Oh, uh...

Turns out there's a whole 'nother half hour of this class left. Hurrah! (If you haven't noticed, I like saying Hurrah. A lot.) So, I get to blab for a while more.

For some reason, Penguin and I, although we are entering seventh grade after summer break is over, are still in a Girl Scout troop. Our Scouts have stuck together for a very long time. I think the only reason any of us stays is because our parents are awesome enough to bring us all for a trip to Six Flags at the end of each school year.

Spoilsport says she wants to join in seventh grade. Don't ask me why - she's too chicken to even go on the rides at Disney World, and believe me, those rides are pretty bad. I told her this, and she practically had my head off.

Every time she gets so mad at me that she tells me she hates me, I ask her why she's my friend at all. That's when she gets confused, and while she is, I pat her on the head and walk away. By the time I come back, she's forgotten the whole thing.

Sometimes I wonder why Spoilsport is considered insane at all. She tries as hard as she can to be utterly normal, but always ends up right back where she started; utterly P.O.'d. Maybe people think she's insane because of her anger. It wouldn't surprise me, considering I'm the one who faces it most often.

I wonder if you guys have guessed what I look like. Weirdo psychic people.

Penguin has this game called Tsuro where you've got this board and you lay down cards in front of your playing piece, and if the path you create leads off the board, you are out. It's very entertaining and addicting. It's also the origin of the loophole song.

Did you know that I have alter egos? I think those are the main reasons why I'm considered insane. I'd give you their real names, but where's the fun in that? I'll just call them Philosopher, Boy, and Eccentric.

Philosopher is a philosopher. Boy is a boy. Eccentric is eccentric. Eccentric is also the creator of the Gertrude Dance (Bet it's easy to guess her name now, huh?).

The way you can tell if I've changed egos is what I look like. If I'm stroking my chin, looking ponderous, I'm Philosopher (My big sister tells me that for my next birthday, she's going to give that ego a false beard.). If I have my hair tucked up into a baseball cap, I'm Boy. If I have my hair up is a crazy sort of 'do, I'm Eccentric.

Oh. NOW it's time to go. Well, Sayonara!