Close Reading

Right.

So.

My English class. I'm kinda getting to the point where I just want to punch this class in the face. Is that bad?

We're expected to do something called a "Close Reading" today. Wikipedia it. I did, but I still don't know how the hell to do one. Basically, from what I can tell, it's reading. But, you have to READ EVERY LETTER OF EVERY WORD BECAUSE OH MY GAW EVERY WORD WAS CHOSEN BY GANDALF TO THROW THE RING INTO THE FIRES OF MOUNT DOOM. Except here, there's no cute hobbits or bitchy elves, which really takes all the fun out of the whole situation.

Anyway. I'm not doing it right now. Mostly because I need to continue Googling "Close Reading" until I get how the hell to complete my assignment.

Not the point.

My point here is about pizza. Why does it taste so much better the next day when it's fresh out of the fridge?

I think I should start a business that sells next-day-cold-fridge-pizza. I'll be called Next-day-cold-fridge-pizza-mart. It'll be a big hit, I can tell. I know these things. I have tarot cards that tell me things.

That was my psychic face.

Moving on.

My other point is about the teenage wardrobe. More specifically, sweatpants.

I hear the word and my teeth itch. I think of a blonde teeny-bopper in sweats and uggs, whose massive purse ruptures my spinal cord when she shoves by me. Sweatpants are one step up from wearing pajamas in public, which, side note, should be considered a capitol offence against humanity. I don't care if you're tired. STOP it. Your pajamas are offending my eyes.

Anyway. Sweatpants. They make my teeth itch, which is, let me tell you sonny, super uncomfortable. But they're a lot like the Bermuda triangle. You know if you go there, time and space will split and swallow you whole like a slice of person pie. But you're curious, so you hop on a boat anyway and off you go.

I was wandering through a store yesterday looking for jeans, and what do I come across? A rack of 10 dollar sweatpants. Out loud I'm all, "HAH. Blonde teeny-bopper will be here to spend all her lunch money on more stupid sweatpants!"

But in my head I was all, "Gee. These look really comfy."

Long story short, a pair of sweatpants followed me home, and I'm wearing them RIGHT NOW. And they are  the most comfortable pants I've worn since that time I wore pants made of baby hair and clouds. Don't ask where I shop, I'm sworn to comfortable, baby hair secrecy.

So, blonde teeny-bopper, I'm sorry. You were really on to something with these sweatpants. But you really do need to stop carrying small children in your purse and wearing your super comfortable sweatpants outdoors. It's giving me a sad, and you're scaring the elderly folk with your pants. They think it's like that time they dreamed they went outside and no one was wearing pants, only worse, because now everyone is wearing sweatpants.

On another note, why are they called sweatpants? Are they so comfortable they make you sweaty? I haven't worn mine long enough to know.

Well, I'll let you know.

Do we see what "close reading" does to me? It makes me all

I have to return to raping Google now.

Love,
Megan