. Life tip: whenever you’re feeling down, read yearbook signatures. Or poop. Poop’s pretty damn hilarious. Am I weird, Bruce? What do you think of me? Oh, I’m like a bagel? Like a ninja? Like a pirate? Like chocolate? Like a turtle? Like banana cream pie? LIKE A CHOCONANANJARATAGEL?? Or, just a weirdo, maybe. Well, screw your opinions, Bruce. This is MY book. YOU have no power here.

Remember when I said yearbook signatures make you feel better? Well, some people are VERY, VERY weird. Oi, do I feel violated right now.