None of the people who went to my H.S. on livejournal seemed familiar to me, but some were scary. I am glad I don't list my high school in my profile. I don't want these people finding me.

Your mom is awesome.

My mom is awesome.

Actually, so is my dad. He taught at one of the colleges that I mentioned above (don't want to give a specific). He left there after the administration decided not to pursue accreditation. It was one of the reasons he took a position as a professor there. He was to develop their Learning Disabilities Education program for accreditation. He felt like he had no point after they decided not to pursue that.

My parents are Christians, but they're educators to the core. And they wanted us to have the best education possible, and did what they needed to for that.

I went to a Southern Baptist college. Dancing on campus was not allowed. I mean, organized dances. You could certainly dance on your own and no one cared. Clubs would host dances off campus as fundraisers.

I never heard the term 'baptistic'. Did you just make it up to describe them, or is it a real thing.

Nope. As far as I understand it, it's kind of, "our ideas come out of the Baptist stream (as opposed to, say, the Pentecostals), but we don't want to be associated with the denomination in any way."

As far as the Baptist proms go, their schools around here tend to be a lot like the school in Saved -- very much of the shiny mega-church, Christian rock, slick and appealing trend in evangelical culture. My in-laws won't join any church that allows recorded music in services, because you never know if someone might have snuck some wrong message in there later on in the tape and you can't check the tape out beforehand because then the tape-checker-outer would be at risk of hearing it.

(Although, honestly? Can't remember if Partha is male or female. Must get out yearbook.)

Male! Hee.

(And brenda, thanks for taking a stand, because I'm not good at that. I think it's totally cool too, and I love when that shit happens. A few months ago, a similar thing happened where an LJ friend mentioned me in her journal, and the ex-boyfriend of another, totally unconnected friend of mine was all, "How do YOU know him?" And I was all, "What, how do YOU know her?!" And, yes, they went to high school together. It was crazy times.)

Dear Mother of BMW Driver,

It is very nice of you to buy your 17 year old a $50,000 car. I understand your frustration that when the car needs repairs, she is unable to rent a vehicle from Enterprise or even get one of the free service loaners. However, just because you and your husband are stupid enough to buy a 17 year old a $50,000 doesn't mean that we have to. Also? Just because an Enterprise rental probably doesn't cost as much as your spoiled brat's car, doesn't mean it's "not worth a penny." Get a grip and fuck off.

Love,
Your friendly neighborhood service receptionist.

****************

Dear Idiot Lady Who Popped a Curb in her 540,

I understand that since you were so busy applying the antibiotic cream and scar treatment to the incisions from your newest facelift, it made it hard to watch out for that large curb that has the nasty habit of popping out of nowehere to attack your precious vehicle and cause it to now drive "all crazy". However, because your car is "all crazy" doesn't constitute an emergency and it sure as fuck doesn't mean that I will be telling people who have had appointments for over a week that they mean less to us than you do. Yes, BMW is all about service and we would be very poor at providing that service if we were to tell someone that because you popped a stich in your new ass, we weren't going to rotate their tires. I think you might have been exposed to too many narcotics and are, apparently, constantly high.

Love and prayers that this facelift takes and doesn't leave you looking like Lon Chaney. Again.,
Your not as friendly as she was ten minutes ago neighborhood BMW service receptionist

**************

Dear Jackass Masquerading as an Actual Person,

The ruder you are to me, the later and later your car will actually get in here. Swear to gods, if you were nicer, I would have tried to fit you in sooner to get your mudflaps attached to the back of your MiniCooper, but you, sir, were a shit head. And now? You'll have to deal with the estra mud on the back of said MiniCooper for an extra two days. Maybe when you get here, I'll rub your face in it and call if a Revivifying Facial Mask. I hear it's great for pore-cleansing. Maybe it'll cleanse your soul and you can stop lurking in corners at night, scaring children and old ladies.

Love and kisses and foot in your ass,
Your pissed as fuck all BMW service receptionist.

My cat is asleep on the sofa right behind my shoulders and he's snoring. It's the cutest sound ever. It's a wee snore.

t hearts Aimee

Timelies, all. Re: parents in school. Not only did my mother teach at my junior high, I had her for 7th grade math. Which, though it sounds horrifying, was really okay. I was wildly unpopular and mostly ignored or scorned, and it was nice having someone who loved me close by if I was having a particularly crappy day. I can't even imagine how difficult it must have been for her to see me that unhappy for three years.

My car got towed yesterday! Because apparently I was blocking someone's driveway! It cost me a lot of money and made me sad!

I'll post a more detailed account in LJ eventually, but I wanted to tell you guys.

Oh, poor P-C.