So most of you guys are curious about my Spanish class…ugh…don’t be….it really isn’t very funny, no matter how entertaining I make it sound.
First of all, Nellie is seriously dysfunctional or something. She’s always two minutes late for class because she has “things” to do in the bathroom, merci to Chrissa…or I should say gracias to Chrissa…
Anyway, like me, Chrissa finds it repulsive (yay…I used a favorite word of les americaines!) to pick your nose in school, so she suggested that Nellie do that in the bathroom. Well, that is why Nellie is LATE.
It IS a good thing because she doesn’t pick her nose around me; it’s a bad thing because I have to hear her get yelled it…ugh! OK…why would you want to pick your nose anyway? Yuck.
Anyway, when she entered class today, she was wearing the most god-awful outfit ever- a dark pink (what she calls a)“hooded apparatus” (a.k.a une robε -a dress) with the hood over her head. She wore light pink tights underneath the dress. To top it off, she wore purple sunglasses and a huge red bow. It didn’t match at all; those silly Americans! Yeah. To put it to you one way, it was not fresh from the runway.
The funny thing was, the dress was really short, and Ava definitely took notice of that. When Nellie walked in the room, Ava shouted “TIGHTS ARE NOT PANTS!” I lost it and died laughing; Liz did, too. Being French and knowing proper style and everything, I know it’s really trashy to wear tights as pants…if your top doesn’t cover your behind (Nellie’s did….but barely).First of all, Nellie is seriously dysfunctional or something. She’s always two minutes late for class because she has “things” to do in the bathroom, merci to Chrissa…or I should say gracias to Chrissa…
Anyway, like me, Chrissa finds it repulsive (yay…I used a favorite word of les americaines!) to pick your nose in school, so she suggested that Nellie do that in the bathroom. Well, that is why Nellie is LATE.
It IS a good thing because she doesn’t pick her nose around me; it’s a bad thing because I have to hear her get yelled it…ugh! OK…why would you want to pick your nose anyway? Yuck.
Anyway, when she entered class today, she was wearing the most god-awful outfit ever- a dark pink (what she calls a)“hooded apparatus” (a.k.a une robε -a dress) with the hood over her head. She wore light pink tights underneath the dress. To top it off, she wore purple sunglasses and a huge red bow. It didn’t match at all; those silly Americans! Yeah. To put it to you one way, it was not fresh from the runway.
During class, Christelle was practically pleading to borrow a Sharpie from someone. I had no idea why she needed one so badly, but she did. I hoped she wasn’t planning on giving herself a Sharpie tattoo; those things scream lame. I did that when I was eleven…grow up thirteen-year-olds who still do that!
I then overheard a conversation between Ava and Liz; they had a “plan”, which translates as “we are up to no good”. Christelle asked for a Sharpie once more, and Liz gave her a dead-serious look and said, “Um…what are you talking about? Don’t you know, silly Frenchy, Sharpies are illegal in the eastern United States because of students abusing them. The nearest place you can get one is northern Pennsylvania!”
“Oh! That is so dumb! You stupid Americans! Ugh! This is why France is better! American laws do not make sense!”
I hit my head with my Spanish book. How flipping stupid. SHE ACTUALLY BELIEVED THEM! I really thought she was smart, since she’s French like me, but now, I really am starting to question her IQ. Why would anyone believe those Americans? Mon dieu! I told her they were playing a cruel joke on her, but she didn’t believe me! What’s worse is that Ava, Hayley, and Liz went to the other side of the classroom to ask Marisol and Mia if Sharpies were illegal. I guess they got in on it, too, because they came over and told Christelle they were totally anything but legal!
Marisol and Mia are the types of girls that I refer to as mainstream Americans. They listen to all the popular songs on the radio, wear name brand clothing (NOT haute couture), take Spanish, and totally fangirl (Ava taught me that word- it means to obsess and scream about something you love, or type in all capitals) over Justin Bieber and whatever other celebrity is supposed to be “hot”. Speaking of Mia, I love her hair. My hair is red, too, but not pretty…like hers. I’ll trade her hair. The two Josefinas in my class are also mainstream girls, but they wear vintage or old time clothing. (Thank goodness they can be original when it comes to fashion.)
Come to think of it, the Josefina with short hair (that I graciously cut) is just a tiny bit on Nellie's level; she doesn’t even know my name! She calls me Sybille! She was my partner for a Spanish project, and here’s how the discussion went:
Josie: “Hey, Sybille! What’s up?”
Moi: “It’s SABINE.”
Josie: “Oh, sorry, Sybille!”
Really. It never ends. I think she’s always going to call me Sybille…if she does decide to call me by real name, I’ll inform everyone. I doubt it will happen, though. Anyway, how an you confuse the names Sabine and Sybille? It’s…like…impossible.
Oui, that is my Spanish class for you. That’s the kind of intelligence I have to deal with. Or lack of intelligence. Tu choissis; you choose.
P.S. Je m’appelle Sabine! Or, if Josie is reading…Me llamo Sabine. (SEE, JOSIE?!?!? I DID WORK ON THAT SPANISH ASSIGNMENT. You can't say I didn't.)
~Sabine
