So we had the music concert with the guys last night. It went on so late though; I only got home at like quarter to twelve and finally got to sleep at half past. Thank god I didn’t have to wake up early for school today, I got a nice long lazy sleep-in. Even though my internal body clock and those damn pigeons residing on the roof outside my room woke me up with their insane cooing about ten minutes after I usually get up on weekdays. Which totally sucks. Learn how to live with your roommates, people! But anyway. That’s another story.

I went on several massive highs and just as many exhausted lows. During interval I was looking over the balcony at all the little people beneath (Simpsons quote: “Those people down there look like ants! Wait a minute, they ARE ants!”) and thinking how goddamn tempting it was to spit over the edge. (“100 points if you hit the bald guy on the head!”) I think it was the combination of being around so much testosterone and the fact that I have been acting sensible for way too long that made me go a little psycho. I just wanted a chance to be juvenile and immature! Of course my strait-laced friends were all like, don’t do it, that’s disgusting! So I compromised and waited until everyone had left before I actually did it. It was such an anticlimax though, just standing there watching the gobs of spit slowly fall to the carpet below. Yeah, I think I definitely went a bit psycho there…

We have decided that Hot Dude is probably a dickhead. This is due to the fact that he spent most of the night AND the day rehearsal madly flirting with DL despite the fact that he is in no way single (someone that hot cannot possibly be unattached – anyway, I overheard his friends mention a girlfriend trying to call him) and neither is she. I suppose some of the blame should be apportioned to her, as the cradle-snatching DL is a total slut and apparently got with three different guys at the school musical’s afterparty this year. And she’s leading him on too; I overheard her saying that she would never go out with someone who’s such a shortarse. Seriously though, jealousy aside, I don’t know what he sees in someone like her. But damn. I knew it was too good to be true – ‘the beautiful people’ can’t be smart and athletic and have great personalities as well. It’s the law of physics! It simply can’t be done! If it happened then the sky would fall down and the world would explode! I should have guessed anyway, coz no offence or anything, but the whole choirboy thang was a dead giveaway.

I spent most of the evening perving on Xylophone Boy (who I have decided to also christen The Percussionist or Little Drummer Boy, minus the ‘little’ part, because little he ain’t unless you’re talking about how he looks adorably like he hasn’t hit puberty yet) who is so bloody hot!!! He’s in the stage band – on the (really really funky shiny and red) drums – that by the way played the most gorgeous little jazz piece complete with happy solos, especially one on the drums (!), and a big frenetic finale that made me want to get up and do the jitterbug or something. I really admire people who can play the drums really well, because not only do you have to be über-coordinated but it also takes a hell of a lot of finesse to make the sound blend in with the rest of the music. Coz when you have people play inexpertly on the drums it just sounds harsh and overpowering and that is so not the sound you want. But he was really, really good on the drums. Like, he was the school’s star drum player or something, because he was an integral part of just about every ensemble that required a percussion instrument. Not to mention drool-worthily cute. And tall. And smart, because it’s one of the schools where you have to have a prerequisite amount of intelligence to get in. M-I-G-H-T-Y fiiiine. Aaargh! He is sooo eligible! It’s not fair!!! I mean, right now he is cute (as in pretty, oh so pretty, oh so pretty) but in about three years times he is going to be HHHOT. And then he’ll most likely get a grotesquely swollen ego from being constantly surrounded by swooning and/or preening girls à la the Hot Dude. As you do. And what a pity that would be. But oh well. One day, when I get rich and famous, I will (hopefully) have my share of the pretty boys…

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