It’s unbelievable that it’s been an entire year since I’ve been on the newspaper. And by an entire year I mean nine months. And by unbelievable I mean completely believable. I mean, it’s torture thinking about all these people in class, always bickering about how loud the music in the room should be and laughing too loudly when they play card games and, God forbid, actually working. Oh, the work! This room has either deafening silence or deafening laughter. Either way, I can’t work for thirty seconds without getting hopelessly distracted. I guess that’s the great thing about these people. There’s nothing boring or dull about them. Every day is unexpected, and my plans are always out of whack.

Nevertheless, I’d like to say to this class before they split their separate ways, whether it be to college or some dumpster in New York, thank you. I’ve had such a blast working on this newspaper and am so excited and privileged to be serving as Co-Editor in Chief next year. I’ll be alongside Topanga McBride, who will undoubtedly keep me in line lest I change the name of the newspaper to ‘Bubblegum Milkshakes’ like I’ve always dreamt of.

The following leftovers from writing “Tales from the Litterbox” is a tribute to the past nine months, the best nine months of my life, in hopes that it will inspire greatness in the next best nine months of my life, and so on.

2-19-13

Fjfjfjfjjfjfjsflkdjfqiowe Write something else. You need to write something not cheesy or pathetic or feminist because you’re not even a feminist—you prefer males. This is just ridiculous; you’re a writer and you don’t know what to write. You need a lot of therapy and a bath and maybe a smoothie. BLAH, but you can’t write about smoothies or baths or therapy, you have to talk positive. Smoothies are positive. But someone might think they’re promoting feminism by promoting fruit, and you know we’d all hate that.

3-4-13

jkl;asjiofjiosefawij BEAUUUTIFUL. Today is the day that the music came back to life as a zombie. Thank you Topanga for your contribution to LOOOOVE.

I mean, am I the only one who believes that my grandfather’s contribution to war efforts are my pride as well? What? My grandfather wasn’t in any war. I SPEAK BLASPHEMY. Whatever. Woah. I use a lot of caps lock. I mean… I use A LOOOT of CApS lOCk. :8 Barf face.

4-4-13

Logan thought of your description. People are yelling. Haley is slowly watching her body die and not doing anything but laughing. And now Logan is repeating the procedure. Like a genius. We love him anyway

We like the word ‘attitude’. What of it? Haley doesn’t like my awesome phrases.

All life is sacred. Don’t eat the yellow snow.

Topanga is working very hard. At researching her last name. What does it mean, Topanga? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Woah. She’s actually doing something related to school. “College stuff”. This impresses me. I can’t do college stuff. It depresses me.

BASK. Bask is a good word. Chandler wishes for you to bask in her glory. What are other cool words? Flabbergast. (The people behind me don’t like that word) Pneumonia. But only because it’s hard to spell. I know this because I couldn’t spell it; word check does all the work nowadays.

Anna, don’t worry. People care. Logan is not the only one that we’re mean to; he’s just the easiest target. Poor Log-Dog. Or logdog. Or Logdog… Log Dog… Nicknames are stinkers to spell too. Ethan doesn’t have internet. *weepage of sad sadness*

Chandler needs surgery apparently. I can’t get any more information from listening with one ear, as the other one is listening to Vic Mignogna. I will not take it out, even for enlightenment.

Topanga looks younger on camera. But she looks pale. Especially when she’s making herself a skull-face.

4-9-13

Topanga is impressed. She clapped at the appropriate time. Topanga is pushing me. I hate it. And now she’s getting in my personal bubble. I’m scared. And apparently I have a line on my nose. Poor line; always being ridiculed, never accepted for its inner beauty. Topanga is very vain and wants to write an essay about riding tractors to get college scholarships. I think she should start looking for new scholarships. Or just calm down; we’re Juniors. Why is she looking for scholarships? I AM BEFUDDLED.

You can tell who I sit next to by who I constantly grieve about. That’s right. AMBER.