Peanut Butter

I've never been so bored in my entire life. And trust me...that's saying a lot. For some reason, I'm a champion at getting myself into boring situations. That being said, this one is by far the most antagonizingly, yawn- inducing encounter I've ever had.

It's compo time again.* 3rd and final time of my life. I can't really say I'm going to miss them though. In any way. Ever.

*Compos are tests French kids take in every subject once a trimester to see how much crap (incredibly useful knowledge) they've retained throughout the year. And in my case, as shocking a this may seem, I've retained nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

It's not really my fault though, seeing as for the first 3 months of my school year, everyone was speaking alien tongue, and it was all I could do to make sure I was on the right page of the book.

But alas, Brooke just ain't that sharp. I know, you're caught completely off guard, but please close your mouth; you're embarassing me.

This particular day in compo week is comprised of 4 hours of geography followed by 4 hours of math. In other words, 8 hours for Brooke to sit here twidling her thumbs, and think about totally irrelevant things until with any luck at all, the bell rings.

It's 2:30 pm. Meaning I wrote down every single last piece of information I know about the geography of France... (10 minutes and a whole half a page later, that subject was taken care of) and I spent the remaining 3 hours and 50 minutes sketching numerous animals, trying to convince myself that I have some artistic talent. Eventually I had to give up on that one too. My sad attempt at an elephant convinced me otherwise.

Now here I am, an hour into the math compo, playing a rather intense game with myself called, "How Long Can I Stare at the Proctor Before I Make Them Uncomfortable and They Awkwardly Try to Avoid My Glance." It's a great game. And as the proctors change every hour, this game has become quite eventful, I'd say.

Now I'm just sitting here, lost in my own head, which let me tell you, is a horribly dangerous place to be.

Serious thoughts and contemplations of the moment:

1. Why do french people hate peanut butter so much? I don't understand it. It's such a heavenly food. I mean sure, I'm a bit biased being that I was born and raised in America, and have been consuming peanut butter since I was a fetus, but still, I think the French are a little extreme.

Everytime I bring it up, they either start dry- heaving, or get this completely terrified look on their face as if peanut butter is the product of the devil, and the mere mention of it will send them directly into the depth of Hell. Most of them have never even tried it. I just can't grasp the fact that an ENTIRE nationality of people could have so much animosity towards such a life changing phenomenon.

And for this, I have a theory.

I believe that there are many french people sitting in their closets at this very moment, indulging in the sheer greatness that peanut butter is. They just can't do it in public because they risk being mocked by their family and friends, and even worse, they risk having to admit that the Americans are right about something. OH THE HORROR.

But here's a fact: Peanut butter does indeed exist in France. It's in the exotic foods aisle next to sweet and sour chicken.

But here's the curious part: There's never any left when I go to buy it.

You know why? Because my theory is correct.

I'VE CAUGHT YOU ALL, FRENCHIES. I KNOW YOUR SECRET. NOW STOP BEING COWARDS, COME OUT OF YOUR CLOSETS, AND SHARE WITH ME.

2. I just got really hungry for peanut butter.

3. French kids are extremely intense. Like, they go HARD on these tests. A girl cried earlier. Yeah, I know. Crazy. And I swear the kid's hair in front of me is literally smoking right now. I'm half- tempted to go open a window..

4. Why are so many words in the French language so similar? To this day, I still avoid talking about my neck in any way I can.

In the beginning of the year, I said, "J'ai mal au cou."* The erruption of laughter all around me sort of tipped me off that I may have been off.

* "Jai mal au cou" - "My neck hurts"

Eventually, after all the laughter had subsided, it was ever so kindly explained to me that what I had just said was, "J'ai mal au cul."* SUPER.

* "J'ai mal au cul" - "My butt hurts"

A little too much information there, Brookie? Yeah, I think so. Apparently I missed the slight difference in pronouciation. I'll pronounce it for you, if you're curious. You'll miss it too.

5. I really wish I was allowed to listen to my iPod right now. I need something to drown out the various tapping noises everyone in this room is making subconsiously. GEEZ. Someone needs to teach these kids how to breath and possibly channel all their nervous energy into something a little less annoying.

6. My phone just went off. And I pretended like it wasn't mine, as if it's normal for people's pockets to vibrate obnoxiously. But now my heart is beating really fast.

...it was my friend texting me to say she's skipping the compos. Rebellious? Yes. A good idea? Probably not. Am I jealous? Absolutely.

7. I wish the girl next to me would share her cookies.

8. You probably think I'm a fatty because all I talk about it food.

9. 2 hours and 15 minutes left. I can do this.

10. I could really go for some peanut butter right now.

But anyway, that's enough sharing of my tortured soul. I guess I'll go back to my super entertaining awkward eye contact game. I'm gonna throw a wink in there to spice things up. And of course, it's the teacher who wears leather pants everyday and looks like Santa Clause. SCORE.

11. My stomach just growled. Like, really loud. Like, turned multiple heads, LOUD.

...peanut butter.