Friday, April 15, 2005
With my Spanish instructor everywhere
I dreamed I went to Spanish class, except there was an exam that day, and it was on the top of a tower. I walked around with my cousn Mandy, trying to find my professor. Everyone was saying very nasty things about her.
Then I was by a stage, watching my Sunday school girls do a musical. It was very well-done, actually. The girls had written the lyrics to the tunes of Hungarian folk songs and had put it together in just one day. However, the day of the performance, my Spanish professor (her again, heh) appeared on stage right before they started and said, "Oh, let's sing the funny song for your parents!" And though the girls weren't pleased, they sang "the funny song" roughly to the tune of "Do You Know the Muffin Man?". It went:
We are from the funny farm,
The funny farm,
The funny farm,
We are from the funny farm,
Because we're inconsistent.
Then I was by a stage, watching my Sunday school girls do a musical. It was very well-done, actually. The girls had written the lyrics to the tunes of Hungarian folk songs and had put it together in just one day. However, the day of the performance, my Spanish professor (her again, heh) appeared on stage right before they started and said, "Oh, let's sing the funny song for your parents!" And though the girls weren't pleased, they sang "the funny song" roughly to the tune of "Do You Know the Muffin Man?". It went:
We are from the funny farm,
The funny farm,
The funny farm,
We are from the funny farm,
Because we're inconsistent.
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