Sneakiness, strawberries, and guinea pigs in baskets.

     Hey all! Remember how I said I would actually do something, at some undetermined point? Well, yesterday night that point was officially determined. My friend Bridget and I headed downtown for a movie--more specifically, Snow White and the Huntsman. Except for one thing...we both really like comedies and we just weren't in the mood for Kristen Stewart. Sorry. Couldn't do it. So, like the bold teenagers we are, we bought tickets for Snow White and snuck into The Dictator, Sacha Baron Cohen's new movie. The only reason we snuck in is because of rating--R. Like the insatiable badasses we are, we not only snuck into the movie, we snuck in with Chipotle burritos--and ate them noisily, with chips and guacamole. 
     And that's not all. At the end of the movie, an alarming discovery--there were at least ten movie theater employees standing at the exit. I hurriedly made for the second exit--only to find that there was only one in this theater. Panicked and distressed, Bridget and I did the only thing we could--we latched on to a lone Asian man and hightailed it on out of there, doing our best to remain...well, inconspicuous. After successfully escaping (which entailed, terrifyingly, walking slowly past the aforementioned movie theater employees) we rushed to the lady's room where we panted and clutched our sides (though no physical strain had been put upon us.) The rush of adrenaline and the ensuing high led to an all-out oath. Before our four years as high schoolers are up, we'll sneak in to at least ten R-rated movies. We feel successfully rebellious. 
     And today, we woke up at around 11:00. Well, I did. Binta was already up--and watching Grey's Anatomy. Without me! I almost cried. When I got over that shock, we got up, made ourselves a homecooked breakfast microwaved lunch. And then we trekked downtown to buy some more strawberries. Last Sunday, I planted about twenty gazillion herbs and also a beautiful strawberry plant. Today, after seeing my first blossom, I was filled with a rush of motherly pride (though all I've really done is water my plants and pat fondly at the dirt in which they are planted) and was inspired to go buy more so that my strawberry harvest would not be limited to the perhaps measly output of that single plant.
     We took our guinea pigs with us, Bridget and I. Her guinea pigs are named Dasher and Caramel. They don't particularly like my guinea pig, Sebbie. He's too gregarious, too outgoing, too sociable for them. He also likes to sniff their butts, and tribbles (my word for guinea-pig-purrs) when he does, a practice they don't seem to appreciate all that much. He likes to snuggle up with them, and in response they readjust themselves or clack their teeth in irritation. I find this all rather mean and hurtful, seeing as Sebbie is such a friendly pig. But then again, who am I to interfere in guinea pig politics? Oh god, there's frantic yipping from their cage! And now, five seconds later, all is calm. 

G-Force discusses matters of 
international cavy
significance over alfa-alfa.

     Anyway, we brought our guinea pigs into town in a big round basket. After a few minutes of confusion and discomfort, they settled down into their soft, warm towel and proceeded to bask, merrily, in the warm afternoon sunshine as we walked along. As it turns out, bringing a trio of yippy, sometimes-feuding guinea pigs into town who collectively weigh somewhere between nine and twelve pounds (our guinea pigs are fat. Fat, plump, and cute) was not and continues to be a bad idea, especially if you're planning to haul back at least five plants (one weighing a pound or more) three pots (probably weighing about a pound and a half together, if not more, I'm really not the best estimator) and a ten+ pound sack of...wait for it...dirt. Especially if there are only two of you there to carry said items, and even more especially if you're both weak-limbed fourteen-year-old girls. 
     We hitched a ride with the dad of a girl on our soccer team (after staggering for about a block under the weight of these many items so foolishly purchased) and arrived soon after at home, where we planted our lovely new strawberry, thyme, and Italian parsley plants. They're looking beautiful and I can't wait to reap what I have sown, to stuff myself with the fruits of my labor, to...yeah. I can't think of any more sayings.
     I'll try and summarize in a way that makes (hopefully) an inch of sense. It's good to be rebellious when you're fourteen, even if it only means sneaking into an R-rated movie and feeling intensely guilty about it afterward, and it's also good to think ahead when you're fourteen and have never really needed to think ahead before.