So at cheerleading practice tonight the captains gave out the first ever spirit stick. They’ve decided that each month they’ll give a spirit stick to the squad member who’s worked the hardest, shown the most enthusiasm, been the most positive, etc., etc. I got very excited when they started talking about this, because it was obvious to me that I was going to get it. I’ve been working my ass off (by the end of last week’s practice I was doing standing back handsprings), and I’m so enthusiastic my friends are starting to worry about me. The coach even sent me an e-mail telling me how much he appreciated my hard work and what a valuable addition I was to the squad and he hoped I’d stay for a long time. So when the captains started describing (without naming names, of course) my dedication, my positive influence on my teammates, my general willingness to give 110%, I made sure not to look them in the eye and force them to betray ahead of time that I was going to get the spirit stick. They wound up their speech of appreciation and indicated that we should all do a drumroll, which we did. I shifted my weight to step forward and accept my award, the corners of my mouth creeping up in an anticipatory smile I couldn’t keep off my face. “And the spirit stick for February goes to . . . G.G.”
G.G. no more deserves the spirit stick than William Rehnquist does. God damn G.G. to hell. I hope he drops it and is cursed forever and goes to Hades.
And I’m going to start plotting now to make damn sure I win it next month.