Diary entry:
"The three of us went to church today, it was my friend's daughter's christening. I don't like going to church. During the last couple of months, I've been to church on more occasions than during the last 22 years, which might seem pitiful to an average believer since I've only been there twice; when my best friend was getting married and for this christening. It definitely wasn't our day. We parked near our ex high school, on the side of a hill threatening to slide down along with the car. The wind had been blowing, so all those minutes of special care wasted on my hairstyle got blown away, literally, since I ended up looking like a Pekingese who had carelessly licked an outlet.
We entered the church and went to the front because Calamidades wanted to see the baby. Of course, being a former atheist and a current agnostic, I knew not a single prayer. That had been a real challenge at the wedding. I was the maid of honor and stood in front of the altar and the priest, along with the spouses-to-be. We were constantly being filmed and as the priest babbled, I gaped around, trying to remember the last time I had been in a church. As if my stupefied gaze caught on camera wasn't enough, the priest kept ordering some kind of prayers; prayers I knew nothing about. I tried blending in, which was pretty hard seeing that the four of us were standing alone in front of the crowd; next to me was the bride. The priest glared at me the moment I started improvising and inventing my own prayers, so I chose to stay silent throughout the rest of the mass.
Oh boy, was that man happy when settling his eyes upon me on the christening. The baby remained asleep through the entire process. I broke the silence by asking Calamidades if people clapped after the christening. Luckily I had been sane enough to ask before doing it. She nearly burst laughing. I dunno, the timing seemed appropriate for a clap, though I don't know what kind of supernatural forces would be necessary to prevent the priest from attacking me with a Bible if I had actually clapped. In addition to that, after the christening had been done and the people settled, preparing to go and take pictures, Calamidades decided to sit back down. However, the movement had been sudden and miscalculated, so she ended up thudding her ass upon the wooden handrails of the two church chairs. As if that weren't enough, she produced a really strange and incoherent sound which pushed me into a laughing fit. My insane laughter bounced against the walls of the church, most certainly pleasing the priest."
And another diary entry:
"I have only two comments for this day. Actually, I have a question and a theory. The man I'm every so often involved with sexually, my own personal chain, has an incredible ability of mystifying me. He seems simple enough and I'd say I'm rather smart, but I can't quite understand him. Few days ago, I borrowed a pair of nuts and decided to send him a decent, easygoing and sober message. I spend hours carefully deciding upon the time of sending and the content of the message, trying to suggest he crossed my mind, but nothing too serious. I asked at least 10 people for their opinion on the matter. They were unable to suggest anything smart to send to him, so I had to work on it alone. What a mistake. I had been typing that message for at least 30 minutes. Nothing seemed good, careless or interesting enough. Eventually, in a complete adrenaline fit, I typed something, forced Alecia to click the 'send' button on my behalf and when the words "message sent" appeared on my screen, I screamed and tossed the phone behind the bed. Sadly, my phone doesn't store messages after sending them, so I wasn't able to see what I had typed. I remembered it partially. I wrote something along the following lines: "Hey, I have a question. What do you like doing? There must be something and you don't look like the type of guy to collect post stamps."
Alecia nearly died laughing after hearing that. It was the stupidest message my mind could have possibly produced and yet, I still sent it. The man never answered. Of course he didn't, chances for a conversation about post stamps to develop into a stimulating one were from slim to nothing. Casual and flirting conversations cannot be born from the topic of philately. The following day I went out, drank a bit too much and sent him a message to go screw himself. Sure, to that he answered and he was all peachy, asking me where I was and filling the message with smiling emoticons. Where's the logic in that?!
We're not respectable members of society, we're apes. One of our professors had a book promotion and we were all blackmailed to attend it. In exchange for our presence, we got 2 points. If the assistant who usually teaches us knew what kind of idiots we truly were, she would have probably given us those two points without forcing us to be there.
We arrived and sat down, realizing that national TV was planning to cover this event. Two cameras were situated right in front of us. Of course, this only meant that our idiotism would be broadcast for all the decent people in the state to see. In addition to our professor, there was an eminent and famous Croatian playwright present at the promotion. During her everlasting speech, we were dying of boredom. Alecia had been busy reading "Great Expectations" and May and I were playing some kind of game where you write answers to questions without actually seeing them. When associated, these questions and random answers make interesting and funny combinations. We were giggling the whole time and we were far from being subtle. Also, we solved a mystery. One of the questions was: "Why don't they ever take us to the theatre?" and the answer was: "Because we stink."
When we got bored with that, we started paying attention but that proved too stressful so we started talking again. Alecia exchanged couple of words with Harris, who was sitting next to her and then started laughing pretty loudly. I poked her, wanting to know what was so funny. I gave her the notebook which we used to exchange messages during class and she started scribbling in it. I glanced forward and saw that eminent author giving a small speech and wondered if he had written and published something I knew of. I quietly asked Alecia that and she started laughing even harder. Confusion lasted only for a second because when I glanced down to read what she had wrote, I read: "...and because we're such uneducated peasants I asked Harris to tell me at least one book that man wrote..." Nothing more was necessary. We laughed till we were asked to settle down.
Also, somewhere during that promotion, my pen had fallen beneath the chairs. I reached down between the chairs to get it and the moment I grabbed it, I realized that my arm got stuck between them. This created additional commotion and flailing of legs in mid air. After that, when we were encouraged to ask questions, I offered some money to Alecia to ask that author to name at least three of his books. She refused, saying that the lack of alcohol in her organism was preventing her from being that shameless.
Yes, we're definitely not for public exposure.
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