There’s a guy in my class named Eamon and he’s from Nashville, USA. I learned the term “brain fart” from him.
It was English and we were doing exercises where we had to write what a person does. For example, if the worksheet said “drives a plane,” we’d write “pilot”. So Eamon was doing “mends and installs water pipes,” and he was going to write “plumber”. But he was writing the question first. He said, “…waatter piiipppeeesss is a plummmm… plums are good, Charlie.” Then he stared at his work and laughed.
“What?” Charlie asked.
“I just had a brain fart!”
In Aus we call them mental blocks. But anyway.
I’ve been having brain farts all day. I had a brain fart in Maths, where Madame MacGillivray asked what vingt et un mille trois cent quatre-vingt cinq was in English. My brain farted and I said, “…Two?”
It was not at all two. I wasn’t even close. (It was 21, 395.)
In Drama Miss Schoenheimer asked me how to engage my body and I said, “…Ouvrez vos derriere.” Luckily, she didn’t speak any French, so she didn’t know I said, “Open your butt.”
In HPE, the teacher (whatever her name is) showed me how to throw a Vortex a long distance. When it was my turn, I threw it about twenty centimetres.
I even had a brain fart at Lunch, and this is the most embarrassing story. The bell rang for Lunch and I thought it was home time, so I went all the way to the main gate (which is a really long way away because the campus is huge). A teacher said, “Hey, where’s your leaving slip?” I said, “Isn’t it hometime?” He said, “Nah, it’s Lunch.”
So I went all the way back to class. And you know how heavy my bag was? Super heavy!
See, I was meant to go to Rachel’s house for a sleepover but yesterday she complained of a sore tummy after realising she left her sports uniform at home and then she went home. I knew I suspected something. Rachel’s mum told my dad over the phone that Rachel was all good at nighttime, eating her dinner and ice cream. Then apparently, it came back in the morning because it was “on-and-off”.
I knew Rachel had little tears in her eyes when she left her uniform because she was so scared, but three people also forgot their uniform and did not cry. Dad suggested a connection to Rachel’s mum between the sports uniform and the stomach ache. She had a talk with Rachel and found out that it was, in fact, the case, and kept using the ache excuse so that she wouldn’t have to go to school.
So now we’re not having a sleepover and I have back problems for nothing. My bag was ten kilos. I freaking WEIGHED it!
Brain farts and Rachel have one thing in common. You can’t do anything about them.
Oh, and one more thing. I just realised that all my books are fantasy, and I’d never be able to make a book without fantasy interesting. So I decided to do a high school drama with a little fantasy.
It’s about a girl who is having bad luck at school and buys a charm bracelet. She touches a book or a poster or has a dream, whatever, but the next morning a two-inch-tall character from ancient Egypt is sitting in her room. This little person also discovers she has a strange power and wishes to go to school with the girl because it is her dream. She helps her through drama, losing friends, gaining friends, and meeting those of the opposite gender. I just need your help and I will write all about it in another post.
Catch you later, alligators!
PS. Je m’appelle Nicola. J’ai onze ans. J’habite a Queensland en Australie. Je suis tres bien en francais. Aujhourd’hui est le trois fevrier deux mille douze. Merci beacoup. Oh, et moi, je suis comme ci comme ca. Et toi?
Lol. No Google translate used.
Au revoir for real.