Ridiculosity.

Admin, thou hast gone too far!

Kay, agendas as hall passes? Stupid as that is, I don't even care that much. What really irks me is the whole "no birthdays" thing. I mean, really, you might as well cancel Christmas, New Year's, and Lincoln's birthday in the process. Cake is distracting. So are balloons. Well, no shit. So is a birthday. Do we no longer exist? Is the quintessential anniversary of our very being insignificant, not to be hallowed as it has been for the past umpteen years?

Nope.

Yes, we are no longer allowed to bring food to school anymore. Food is distracting. Eating in class is a mortal sin! So are pieces of rubber stretched out by internal force. Wait...

I won't go there. Really, I sometimes like to bring random confections to school as lunch, didn't you know that? I bake entire batches of brownies for a mid-day meal... of course, I eventually get full, so I hand out dozens of pieces to my friends and teachers. In plastic wrap. Individually. With ribbons and bows. Is there something wrong with that?

As for balloons, well, some balloons piss me off anyway. The really pretentious bunches of balloons that fly in everyone's faces no matter where you are and scream, "Hey, bitch, it's my birthday! Celebrate me." Those are stupid. Singing balloons are lame, too. Still, balloons are sometimes considered gifts in their very nature, or at least a part of a gift. *gasp* Are we not allowed to give gifts? Gifts are distracting. Shit. We should ban those, too. And they contribute to littering! All that gift wrap sucking up space in our trash cans... goodness gracious. Them seagulls must love shiny gift wrap.

Admin has turned into a mass of Puritans. The office might as well be a nunnery, and Peterson is Mother Superior. Or rather, Mother Superiority Complex. I've never seen anyone more power crazy than this. Behold! As CHS turns into a clump of silent, dismal hallways and equally as silent, dismal students. The days of celebration with cake and balloons and glory alike are gone, replaced by the docile nature of our implicit Vow of Silence. Old Celebration was a tall chap, his slightly crooked glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose as we shaved his head bald and then shipped him off to the War. How he enjoyed freedom, and how Freedom enjoyed him.

Someone can kiss my asymptote.