A Long Story Not About Christmas

Merry Day-After Christmas, Inklings! :D I hope your Christmas was beautiful, magical, and free of any unpleasantries in the form of sponges :D


Here is a story that I'm making up at random!

Long ago, too long for you to count the years on your fingers, a planet exploded in a galaxy so far away that scientists wouldn't even get a zillion miles close to it. Unfortunately, the significance of this planet exploding is minimal to our story at hand. I just thought you should know that something interesting happened a long time ago.
Our story takes place in a tiny forrest that was made completely out of crystal and bones. It was called "The Very Odd Forrest" and many a woodcutter would spit in its general direction (woodcutters those days were very spiteful, smelly individuals. They also were occasionally good at wearing women's heels). In this forrest lived a mediocre looking young woman who had no magical powers whatsoever. As you can imagine, living in a Very Odd Forrest and lacking magic or beauty is a very discouraging thing to a young woman. So this young maiden, whose name was Ann, was very depressed and wondered daily why in the world she chose to live in a magic forrest made of bones and crystal.
One day, when Ann was boringly reading a book on the history of economics, a giant fuzzball burst through her cottage door! It was huge and orange with sparkles shooting out of every speck of fuzziness! Ann looked up, bewildered, but not very scared. The point when she got scared was when the fuzzball BURPED and out popped a handsome prince! He was extremely pale, in fact, this prince was a handsome CROSS-ALBINO! He was so white, but instead of having albino's signature red eyes, his eyes flashed a beautiful shade of purple. Ann thought he was perhaps the most beautiful and most scary thing she had ever seen pop out of a fuzzball.
"Hell...O! Fair...er...Mediocre Maiden! My name is Garglemesh. I am the prince. Of what? I have no clue. Where I came from? No idea. All I know is this--I am extremely needing a toothbrush. Do you perhaps own one to spare?"
Ann nodded and grabbed a toothbrush she continually kept in her pocket, although, she never knew why. Garglemesh brushed his teeth vigorously and smiled his award-winning smile (7 Grammies, to be exact). He then stared deeply into Ann's eyes. So deeply that she felt that he was mentally prodding out her soul with a toothpick.
"Listen, lady. I don't know much about love...I know plenty about like-liking people, but not, you know...L-O-V-E...in fact my mother says I may never find anyone who'd marry a 27 year old cross-albino who still plays with Legos...but...well...I've never met anyone so gosh-darn boring. And, the thing is, my life is full of adventures, usually involving a whale and demon kittens. So sometimes, I need to chillax, if you catch my drift. Whaddya say? Be my boring wife?"
Ann looked at him for a very long time. Never before had she felt so strongly towards someone so full of manliness and whale travel. She stared deep into his strange purply eyes and then...
SHE TURNED INTO A DRAGON AND ATE HIS SOUL!

Moral: Never ever ever ever tell a girl she's boring, no matter what she reads for fun.
Second Moral: Skip that moral. Because girls who read economic books for fun are freaks. Maybe they're nice, but they're freaks.
Third Moral: I pray to God you didn't take anything seriously
Fourth Moral: Except the Very Odd Forrest--I just went camping there. It's very real. Full of ticks, though. They don't go to your head; they actually burrow into your spleen. Very unpleasant.

Let The Obsession Be Known!

You all know that's I'm obsessive. So, I thought I'd make a little photo journal of my obsession with hats. These are not all my hats, but the coolest. I know, I look weird. Who cares?! I bet you look weirder. :D

You're Trash...Okay, not you, BUT THIS BLOG IS.

You see those hoarder shows on the telly and you think "Those poor unfortunate souls!" Well, I have unfortunate news for you. I am one of those people. Well, I'm slowly turning into one, I believe. Same with my parents. Every other night, I'm washing random plastic that we shove into our Tupperware drawer. I'm beginning to suspect that my folks are about to take over the world via plastic containers. Maybe they'll suffocate some moose with it or something....

Here's a list I've compiled (when do I *not* compile a list for you?) that explains my reasonings for my fears of becoming a hoarder early on in life.

TRASH I DON'T LIKE TO THROW AWAY

1. Glass Bottles. C'mon, think about it. What if I get stuck on an island and I have a pen and paper handy? Where am I going to get that glass bottle from? That ever-so-popular glass bottle tree? I don't think so.
2. Paper. I usually have random seizures of creativity, and I need paper to protect me from a very fatal creative overdose. I may just spontaneously combust one day.
3. The Paper/Plastic That Covers Your Straw. I usually twist it into a ring. In fact, if you ever eat with me, grab my hand and look at my fingers. I'll bet you five cents that I'll have a straw-paper ring on. Get your nickels ready.
4. Broken silly bands. They look like animals. It's like throwing away a puppy. Who does that?!
5. Midget pencils. You know what I'm talking about. Those pencils you've sharpened a zillion times and now it's a widdle stump of graphite? You and that midget pencil have been through a lot together...remember that math final you barely passed? That love note you wrote to that girl who smells like cabbage? It's equivalent to murdering a very handy secretary if you throw away a midget pencil. You're sick.

You know, I used to throw things away. I used to like to recycle things. But then I got teased a LOT. Who teases you about stuff like that??? What kind of person are you when your teasing tactic sounds like

"Hey! Hippie! Nice job saving our planet! Hahaha! YOU'RE A LOSER!"

There's really a lot to be said about the bullying of this day and age. It's not as vicious as it is obnoxious.

"Your hair is long!! You're a hippie!"

WAY TO GO, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS. Why don't you write a novel, you wise old sage.

1.It's 2. a 3. List 4. Blog

Hello all you Inklings! Hope your days have been merry and bright and free of any bears with beards attacking you and your young! :)

Today is going to be a day of lists, so if you don't like lists, best you just jump off a cliff with scuba gear and dog-paddle away to Wisconsin where they accept freaks like you. No offense to the Wisconsinese, though.



Nervous Habits I Cannot Shake

1. When I'm really upset at myself for doing something stupid, you'll catch me twisting my hands and fingers or scratching my arms like a polar bear with lice.


2. I bite my lips a lot. One day, blood is going to shoot out of my lips like a jet-stream and *then* I may stop. Maybe.


3. I laugh at everything. But my nervous laugh is the sort of laugh you'd expect from someone who started to laugh and then got gagged. It goes something like "Hahah---------------". Very irritating.

Most Annoying Christmas Carols in the Whole Wide Universe Cause the World Wouldn't Cover the Enormity of Their Annoyingness.

1. I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. Let me help this kid out. Santa isn't real. Your parents are the people buying you all your gifties. And I'm guessing that Mom and Dad are not into the poaching industry. Sorry to ruin your hopes and dreams, but I mean, come on! The hippo is one of the most violent creatures in the animal kingdom! I did you a favor!


2. All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth. Patience is a virtue you whiny kid.


3. Silent Night. I never really hated this song until I heard Stevie Nicks sing it. Then I was determined that she was a goat and that this song is super irritating. We get it. All was calm, all was bright. But, guessing that a woman was giving BIRTH, I doubt all was calm. Just saying.


4. We Wish You a Merry Christmas. This is the first song I learned on ukulele (I know, you were dying to know.). Reading the lyrics, it sortof translates into this: "We hope you're gonna have a good holiday NOW BRING US SOME FRIGGIN FIGGY PUDDING OR WE'LL LIVE IN YOUR HOUSE FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!!! ...Hope you have a good Christmas!"

Smells that Are Delicious

1. Boys' Cologne. My friends and I were having a conversation at lunch and what we gathered by the end of it was this: "It's no use having a boyfriend if he doesn't wear cologne." Harsh, we know. True? We know that, too.


2. Gasoline. You're thinking it, too.


3. Magnolia Blossoms. If you want me to ever drool (which is a weird thing to want, don't you think?), spray a lot of this stuff around, because it is FREAKING DELICIOUS.

Things On My Mind this VERY.SECOND.

1. Wow...I use CAPS a lot...


2. Owl City is so catchy! That describes me perfectly!!


3. I want a cookie. Badly. Someone, anyone, MOMMY, bake me a cookie.


4. I really wish I had more money...


5. Oh, yeah, and there's this boy....

If I don't blog anymore this week, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, even if it's totally lacking snow like mine will. Seriously, Weather, what is your problem?! Anyways, hope you get all you wanted and remember the Reason for the Season is not a Kindle. :)

All I Want For Christmas...Odd Version.

Most annoying Christmas song ever: "All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth."

Kid, a little patience would do you good. Unless you're a freak of nature, you're gonna get 'em. Wish me a merry Christmas by sending me a card. Stop complaining.

Lately, bloggers have been posting their wish-lists online. I don't really know whether that's interesting or very greedy of them...but I'm going to do it anyways. But you should know by now, I never do things normally. So, here is:

THE STRANGE THINGS I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

• I want a sock monkey. Because I get petrified at night and I have no animals that are NOT from my ex-boyfriend availible to snuggle.

• Bars of soap. Not circular, not funny shapes. Good, thick rectangular bards of soap. OCD? Yes, yes I am.

• Fake eyelashes. I like big eyelashes. My eyelashes? Not big enough. ...I swear, I must have womb-teleported from the sixties...

• A necklace with a mermaid on it. I want just a part of my childhood (okay, teenagehood, too) wish around me at all times. I am childish, I am silly, and I like mermaids. Simple as that, therapists.

Please Allow Me in Your Motorcycle Gang

LISTEN UP YA'LL! (raise your hand if I just implanted Fergilicious in your mind...I thought so, manly-man in the corner. It's okay....we understand, that song is addictive. Really, we won't tell your football coach.) OK, so, here is something that bothers me: hyper puppies. Someone, please please please, tranquilize them. They want you to. Their shivers say so. Just do it.

ALSO! I have an issue lately with....FRESHMEN. Or, as I fondly call them : Freshies. So, despite what you thought when I typed FRESHMEN (freshies), I actually do not have upper-classman-snotty-disorder about them. In fact, I have many many freshie friends, some who are reading this blog probably right this second. (i love yew freshies, so calm yourselves down. get off that soapbox) The thing is, the FRESHMEN seem to be a lot more...rough, wild, rebellious, and hardcore...than I am, or was at any point in my life.

Wanna know why?

Because I am that safe, goody-goody girl you rebels love to hate. Yeah, I'm freely admitting that I am not ever gonna be eligible for a motorcycle gang, or ever offered a free tattoo after someone sees me at a bar (does that ever even happen...? Feedback, please.)

So why are these younger kids so bad-a (pardon the expression, I mean to say "bad astronauts") when I'm older? I wish sometimes I could be so wild and crazy that teachers would for ONCE not ask me to do their little errands they're too lazy to do. I wish people would look at me sometimes and go "She's one hardcore teenage rebel, she is."

This is what would happen to me if such a wonderful thing called rebellion ever popped into my functioning systems:

1. My hair would be black. No, no. Not just black....BLACK WITH PINK STREAKS. Ooooh, so stylishly rebellious--all you tattooed men in coffee shops would totally ask me if I read Hemingway as I killed butterflies.
2. I would own a motorcycle jacket with faux leather...because, just because I could totally beat a person in an arm-wrestling contest does not mean I do not love the widdle animals.
3. I would ditch class all the time to go to bookstores. Yeah, you heard me. I'd miss education for education. Not only would I be deviously disobedient...I'd be contradictory with my methods. Nerd rebels for the win!
4. I would see Rated R movies. But I'd drag my teddy bear around with me. My teddy bear with a lip ring. Cause he's pretty hardcore himself. Way to go BlackDeathSnuggleBear.
5. I would own a motorcycle. While riding, I would have a sombrero and red cowgirl boots. I really really want a pair of red cow girl boots. Ever since I saw Footloose, I be wantin' some of my own. The rebels love the classics.
6. I would drink Monster energy drinks with a paper bag around them. I would also spike anyone's juice with a Monster. Because when I'm hyper, I'm equivalent to someone who's high, drunk, and mentally insane...and I love it.
7. I would interrupt the teachers every single day with weird words. Teacher: So today, class, we're gonna learn about...Me: ARTSY FARTSY! Teacher: Cells.....um, anyways, the cell develops in the Me: HEPATITIS! Teacher: What is your problem??? Me: B-I-N-G-O!! WHOO!
8. I would put my makeup on like the guy in KISS with the star on his eye. Enough said.

Obviously, by now, you should see all the reasons why you SHOULD accept me in your club, motorcycle gang members. I have potential. I know to party. Sure, I have some downsides, like how I'm horribly scared of lizards and the dark (the dark more than lizards...WHAT IF LIZARDS GOT IN THE DARK WITH ME?! I WOULDN'T SEE THEM!! OMG, THAT WOULD BE THE SCARED THING OF ALL TIME, I WOULD PEE MYSELF IN FEAR!!!) Ahem. As I was saying, I've got potential hardcore female macho-woman in me. You just gotta beat her outta me with a stick that does not have a lizard sitting on it.

Ireland and My Potions (or poisons) Class

You know where I wanna go? I want to go to Ireland. It's so beautiful to me. I love the culture of the people, I love the accents, I love the music (especially Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys), and I love the scenery of the hills and walls and roads and castles. It's just amazing. So, what would I do in Ireland? Drink beer? No. In fact, you'd be quite surprised.

First, I would buy a sled. A good, sturdy sled prepared for many a rough and wild adventure. Then, I would take that sled and find one heck of an awesome hill. Guess what happens next? That's right, I'm gonna shout to the world "WATCH THIS BAD BOY GO!" and then sled down that monster of a hill. Next, I'm going to a bar. Wait. Not for beer. I'll be ordering a soda, thanks. What I *will* be doing is people watch. I love people watching. Yes, I am a registered creeper, thanks for asking. Lastly (that I can think of), I'll be taking a train to the nearest ancient, crumbling castle with whoever my companion is (you thought I was doing this alone? And I already have a companion in mind, so he had better come and do this!) . There, I want to have a ghost-story-athon and stay at that castle ALL NIGHT LONG.

Fun, isn't it?

So, I'm in this class called "Contemporary Living" which must be German for "Let's Find Creative Ways to Poison Your Friends". Basically, in this class, you cook, cook, cook, occasionally sew, cook, cook, hold a flour sack acting as a baby for A WEEK, and cook. What do we cook, you ask?

POISON.

Let's look at the menu I've had the horror of watching unravel.

1. Deviled Eggs. I am not a fan of deviled eggs, but I have held a respect for them because they were made either by aliens, or seriously Satan, which I do not want to mess with by insulting his eggs. Anyways, we "made" deviled eggs. It's a concoction of hard boiled egg yolk, mayonnaise, and mustard. You would think that would be slightly solidified? Nope. IT WAS THE CONSISTENCY OF WATER. This is why I hid behind a refrigerator while people ate it.
2. We made French Toast. Simplest thing ever, oui? No. No, my French Toast was as yellow as Spongebob Squarepants. Let me just tell you--French Toast is supposed to be brown. Oh, yeah, and not squirt out egg juice on your plate. Just so ya know.
3. Cake and Frosting. Cake--good. Frosting? Looked and tasted like glue. I was tempted to do arts and crafts with this stuff.

Tomorrow we're making chicken enchiladas. God save us all.

Soundtrack of Awesomeness

I love love love love love love love love love love love music. If music was a person, he would be ruggedly handsome with an acoustic guitar in his hands and a suave smile saying "Baby, this is for you!" But, unfortunately, music is not a person. It is, however, a constant in my life, and I'd like to share it with you.

SOUNDTRACK TO MY LIFE

Happy Songs:

1. You Make My Dreams Come True--Hall and Oates. This song makes me wanna get up, dance, and then go hug someone till their eyeballs fall out and roll around.
2. Fidelty--Regina Spektor. It's so gosh darn cute, makes me wanna pet a puppy and then hug it till its eyes fall out and roll around.
3. I Don't Care--Fall Out Boy. Not a nice person song, but I just get up and DANCE to this one!
4. Merry Happy--Kate Nash. This song is actually is not all rainbows and sunshine. But yet, I iz happeh when I hear it.
5. Baba O'Reilly- The Who. Best song ever. One of my absolute favorites.
6. Any song by Hellogoodbye

Sad Songs:

1. Nicest Thing--Kate Nash. "Basically, I wish that you loved me. I wish that you needed me. I wish that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three. I wish that without me, your heart would break. I wish that without me, you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake."
2. 1930--The Gaslight Anthem. "Do you remember the last thing you said to me? Before we broke up? Before he took you from me? You said 'I love you more than the stars in the sky, but your na-a-a-ame just escapes me tonight.'"
3. Thinking of You--Katy Perry. "Comparison is easily done once you've had a taste of perfection."
4. Behind Blue Eyes--The Who. "No one knows what it's like, to be the sad man, to be the bad man, behind blue eyes."
5. Sally's Song--Nightmare Before Christmas. "I sense there's something in the wind, that feels like tragedy's at hand."

Love Songs:

1. Samson--Regina Spektor. "You are my sweetest downfall."
2. If I Fell--The Beatles. "If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true and help me understand? Cause I've been in love before and I know that love is more than just holding hands."
3. Dream a Little Dream of Me--The Mamas and the Papas. "Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'. Birds singing in the sycamore trees. Dream a little dream of me. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear, still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear."
4. You Make Me Feel So Young--Frank Sinatra. "You make me feel so young. You make me feel there are songs to be sung, bells to be rung, wonderful flings to be flung! And when I'm old and gray, I'll still feel the way I do, today, cause you, you make me feel so young."
5. The Only Exception--Paramore. "I've got a tight grip on reality, but I can't let go of what's in front of me here."
6. The Scientist--Coldplay. "I've had to find you, tell you I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are."

Angry Songs:

1. Headstrong--Trapt. "Back off, I'll take you on."
2. My Darkest Hour--Scary Kids Scaring Kids. "You left me at the altar! My heart in my hands!"
3. What Goes Around--Alesana. "What goes around comes back around!!!"
4. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing--This Providence. "You're so good at stretching the truth into your sugar coated lies."

There you go! Hope you learned something! :D

Thanks for Nothing, Celebrity Authors

So I actually decided to blog randomly today, because, well, I can! I feel like a terrible mother who left her baby in the car with a bottle of beer and liquid cleaner. So, I'm slowly trying to gain back your trust...even though you may have poisoned yourself by now....

Since Thanksgiving was upon us (one of the lamest holidays of the year, in my opinion) I decided I wanna tell you what I am thankful for. Be warned, this is gonna get freaky:

1. I am thankful for huge, beastly rainstorms, the kind where the raindrops feel like tiny fingers jabbing you in the face.
2. I am thankful for the smell of bookstores when you first walk in.
3. I am thankful for warm water in big bathtubs---best excuse to procrastinate ANYTHING.
4. I am thankful for Kleenex and the way I use them for EVERYTHING except my nose.
5. I am thankful for cray-pas (oil pastels) because they make me look like I held hands with a leaking rainbow.
6. I am thankful for indie music and the way it keeps pulling me in even though I hate it.
7. I am thankful for second chances.
8. I am thankful for balloons. Not white or black balloons, but balloons that are COLORFUL!
9. I am eternally thankful for Crayolas and the way they make my diary look like a party.
10. I'm surprisingly thankful for glitter. Even though I was terrified of it two years ago (I would run away from it, not even kidding), now I practically cover my face with the stuff.

Yesterday I went to a bookstore (and i discovered i want an urban art book for christmas) and I realized that celebrities seem to feel entitled to write books. Lauren Conrad (what is she even famous for?), Justin Bieber (we can always make fun of him, let's just leave him alone), Miley Cyrus (...........I hate her/end of story), and Hilary Duff (I hate her more than Miley Cyrus) all seem to be "authors". Lemme tell you what an author REALLY is.

An author is someone who doesn't want to put themselves out into the world and be famous. An author is a living, breathing story, and it is their LIFE to tell it. They could care less if they had money for getting out their story, in fact, you wouldn't be an author if you cared only about money. Your wrists would ache from scribbling down so many ideas. You would look at the world and see whole novels in everyday objects. You're not doing this to prove yourself to the world (even though that sometimes can be a good motivator). You're doing this so that YOUR story, YOUR creation, and YOUR life can finally breathe for the first time.

So, MileyJustinLaurenHilary, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE get off the shelves and back on reality TV where some mindless people can watch your every stinking move and where readers can actually go back to reading GOOD books.

End of rant.

Let me leave you with something nice!

"This heart, it beats, beats for you. My heart is yours...."--Paramore

Who's Your Friend? She Looks Better Than You.

Things That I Hate thPat Girls Typically Love:

1. Horses. Horses are big, smelly, and oddly porpotioned. They're not cute. They're useful for delivering mail, pulling carts, and making glue and dog food. Yeah, I said it.
2. Brad Pitt. Honestly, there is nothing attractive about him. His face is in a constant pose of "Wha....what just happened?" It's obnoxious.
3. Cinderella. OK, what do we really know about the story? That Cinderella had to do some chores? Oh, boo hoo. What if she was just really lazy, and the Stepmother was only trying to teach her responsibility? You know what we learn at the end of the story? That, if you marry rich to an idiot who "loves" you instantly, you'll never have responsibilities again. Way to go, Disney. That'll teach the future generations to have a GREAT work ethic....idiots.
4. Prom dress shopping. You know, the girls just squeal and gab all about going shopping for "the perfect dress". Yeah, when I try on dresses, I feel fat, uncomfortably hot, and like a pumpkin trying to squeeze into something made for a stick. Not fun, not momentous--just really really embarrassing to a point where I will ALWAYS cry in a dressing room. Yay for teenage memories.

Serious moment---all future clowns in training please leave now--serious moment!

I hate being average looking. Oh, you can try and try and try to persuade me otherwise, but I'm not gonna listen to you. Actually, I'm pretty okay looking until you put my beautiful friends next to me. And wait, before you say it, no, we're not "pretty in a different way". They're hot. I'm not. It's okay.

Probably the most annoying part about having supermodel-looking friends is when boys flirt with them. Men, I don't know if you're blinded by your love or whatever, but asking a girl for her number in front of her average friends is extremely hurtful to watch. Especially when you're the average friend. Checking out just one girl in a group of five is also pretty heart-breaking when you're part of the four not being checked out. It's the WORST when you say:

"WHO'S YOUR FRIEND?"

And yet, you don't even know *me*.

Just a little advice from an average girl to boys: Please, just don't.

"All of my love, all of my kissin'--you don't know what you've been missin'"--Buddy Holly

Get the Potato Cannon!

I know I know--I suck at frequent posting. Hopefully, I'll check into blog rehab and quit my laziness. No promises. But I'm gonna give it a shot!

Frequent Things I'm Paranoid About:

1. Murderer is in my shower and is JUST WAITING for when I go pee so he can kill me.
2. My fish is gonna die the *second* I turn around.
3. I'm gonna turn invisible and no one will realize it. Yeah, I'm serious.
4. The Grudge will appear in my bed when I finally get over being scared.
5. I'm gonna get possessed by Satan.
6. I'll pee my pants and not know it.
7. Getting sweat stains.
8. Throwing up in public.
9. Accidentally cussing in front of loads of people.
10. Getting walked in on while at a gas station bathroom.

So, Thanksgiving is upon us like an ominous fat ghost of deliciousness. This is the thing...why did we pick our traditional food to be "traditional" on Thanksgiving? Who decides this stuff? I'm pretty sure this was not a voting process when Thanksgiving was made a holiday. So, here's what I propose:

• Instead of Turkey, I'm thinking of another obnoxious bird: OSTRICH.
• Cranberry sauce? What the heck, who even LIKES that strange jiggly mass? Let's make it: JELLO MOLD OF THE MAYFLOWER! historical, and oh so jigglin' delicious
• Stuffing. It's just warped bread. In fact, it's stoner's bread. So, better yet, howabout: LEVITATING BREAD. C'mon, scientists, I know you can make it!
• Mashed Potatoes are beautiful things that should only be changed by way of technique. So, instead of oh-so-boringly mashing them....LET'S SHOOT THE POTATOES OUT OF CANNONS. THE LEAST THANKFUL KID IN THE FAMILY GETS HIT FIRST.

I think I covered it. So, what's your family's holiday tradition? Nothing but watching TV? Yeah, us too. I think I may just change that up by forcing my family to play Green Day Rockband with me. Either that, or participating in a pagan rain dance. IDK, they're both so entertaining.

"We sure are cute for two ugly people"--"Anyone Else But You"

Please Flog Gently

I always make fun of other people's poetry. Well, that's not really fair unless I get out there and post some of my own out there so it can get punched, bruised, and sacked. So here is my poetry for your potential flogging/adoration/internal discomfort:

Title: Bottom of the Sea

It's no use to be friends on a forum

if you act like i'm a ghost

if you act like i don't exist

if you act like you promised you wouldn't.

You wanted a second chance to what?

be friends.

best friends.

close friends.

Shut up. You're a

liar

tramp

fake

Nine years down the toilet and I've got your

memories

trust

love

All in a chest at the bottom of the sea.

Title: Know It All

All those love songs you used to sing to me on summer nights,

Are now corroded with heavy static,

Your eyes would shine brighter than Chicago lights,

But now they're broken bulbs in my attic.

My fists are bruised from punching out emotionally,

My lungs are flooded like city sewers,

My lips are chapped and move restlessly,

My heart is a hunk of meat gauged by a skewer.

My endearments left only water-stains on my brain,

I have no clue to where the meanings flew,

I thought true love never changed,

Shows how much I knew.

Title: Chicago

All our memories are sunken ships,

Nestled deep in the Chicago river,

Loaded up with empty promises and laughter.

All the things you told me is garbage,

Tossed into a pizzeria's dumpster,

Crammed with all your smiles and useless frowns.

Everything I once looked up to is a flame,

Sparked in a haunted forest,

Over the headstones of loyalty and admiration.

Tell me what you think. It's alright if it's negative. "For a pessimist, I'm pretty optimistic"

"the earth laughs in flowers"--e.e. cummings

Yeah, this IS my Diary Entry in Real Life

You guys! I am a bad, bad blogger. I should be tied to a tree and have kids wipe their boogers on me for my negligence! I have no excuses, minus the fact that I did not not not not not not not die in the hands of an Arabian prince named Billy. So, that was sorta time-occupying. But now, NOW we can elope into the hills of creativity and stare lovingly into each others' eyes until we get bored and start committing cannibalism. Cause that's what happens.

NewsUpdate!!!!! NewsUpdate!!!!nEwSuPdAtE!!!!

I'm writing a movie! It is my absolute inspiration, and I can't wait to watch it blossom. I will definitely post you a linkage for that. May take a while, but it'll be here. :)

You ever accidentally make eye contact with people? Gosh, is that awkward. Or! Have you ever farted in a library? Talk about embarrassing. Oh! Speaking of embarrassing, here's an excerpt from my sixth grade diary! LET'S CRINGE TOGETHER!

DEAR DIARY:

"Picasso* told me he loves me! So I told him I loved him, too! And so we just started talking. And it was when I turned 13! Talk about a great way to start teenage years! Then (my friend) Alexandriapenelopegrapefruit* left and me and him played cards and I knew he was thinking 'Boy do I like her' and I looked at him and he kinda blushed!

I've never blushed until he told me on that night and now I'm STILL blushing two days later!

GOSH DO I LOVE HIM!"

So, here is why I posted this:

1. To show that I was an absolute idiot
2. To show that I used to believe in fairytales
3. and a third point i'll bring up later

So, I was an absolute idiot. This boy did NOT say he "loved" me, he said he "liked" me and I said the same. But I always lied to my diaries, haha. But this boy NEVER ever ever called me and it was a horrible first boyfriend. On the positive side, that night that he DID say he liked me was amazing. Oh, and, yes, I did really blush for the first time.

When I was younger, I believed that young love was invincible. Like some sort of force that fate and environment couldn't come through. I believed that until about two months ago. You have to realize that LOVE is invincible but relationships are fragile, broken, beautiful things. Learn to live without them. But I still believe in love at first sight.

My third point is that, being an idiot was amazing. I was foolish and thoughtless, but I was happy. And after it was over and it didn't end "Happily Ever After", I was stupid again and got depressed, got in the wrong crowd, and did ridiculous things. But I don't regret a moment of it. I guess, maybe, if you screw up enough, you see all the ways to fail. And when you see all the ways to fail, you realize, there has to be a right way. It's fun to try to find the right way. Just gotta keep fishin'.

"I love my crooked neighbor with all my crooked heart"

--Looking for Alaska

A Serious Sammich of Love

Hey there everyone. :) We haven't chit-chatted in quite a bit, have we? My best buddy just reminded me to blog, so I was like, "You know what?! I will!!!" So here we are.

Today's post will be a serious sandwich wedged between two delightful wedges of hilarity. So open wide, Inklings, cause I'm shoving my serious sandwich down your throat whether you like it or not.

Cartoon Characters That I Have No Shame in Having a Crush On:

1. Wilbur Robinson. Sure, he's thirteen. Sure, he's from the future. Sure, he has pointy hair. So what? He's adorable. He has a time-machine. He has exceptional pigeon-noise-making skills.
2. Alex the Lion. Yeah, bring on the bestiality jokes. I don't care what you say, that lion is TONED.
3. Jack Skellington. He's dead, yes, we know. But! He can sing like a stud muffin, and he's fit and he loves Halloween. Really, we're a match made in heaven.
4. Wilt from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. He's the tall, red one with the rattling eye. He's sweet. I would totally adopt him...and kiss him. Haha, just joshin', I wouldn't kiss my adoptive adorable son who I have a crush on.

Serious Sammich Time!!!

So, I have a lot of single friends, or friends who suck at relationships ( I mean NO offense, because I do, too). I understand that very well, because I just split up with my boyfriend of over a year and a half. I'm fine, but I know what its like to hate to be lonely. So, I thought I could give you some advice that I *pinky* promise will work at least a LITTLE. Maybe even a lot. Here we go!!!!

Ways to Tell if Someone Likes You:

• They fidget with their hands around you. Chances are, that means they want to hold your hand really bad but they are just way way way too shy to try.
• They laugh at your jokes when you KNOW its not funny. They're trying to impress you.
• They make fun of something you did wrong, but they don't POINT at you. OK, let me explain. Say, you got an alligator in your lunch box by accident (???) and this person starts noticing. They'll say something like "Wow...you must really really crave reptiles" or something absolutely stupid. They smile. But they don't point and laugh. This is them trying to be confident around you and show you they have a sense of humor.
• They give you "The Glance". It's that look they give you but pretend they WEREN'T just noticing how cute you are.

Tips for Girls:

• Don't wear makeup. Boys find it scary. No one wants to flirt with clown woman.
• Smile shyly. You can flash the mega-watt smiles, too, but showing tiny smiles make them realize "HOLY CHEESE GRATERS! IS SHE CUTE OR WHAT?!"
• Laugh at yourself. If you admit your own oopsies, they'll realize you're fun and confident.

Tips for Boys:

• Use more than one adjective to describe a good-lookin' lass. "Cute" will make them think "I'M JUST CUTE?!" We have super shallow esteems, so boost ladies up with words like "pretty", "adorable", "stunning", "gorgeous"...even "beautiful" when you mean it.
• Put on cologne. I promise ALL girls find cologne to be awesome.
• Be embarrassed. No girl wants a pig-headed boyfriend. If you're embarrassed, admit it so that girls know you can be sensitive enough for them.

Attractive Movie Characters That I Would Gladly Hide in my Closet:

1. Edward Scissorhands
2. The Joker
3. Phantom of the Opera
4. Peter Pan

Why I Still Loathe Motivational Posters

My school is a treasure trove for asinine (put your enraged fists down, kids, I'm not cussing at you, it means "ridiculous") motivational posters. Wait, no. "MOTIVATIONAL" posters. There we go.
Why the quotes around it? Well, I already told you I hated motivational posters for the lack of connection with the motivational saying and the photo. And while my school continues this tradition of being schizo with the photos and quotes, they also manage to quote the most ridiculous (put down your pointing fingers, kids, I'm not educating you, ridiculous means "asinine") sayings I have ever heard. Let me show you by example:

• We have a poster with two frogs sprawled over each other like teenagers making out in a basement ( sorry, teenagers). Underneath the photo, the picture says "Talking comes by nature, Silence comes from wisdom." Not only is this the most stupid thing I've ever heard but...well, IT'S THE MOST STUPID THING I'VE EVER HEARD. OK, look at this logically. Babies? They don't talk. In fact, they don't even THINK about talking until they hear you do it over and over and over. If you shoved a baby in a bubble and left him in the ocean floating without humans, I promise you, when he comes back at age seventeen, he will not be able to talk...or even relate to anyone other than whales... Next! If you are being raped, beaten, or shocked by a toaster, what do you do? You YELL. You TALK. You're not so wise-looking if you're dead now are you? Talking is by learning, Silence is by teachers wanting you to shut up.
• We have another amazingly bogus poster stating "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember what you said." Isn't that what court of law is all about??? Just saying.
• There's a poster of a bear lounging on a rock besides my desk in science. I like to poke his nose when I'm bored. (Yes, I know, I'm weird, we KNOW this, guys.) He says "I like work, but it just cuts into my day." What day?! You're a grizzly bear, not a stay-at-home mom! Your day? Your day consists of: Eat, fish, hibernate. I think a little work would be good for you, Yogi.
• In my Spanish class, there is a picture of a football player. Under the picture? "Never quit." What if you're addicted to crack cocaine?
• Lastly, in my Spanish class, which is also a science classroom, there is a poster of a map of Washington D.C. Spanish? Science?...Geography? Something doesn't add up.

Basically, if it's lamented, tack it to your wall. I think that's the rule of thumb they use.

"We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,
We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, Pioneers! O pioneers!" -walt whitman

A little seriousness for you to consider.

You're Just Mediocre--Snail Mail Terrorism

Well howdy. I hope everyone is well and smelling delicious, like a beautiful bar of scented soap that doesn't smell like Bigfoot Urine. I hope everyone had at least one person call them pretty or handsome or divine or evenaddictingyoursmellislikefreesiabellaiwantyourbloodBLEHBLEHBLEHI'mavampire.

So, this week, I want to mix-it-up like some yogurt spiked with Jack Daniels. Not that I condone drinking---Timmy put the bottle down---but just that I want to go from SAFE to...KE$HA-KRAZY. Or, basically, safe to insane. So, this week, I shall be doing something SO crazy, SO extreme, SO death-defying, that you can't even tell your grannies about it. You CAN'T. It's illegal, actually.

We all get "Hate Mail" in our lives. We even get "Love Notes". But what the heck happened with the "You're Just Mediocre" letters? Where did they go? Nowhere. Wanna know why? Because, well...they never existed. SO CONSIDER ME the spawn-releaser of the soon-to-be-a-smash "You're Just Mediocre" letter!!!! *insert wild applause and screaming with joy*
Now what makes this crazy? What makes this "daring"? The thing, is I'm gonna send these letters at random to people in the phone book, because I am a loser who collects phone books. Hopefully we can make them smile, or at least get really angry, but whatever the case, consider this as "Snail Mail Terrorism". Because, well, we're starting a movement, after all.

As my privileged children of random (You're not my child, by the way. Sorry if you thought I was seriously your mother and you thought seriously your grandmother would be a flower...but, well, Timmy, you're adopted.) you get to view the madness I'm about to send. So we'll send one random "You're Just Mediocre" letter a week and you get to view each one.

"Dear Fat Man Eating a Twinkie,
Congratulations on supporting Hostess products through all these years. Because of you, they have thrived through all sorts of terrible economies, risen above all odds, and still tastes pretty mediocre.
I'll have to frown upon you, though, because you're fat, and we all know you do not need these carbs. Therefore, if I catch you again, you shall be carted to a secret facility where they grow celery, otherwise known as "farms", and we shall take away your Twinkie and we shall replace it with something for skinny people.
We have determined that you are, as one would say in the Old Country, "Just Mediocre" in the way of your eating habits.
Thank you and have a good Hannukah."
-Sincerely, The Board of Weasel Weight Watchers and Other Affliates

I'll be sure to put in another note with a memo saying I have no idea if they're fat, but if they are, that they should quit the Twinkies.
I may even link them to the blog...then again, they could find me and kill me and use my blood to paint their toenails, so maybe not....

Health food stores and farmers selling horse crack

You Inklings are what the French would call..."cruel". Yes, I mean you, you punks. You're the ones who would chase me down streets screaming "WRITE WRITE WRITE!"! You're the ones who threw rocks and rotting vegetables at me while I clambered into my car!! YOU'RE THE ONES WHO HELD UP MY DOG FOR RANSOM!!! You're crazy, do you hear me??? CRAZY.
OK, so none of that happened. In fact...no one even noticed I was gone! I'm beginning to think--dare I say it--that you...you...don't care..? Is it true, Inklings? Tell me it isn't true. Because if it were, I may just have to shove my face full of tuna, and we all know what cruel, disgusting things tuna are. Do you really want me to resort to a punishment so low? So cruel?? If not, you had better start showing me some love, or gosh darn it, Chicken of the Sea will be my new facial cleansing product. *shudders* I can't believe you, guys. I just can't.

I have discovered a new obsession. Bars of soap. They're so...square. In the words of Princess Jasmine, bars of soap are..."A WHOLE NEW WORLD!!! A DAZZLING PLACE I NEVER KNEW!!!"...I mean..um...really awesome and geometrically sound. They smell good, they look good, and they clean like...like the shamwows of hygiene. But! Alas! I have found a flaw in ONE bar of soap my momma bought me--it smells like pot/tar/Bigfoot. You wanna know why? Because I bought it at a health food store. Which is the Wal-Mart for faded out hippie men and their crackpot lovers/wives...NOTE THAT I MADE WIVES PLURAL. Theres always that one cute and youthful old man and then eleven old ladies in there. You then walk through the whole store going "Is THIS the wife?" "Is THIS the lover?" "Why can't I get any good tasting food here?" So, I believe all health food store owners own the following things in their closet:

1. Dial-A-Wife's phonebook
2. Beaded vests
3. Power-suits
4. Magical white-hair fluffifier
5. Simon and Garfunkel
6. Bigfoot pee to make soap with

Poetry is a weird hobby of mine. Actually, I have several weird hobbies--like watching children on carousels... not even joking, I do it at the mall for fun. Maybe I should incorporate a camera in there to make my creeper status go sky-high? Better wait till I get facial hair and a lazy eye first... ANYWAYS. Poetry is a weird habit of mine when I can't really talk to people about anything. Not poetry like:

"I saw a bird up in a tree and he pooped on me so I said whee and stung him like a bee"

or poetry like

"Rain is on my body. I killed my father. The end" *snaps fingers with appreciation*

I hate poets like that. I'm a huge believer in free verse, but I hate when poets keep shooting big' abusive things in there.

"I was naked on a cold tile floor

And there sat my heart beating

Laughing at me

BY THE WAY I WAS SUICIDAL."

That is just plain WEIRD. Especially when its someone who has NO idea what they're talking about.

"I am a white boy.

I live in Iowa and I'm homeschooled.

I sell crack to horses.

Dance for me, Snoop Dog and snort up life with me."

I would show you mine, but I'm sure I suck in my own special widdle way.

Cheers.

Word on the Block About the Blog

‎"Reading the Blog is like...well...like nothing I have ever seen before. It's like...sorta like eating the most amazing pizza ever, handed to you by Johnny Depp. Just wonderfulness upon wonderfulness. So wonderful that I got the link address tattooed to my face."--Mother Theresa

"If you read this blog, and I'm assuming that you will...magical nuggets of wisdom will start sprouting out of your elbows and kneecaps. And you'll feel so gosh-darn dandy that you'll break out in a dance and whistle a tune. THAT is why you should read this blog."---Nelson Mandela

Read the blog or your ancestors will come and haunt you.--Abraham Lincoln

"Read Jenna's blog and she will make you into one swell-happy amphibian/mortal"--Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Read the blog or else all your ice cubes will be turned to solid gold. And we all know how that feels between your gums--like golden Hades, that's how. Bahaha! I'm Danish."--Beowulf.

Improve My Nuking Marmoset, Please, Mr. DJ.

Today I went to a parade. It was a terrible, lame, and smelly parade, full of little girls with makeup caked on like a second skin and horses that would rather be running in a pasture far, far away from people. I was standing next to the old folks home and I saw all the elderly, mindless people being parked in their wheelchairs to watch this ridiculous parade go by. There was no music in the parade. There was no laughter or creativity. Just buckets of stale candy and grumpy, overworked people. I wonder if the sad, depressed old people felt any better looking at that. I sure know I wouldn't.
But what would make a parade like that better? For one thing, music. Tons and tons of music. Blaring so loud and festively that you can feel it radiate in your pores. And colors. All shades and hues strapped tastefully around the bodies of fellow marchers whose faces are radiating and happy and smiling.
Also, less stale candy. No Dum-Dums. Those are ridiculously similar to licking a toilet bowl.

But that's just the horrors of living in small town Oklahoma. We have all the creativity sucked out of us and thrown back into the hot sun that rules over all of our withering bodies. What can I do to make it different? Well, I have plenty of plans for when I'm older, but at the moment, I wanna have fun. I wanna be sixteen and crazy and make everyone doubt that I have any maturity in my being. So, here are a few ideas to get up and go and get dangerous:

1. Play tag in a cemetery at night. Thankfully, my youth minister takes us to do this once and awhile, and we love him for it.
2. If you can drive, pull into a car dealership with a stopwatch and friends. Time yourself going in. As soon as a salesman approaches your car, take off as fast as you can. Then stop the watch and record your time. Proceed to another car dealership.
3. Dress like a goth and visit every single church in the town. See what happens.
4. Go to Wal-Mart dressed like a super hero and buy things to suggest your power. (e.i. weights for strength, sunglasses for x-ray vision, stretchy pants for stretchability). If the clerk doesn't guess, ask them.
5. Drive through a drive-thru without a car.
   

Some of these ideas where gathered by observing other sources. Thanks to all of you, even though none of you read the blog of wonder. :)

I am so sick of seeing "Christians" on Facebook cuss like a sailor. Seriously, can you not be more creative? Here are some other choice words of choice:

• Bloody Timberlake. Used in phrase like: "Well, you little Bloody Timberlake, maybe you'd like to buy your OWN parkas!"
• Marmoset. "Oh shut the marmoset up, you Bloody Timberlake!"
• Nuking. "You nuking Bloody Timberlake of marmosets!"
• Hash. "What the hash are you nuking doing you marmoset-like Bloody Timberlake?"
• Jojoba. "Jojoba hash of marmosets, Bloody Timberlake is nuking bananas!"

It's really that simple, Fake Christians. Now, clean up your mouth with some nuking Jojoba butter soap.

Who is this Mister Dee Jay and why must he turn the music up, Rihanna?

First Challenge and Black Mail Worthy Material

I was challenged by "Seven Deadly Sins" to write more than one song a day. Fair enough. Although, I can't write tunes, but I'm pretty good at lyrics. But I'll try to make them as amazing as possible.

When I was younger, I used to think I was amazing at everything creative. I wrote songs and I tried to sing them and I also tried to make a band. (OK, several bands with dumb names like : Black Rose, Skeleton Key, Smashing Walls, etc.) So, I will share with you several cringe-worthy songs that I wrote in my past in honor of this challenge. I won't count them as writing a song, considering that they sorta already exist and are extremely EXTREMELY lame. Feel free to laugh your head off at my seventh grade stupidity. Just please don't tease me if you ever see me.

First Song: Official Ladies' Player (Bonus points for using correct punctuation for "ladies'")

About: This pathetic boy in my class who I was "in love" with for four years.

Stupidity Level: ***

Lamest Lyrics:

You're a sweet-heart breaker,

A best-friend faker.

And most of all, a ladies' player!

Haven't heard you give me a ring.

But when you do, I sing,

Is this some sick plan.

Please grow up and be a man!

Translation: I wish I was hot enough to get you to call me and you feel bad about your lack of interest. No avail.

To be honest, he wasn't a player at all. But, I wanted him to appear to be a man-tramp.

Second song: Lonely Chemist (What the heck?! I sound like a super nerd...which I was...am....)

About: Me never ever ever ever ever ever ever getting anyone to be romantically interested

Stupidity Level: ****

Lamest lyrics:

Emotions mixing in a vat,

Churned by one who, that,

Has never had a lover.

Hopes fill the air instead of smoke,

Realizing love is no joke,

Is the thoughts of the lonely that has no lover.

Translation: I wanted to be severely poetic and depressing. This was my pre-emo stage. I also had no idea what a lover meant. So, don't think I was a sexually active seventh grader, please.

Who the heck uses the word "vat" in a song??

Third Song: Choose the One You Love

About: That same idiot boy who I wasted four years on.

Stupidity level: *****

Lamest lyrics:

Are we on or are we not?

Tell me, honey, get it while it's hot,

There's a two-day special, get it while it lasts,

Or else be prepared when heartache blasts!

Translation: Oh, hey, I'm an idiotic pre-teen girl who thinks that she is something sexy beyond those ugly glasses, curls, and braces. Oh, Little Me, if only you knew what an idiot you are.

Seriously? This boy who these songs are about was my first boyfriend. He didn't talk to me for five months. See what I mean by idiotic?

So, I shall now get started on writing DECENT, SENSICAL, PRACTICAL songs. More than one everday. And please, don't black mail me with this stuff. It's like my diary.

Veggie Tale: I Failed and Funeral Plans

So...being a vegetarian...didn't work out. I failed after I went to the mall and was offered a Freddy's burger, which, may I just say, does all cows perfect justice because they are absolutely disgusting unless they aim to be a Freddy's. So, I faltered, and I followed up with turkey bacon this morning for breakfast. I also broke my no-pop rule with a cheeseburger....I fail at life, I KNOW.

So, this is the deal. I will postpone the veg-head diet until I receive TWELVE CHALLENGES. Which, by the way, Inkbots, you are totally slacking on. GIVE ME A CHALLENGE or I will kill all your cattle. End of fairytale.

Funerals are something we all try to avoid. I mean, why not? You have a creepy dead body in the room, everyone is dressed to depress, and the reception is chock full of gosh-awful casseroles. So, I plan on changing things up in the funeral industry. What do I mean? Well, let me tell you. *winning smile*

FIRST! At my funeral, no one is allowed to wear black. NOTHING. No black socks, no black panties. And yes, people at my funeral will check for your betrayal of black panty wearing. You are allowed to wear every single color in the rainbow at once, because that would make me happy, even if I was dead.

SECOND! I do not want to be laying down like I'm asleep in a coffin. I want to be sitting up in a chair with a cigarette in my mouth, because, all though I've never smoked and never will, I figure it wouldn't hurt any if I started when I died. (Seeing about all those health risks being null and all.)

THIRD! If I was ever mean to you, don't lie to people and say I was nice. Tell the truth about me. One thing I can't stand is nice liars because they're a complete and total oxymoron. And I mean oxyMORON. But, I would like all the people who liked me to attend and preferably beat up those people who didn't. Hey, I didn't say you'd be treated nicely for being honest.

FOURTH! The reception shall be held at Chuck E. Cheese. That way, you are forced to eat delicious pizza and forced to have a great time. Just imagine me beside you, whacking the heck outta some pop-up moles.

FIFTH! Just remember me as nicely as you can.

This is also my mandatory funeral playlist:

• "Good Riddance" by Green Day
• "Dead!" (clean version) by My Chemical Romance
• "Thriller" Michael Jackson

If you do not follow these requests, I will turn into a zombie and ravage your brain. :) HAVE A NICE DAY!

Love Note Mini-Post

Dear The Color Blue,
How are you doing? I just saw you a second ago and I realized that we haven't spoken in so long. So, listen, I just wanted to drop a note and say that, well, basically...I'm madly in love with you. I know, that came a bit forward, but it's absolutely true. When I see you in the sky, or even when I see you on random candy wrappers, my heart is beating so fast that I'm afraid it'll explode and everyone will see my tiny little heart and they'll be like, "eww that girl is disgusting, she doesn't deserve the Color Blue" and I'll have to agree and I'll go into bouts of depression and have to take happy pills and gouge out my eyes so I don't see you anymore and my heart won't shove itself through my flesh and make me look like I walked out of a Saw movie....Yeah. So, for all these years, I've kinda tried to avoid you to avoid that bloody heart-mess thing. But I saw you today and I realized that I can't hold it in any longer (my love, not my heart--she's fine.) So...the Color Blue...will you be my favorite color?

Was that kinda creepy? I sure thought so.

Challenges and Hate Mail

"Pinkachoo! I challenge...YOU!" Get it? Pink? Like my hair? Which is actually pink and blue like monster cotton candy?
Have you ever wanted to try the impossible? To do the undoable? To prove all the hater-gaters wrong? I haven't. But what I have wanted to do is try something totally new and exciting and possible unhealthy. So, I am taking up what we will call:
Pink-Haired Peril Proposals.
Where YOU the reader challenge ME the blogger to do insane WACKO-JACKO feats. Here are your guidelines:

1. Nothing immoral
2. Nothing illegal
3. Nothing that could get me killed

So, there you have the rules. Follow them like they were Ghandi. My first challenge is already here.
LET IT BE KNOWN: TOMORROW AND FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK FOLLOWING, I SHALL BE A VEGETARIAN.
I made it up, because if you do not challenge yourself, you cannot face challenges afterward. Feel free to quote that and tattoo it on your arm. :)

If you have any challenges for me, comment like a fat kid sending requests for more pizza at CiCi's.

Dear Lesbian Hair Cuts,
Why do you exist? You are seriously causing many innocent teenage girls to fall in love with you and make us hit on your owners who aren't males. If you want to be attatched to a lesbian, go ahead. But if you are attaching yourself to straight-as-a-board teenage punk girls or serious female golfers, you're only having their orientation questioned. Do everyone a favor and stay on a man's head, or better yet, stick with the actual lesbians.
Sincerely,
The Straight (yet curly) Haired One

The Pee Ghost and The New Movement

I'll admit something to ya'll. Something I've never really expressed...
I AM A PARANOID FREAK.
Okay, okay, so, you knew that already. I figured. But let me just tell you how paranoid I really am:
I AM SCARED THAT GHOSTS (MOST LIKELY DEAD RELATIVES) WILL HAUNT ME IN WEIRD PLACES AT TIMES THAT I AM ABSOLUTELY AT A LOSS. Examples? Of course. [youknewthelistwascomingallalong]
Place/Events That Would Absolutely Bomb to be Haunted

1. Peeing. Think about it. Granpa decides he wants to tell you where the treasure of his life is hidden, and you're sitting on Jonny Porcelein with a magazine. Talk about awkward even for the after life.
2. Driving. This is Oprah's nightmare. I swear, this has to be over a hundred times more hazardous than texting and driving ever would be. I can see the bumper stickers now: DON'T HAUNT AND DRIVE. Seventeen will do a special on it next month, I'm sure.
3. Your honeymoon. Nothing says "Congratulations on your new marriage" like interrupting a special moment with the presence of the undead. You though Grandma was embarrassing when she was alive and you had boyfriends over....this is literally your worst nightmare.
4. Giving childbirth. Aunt Thelma died a year ago. You're naming your daughter after her alive and well sister, Beatrice. Thelma arrives just when you're getting that sucker out. "YOU'RE NAMING HER BEATRICE?!" Now is not the time, Ghost Aunt Thelma.
5. Reading of the will. I would hate this more than anything. They read that you get a million dollars from your grouchy cousin Mirtle. Mirtle shows up, glimmering and shouts "DON'T GIVE THAT MONEY TO HIM! I'm not giving that scum bag all my money so he can buy a zillion XBoxes with it! Give it some stranger on the street and he'll deal with it better!" Talk about embarrassing haunting situation.
6. Drinking water. You think water squirting out of your noise is bad? Imagine some burn victim's ghost showing up when you're taking a sip. Not only will you be frightened and having Ole Faithful reenact in your nostrils, but you have a high chance of heart failure then and there.
7. In the shower. Nothing says good ghostly hygiene when some Victorian era ghost girl appears in your shower to tell you that you've missed a spot.

Remember Viva la No Vampires? Well, that movement flopped. So, I give you another flop-worthy movement. It is called:
THE SNAIL MAIL MOVEMENT!!!!!!
I am sick of lame, half-hearted Facebook messages. I am SICK of text messages with one answer. Darnit, I want good ole fashioned pony-express worthy snail mail. If you know me, ask for my address. But if not, I suggest this:
A) You can go in the telephone book and look up addresses of random strangers. Send them wacky postcards, thoughtful letters, whatever you want. Just don't write a return address and don't advertise.
B) Write a friend. Not someone in Norway. That's lame. But just a good friend you've had for awhile. My best friend and I are sorta writing back and forth (which I hope we continue to do) and I love it. I like sending him random crap and I like getting his random junk because it makes me feel like I'm not just a lame Facebook friend, but an actual friend. Snail mail is way more personal than technology. It's like getting a hug from far away, because the person actually puts MEANING and THOUGHT into a letter. :)

Song of the Week: Please skip listening to Ministrel's Prayer. Delve into the other songs on the playlist. This week, I want you to listen to "Electric Twist". It's good stuff, I promise.

The War is Over.

"War! Huh! What is it good for?! Absolutely...NOTHIN'...War has caused unrest to the younger generation." --edwin starr. Look the song up, people. Inspiring stuff. Why this quote? Well, for one, it is tradition to shout this at the top of your lungs while walking to a certain pizza place in Chicago...at least in my family. Secondly, I have HAD it with the fighting! *rally shouts behind me* I have HAD it with the disputes! *wave posters* THE TIME HAS COME TO END THIS SUFFERING!!! What the heck am I talking about?
The Google vs. Yahoo war.

This is insane! Why must we treat our search engines for! I have gone neutral with these horrible arguments. But now, I must choose a side. The battle increases every time I log onto MLIA (mylifeisaverage.com--check it out). So, I ask you...who shall win? I did a study to find out.

Here's what I did: I typed in certain phrases on both search engines. These are the results.

Typed in: How many times do I:
Google: How many times do I have to kill you, boy?
Yahoo: How many times do I have to go against

Typed in: What the heck are:
Google: What the heck are you up to Mr. President?
Yahoo: What the heck are you waiting for?

Typed in: Why can't I:
Google: Why can't I own a Canadian?
Yahoo: Why can't I lyrics

Typed in: Why does:
Google: Why does Oklahoma have a panhandle? (bonus points: I live in Oklahoma)
Yahoo: Why does it rain?

I think it's pretty clear, Google wins by a landslide. I mean, come on, I have ALWAYS wanted to know why I can't have a Canadian for a pet. Or why does Oklahoma have a panhandle? Are we secretly God's cooking utensil? And...WHAT THE HECK *ARE* YOU UP TO, MR. PRESIDENT!?


Word of the week: Odyssey