Twilight Wars, Tornado Sirens, and Things that are STRESSING me out

You should be amazed that I type this to you. Seriously, I about died. But I'll get back to that.

Falconman, (sorry, Falconman, I will not use your real name due to a vow I took in the Blog Mountains forbidding me to use first or last names of Inklings), my boyfriend's brother, has initiated a Twilight War. He has pointed out several points on which you can follow here: http://falconsrandomness.blogspot.com/. But, being the Twilight fan that I am, I will bring out a few good things about Twilight and then possibly attack something random.

1. Twilight encourages reading. There's no way of getting around that. I have seen tons of girls (and boys!) who get D's in English reading this book, so I am behind THAT all the way, being the ginormous bookworm that I am.
2. Twilight has several good things to look for in a relationship, albeit not EVERYTHING. It does, however, show that a relationship is about respect, sacrifice, and committment.
   
3. As a beginning novelist, Stephenie Meyer should have credit for creating one of the hugest fan bases of our time.

So there you have it, Falconman. Your turn to object!

IN OTHER NEWS: Today they were testing the tornado sirens. Only I didn't know that, so I was about to call all my friends and family with my goodbyes. Sad thing is, I would probably be lying to half of them : "Oh, I love you so much! You're my best friend!" = "You rotten person! You never call me! I'm glad I'm about to die!" Just saying. Hopefully, when the time comes for me to die, I can be honest with them. But it annoys me that the sirens go off and there IS NO TORNADO. And I just found out this is going to be a weekly thing. So now, old people everywhere are going to be screaming and hiding. And we all know, when an old lady hids under a porch, she's going to stay there for awhile, no matter how much tapioca you try to coax her with.

Lately, I have been severely stressed out. My boyfriend is moving, and I don't think he really cares about that. Which is not very comforting, seeing that I cry about it quite frequently. Yes, I'm a crybaby, let's move on. And the thing is, is my mother is FORCING me to get a job, so now, I'll see him EVEN LESS. She doesn't understand that I wanted this summer to learn how to drive, next summer to get a job. She doesn't care. All she does is YELL YELL YELL. Sheesh. And now my aunt and sister are coming in to visit and my mother is in a Nazi stage of cleaning, which comes with constant: Nagging, Shouting, Screaming, Dirty looks, and "Don't use that attitude with me!". I'm so sick of it.

Sorry to rant about my life. This blog is nothing amazing, and I apologize. Tomorrow, I'll try harder.

Comas by Choice, Blurting out my life, I happen to love it, and A.S.H Day!

I promised not to bore you with my self details, so I will now do it quickly...SO quickly that it probably won't register in your brain because I will be using random words to describe my current situation. Are you ready for this? No, you can't be, because none of what is about to happen ever happened. Confused yet? Good. Here we go: Decemberistsomgisyousinyourhousescaredmeandh
ofthewestifyoutellmetodoonemorethingiwillbeforcedtoscream
rblognamebackstabbingjerkfriendcantbelieveyounevercallmewishyouwerentmoving causeicryeverynightbecauseofthatfactthoseboxeiwantedtoburnthemallyouaresoothewickedwi

That was quite fun, to be honest. I typed everything without spaces and then cut and paste like some schizophrenic newspaper editor. OK. NOW. Back to my usual complaining in a sarcastic and witty way.

I hate when people can't make up their minds. You're either yourself or Abraham Lincoln. You cannot wear that stovepipe hat in your ballet class because you can't be two people, okay? In English: My best-so-called friend loves to change her/his/its opinion as fast and changing as the wind. This would be a typical conversation with said she/he/it:
Me: That was a great movie!
She/He/It: I hated it.
Me: Yeah, the reviews hated it, too. Guess I'm different.
Female/Male/GenderNeutral: Oh? So everyone else hated it? Guess I loved it then.

Here's what the conversation would be like more dramatic:

Me: DON'T JUMP OFF THE CLIFF!
Girl/Boy/Undetermined: No one else commits suicide!
Me: Lots of people commit suicide!!!
Susan/Peter/Taylor: Oh? So everyone else is committing suicide? Guess I'll live then. Oh crap! A lot of people are alive, too! I have to go in between! Quick! Get me to the nearest hospital! I'm going into a coma...BY CHOICE.

Annoys the snot out of me. You know what else annoys the snot out of me? Annoying snot sucking machines. But that's a different story.
In order to never be confused with my friend, let me state the things I enjoy that are most commonly made fun of, so that you know that I don't care if you hate it, I love it:

• Twilight. I love Twilight. I own every Twilight book. I own three posters. I love Twilight. So shut up.
• Children's cartoons. I am still a devoted Arthur, Power Puff Girls, Veggie Tales fan. So shut up.
• Conservatism. I am a devoted conservative. I happen to hate Obama's views. So shut up.
• Pink. I like pink. I know it's girly, but there. I'm a girl. I think I can like pink. If it helps you feel better, I love black, green, blue, purple, yellow, red, and orange as well. But not brown. I hate brown. So shut up.
• Seventeen magazine. I adore it. I own them all. So shut up.
  
• Cat Stevens. Yes, he is a Muslim. Yes, he's banned from America. And yes, he IS on my iPod. So shut up.
• Hating the Devil Wears Prada. I'm sorry. I wish I liked them. But I hate them. So shut up.

OK, so from now on, if you see me with Twilight in my hands as I'm watching a Spongebob episode dealing with why health care reform is the death of America when I'm wearing my pink pajamas from Seventeen and I have Cat Stevens on my iPod and not the Devil Wears Prada, don't ask what's wrong with me. Because I'm just being myself, and I happen to love me, so if you don't, find my friend and be in a coma together.

I feel like I'm shouting at you. Let me say something nice. Let's invent a holiday together. Hmm...what do we all like? We like air. OK, first word: Air. What else does EVERYONE like? Sugar. Yep, we adore sugar. One last thing...we...like....umm...having working hands. SO today, April the 27th is Annual AirSugaryHands Day! You can celebrate by breathing, eating, and using your hands!!! Loads of fun!!!

I will end this blog by saying, however much I worry about having followers, I want to say that I love all you guys who read the blog, because you make an effort to tell me face-to-face. I hope it gets more popular, yes, but I am content with knowing that you guys are behind me all the way. So...thank you for this Academy Award and remember: Suicide is not the answer. Comas are the nonconformist way to go.

Prizes, Greek Gods, and Zombie Newscasts

You guys are beginning to wear me down. No one seems to care about the blog anymore. Which is why I have come up with this idea. Coming in probably late May, we will be giving out prizes for blog readers everywhere. Well, my blog readers at least. We will be giving out My Mother was a Rose TEE SHIRTS!! Yay! :D Whoever comments the most will be getting one. Be sure to, at the end of every comment, type your size in adult, please. Whoever requests the most followers will get a tee shirt and an extra surprise. So, if you suggest someone, be sure to comment on my page who you suggested. Honesty is the best policy. We will announce the winners at the end of May, so be looking for it. They will also be featured in an entire blog entry.
Moving on to more awesomeness. I read this book called "The Hunger Games". Check it out. Also, check out the movie "Stranger than Fiction" and "Clash of the Titans". You know, with Greek gods, everyone can make up anything about them and it will be dramatic. Let me show you what I mean.
Poseidon: "Hey, Hades, can I have a soda?"
Hades: *lights himself on fire* A SODA, YOU ASK!?!? A SODA?!?!?!
Poseidon: You challenge me unworthy of drinking carbonated beverages?! Curse you to...well...Hades. FEAR MY MERMAIDS!! *sends Mermaids after Hades*
Zeus: "Poseidon! Hades!"
Poseidon and Hades: "Oh no. Not again."
Zeus: "I will set a task for you to complete to prove who is worthy of a soda pop!"
Hades: "What is the task?"
Athena: "I shall help him with this task! You must cross the Pit of Undying Fire and Nasty Things...."
Aphrodite: "Fall in love with a busty woman whose beauty exceeds my own so I may punish her later...."
Kronos: "And battle it out with the Titans!"
Poseidon: "I'm going to Wal-Mart and buying my own soda."
Zeus: "Crap. Another good mythology down the drain."

See?

Other news...news. I hate newscasts. My boyfriend adores the news, but really, I've never met a male species that hates it, not to be sexist, just being fact-ist...if that's a word... But news people annoy me greatly. They are always SO smily it makes me sick. If Barbara is reporting on a man stabbed to death by his best friend's own ankle bone, she smiles. If Harold is giving the weather forecast and its 100% chance of apocolypse, he smiles. What would they do if they were reporting a ZOMBIE attack?

Barbara: And it seems that the entire graveyard has upheaved its dead residents into an undead, brain-hungry frenzy, just begging to chow down on innocent's organs. *smiles* Back to you, Harold.

This is as vital as that fat opera singer

Serious note alert!!! AHH! HEAD FOR THE HILLS, MAURITANIA! Haha, no, but seriously.
Tomorrow is "To Write Love on Her Arms" day tomorrow and I would LOVE it if you wrote "love" on your arms as a symbol that we believe there is hope for those who struggle with self-injury. I'm sorta in the middle of all this, and I won't get into details with you, but let me just say, knowing that people who aren't involved CARE means the world.
LESS SERIOUS NOTE ALERT! LESS SERIOUS NOTE ALERT! AHH! HEAD FOR THE HILLS, CONQUISTADOR!!! Today I saw an opera. Oh, yeah, you know where this is going. The opera
was LAME. The title is "Don Quixote" or whatever, and basically, this crazy opera-singing fool
goes on a quest to retrieve this skank's necklace. She gets it back, he proposes, she says no, he
dies. So there. Nothing about it was interesting except this one line: "My friend...My sweet, fat Sancho." Admitting your best friend is fat is probably the best last words I can think up of.
What are some other weird last words? Hmmm...

• "I...I'm not your sister...I'm your uncle."
• "Be sure to clean out the pantry once I'm gone...you know how food gets."
• "Would you mind if I belched in your face right now? Dying gets me...gassy."
• "You reek of skunk. I'm glad my sense of smell is dying along with me."

See? That was awesome. Today I had some lovely followers tell me that they loved my blog. Here is a diamond necklace for both of you! Woops! Did I say diamond!? I meant scorpion!! Quick! Take it off!!

My mom just gave me the hand today. You know, the whole "Talk to the hand!" thing. One day,
I'm going to get a tattoo on my hand. It will say "Let's have a heart-to-heart." Then the people
will feel obligated. I love it when people feel obligated. My goal in life is to do as many favors as
possible just to make people do ridiculous things for me once I'm old and wrinkly.
Me: "Remember when I opened the door for you in 2005?"
Random Person: "Uh...sure?"
Me: "Yeah, well, that means you have to eat this eel for me. It's bad for my liver."
R.P.: "I don't want to eat an eel!"
Me: "Yeah, well, I didn't want to open that stupid door! Do an old woman a favor, be kind and
eat the stupid eel!!!"
Random Person: *num num num*

My last words would probably be, and I am not joking: "So long, and thanks for all the fish."

Well...my final words for the blog, that is.


So long and thanks for all the fish!

Superheroes and Villains

Why do super...wait a minute...WHAT THE CRAP!? They took away my font and colors on here! OMG, it's back. Thank you God! Okay, sorry you had to bear with my blonde moment there.
Ok, before I get started, let me just apologize for the last post's format. I seriously have been trying to fix that for hours. It doesn't go away and I apologize, but I found it hilarious, so deal with it, because it's staying up. I worked long and hard on that thing!
OK, back to my main point. Why do superheroes get to be called superheroes? Why can't villains be called supervillains and my spell-check not accept it? Kinda biased, don't you think? I think we need hero/villain equality going on here. I mean, yes, it's great that you superheroes can have superpowers and do superhuman crap blah blah blah. But have you ever considered the hard work and effort that super villains put into things? Think about it. Heroes do not make "How to Save the World" extensive plans and do "Saving the World" projects in a hidden laboratory. NO! That's where the villains come in. They make the initiative. They make sure that their plan is in tact. And superheroes just go and screw up everything. I think the only reason why we don't universally accept villains is because we never see their plans fall through! How do we know FOR SURE that Dr. Terrible is about to set that orphanage on fire? Huh? Who told you? MagicMan, that's who. Him and his retarded tights. What if Dr. Terrible HAD to burn down the orphanage because there was a serious roach issue that could only be taken care of due to fire? Hmm? MagicMan was lying all along.
So, I think we should think of something awesome to call villains that are WAY cooler than the hero. I mean, come on, how many of you watched Dark Knight and found yourself amazed by The Joker? Yeah, that's what I thought. Bruce Wayne got nothin' on the Joker and you and I both know it. So, what should we call these vigilantes of violence? These heroes of helter skelter? These people should be called ..........................................................SpectacularVillains. Oooh yeah, you know it has a ring to it. You love it.

Ok, quick topic change: Rap songs. I actually don't mind them. I mean, I lack them on my iPod, but I don't hate them or anything. But if you listen to the lyrics, minus the profanities of course, you begin to realize: None of this makes sense. Here are some examples.

RIGHT ROUND: I like my jewelry, that's always on gold
I know the storm is comin
my pockets keep tellin me it's gonna shower

I wish I had pockets that told me the weather...

TIK-TOK: "Wake up in the morning feelin' like P. Diddy..."

Just for the record, when I wake up, I usually feel like myself. Not a black rapper. And looking at Kesha...I think she doesn't really feel like P.Diddy after all.

FOREVER YOUNG: Through the darkest blocks, over kitchen stoves, over Pyrex pots, My name shall be passed down to generations while debatin' up in barber shops

I discuss Jay-Z over my stove all the time...and I always break out in arguments down at the barber shop...

Hope you were entertained...please comment, I'm beginning to think you all hate me.

THE MOST VITAL THING YOU'LL EVER READ!

Hello there, Inklings! My, how you have grown! I'm glad to see you're all chipper and lovely as always, minus the depressed bunch of you complaining about your nostrils being too close to your eyes! Today I'm here to help you. I see that longing and lonely in your eyes that screams "I have been victim to awkward conversation too long!" I'm here to help, my Inklings, my children, my blog-obsessed fanatics that make me smile when I see the Followers list. I'll address the first part of why I will be such a great help to you FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

Awkward questions are the absolute number one killer in all conversations. They're like snipers in small-talk--just waiting to shoot a poison dart arrow into your chatter. So let me help you snipe them back. What is: An Awkward Question? The usual question you receive: "What is your favorite color?" "What do you do for fun?" "What music are you into?" How do I Make Those Awkward? Let me show you.
Q: "What is your favorite color?"
A: "The color of underwear you're wearing right now"
Bonus! If they're not wearing any. Who doesn't wear underwear? Seriously, what if your pants rip?! Where will you be THEN, you sick ignorant speck of nature? Nowhere, Pantiless Fool. NOWHERE.

Sie Waffeln Ekel meine Familie und Freunde (translation: your waffles disgust my family and friends!), Bark an meinem Fenster, erhalten lazers in Ihren Augen!(bark at my window--get lazers in your eye!), Mittens können für Feste und Beerdigungen verwendet werden(mittens can be used for parties and funerals)
Q: "What music are you into?"
A: "The sounds of men screaming in terror"
Alternate answer:"Scream therapy" then bonus if you start to shriek as an example.


Good! I hope you enjoyed those. Write them on your forehead if you must, because those are vital to defend yourself against conversation snipers. But, those are not the only things that kill conversations. For one thing, dressing in dull clothing makes you a wallflower, and no one talks to flowers except Alice from Alice in Wonderland (terrific book, may I add). Secondly, you sometimes make the mistake of ASKING stupid, halting questions. I know, Inklings, you can't believe it. But I can because I've had the pleasure to speak to all of you, except one of you, but you're just special. ;) So how can you right this tragedious wrong? I'll tell you: Ask better questions. Here are some great examples conjured up by yours truly.

"How many oysters would you sacrifice to the pretzel gods if he had your monkey tribe under siege?"
"If I was attacked, say by a giant squid measuring 22.38 feet long, would you save me and how?"
"If your tongue had to have six magical powers, what would they be?"
"What sort of books do you think God would like burned?"
"If I was a vegetarian, would eating a slef-constructed statue of a pregnant walrus be considered immoral?"

Also, if you wish for better options, just start to write my polls down. Obviously those are amazing, elsewise you wouldn't be voting on them all the time. ;)

Lastly, here is a list that is vital for you to never use:

• Compliment someone. You're lying. Either that or you're sincere and plan on murdering them to get whatever they're complimenting. And yes, I'm fully aware that you could be complimenting their hair. My explanation remains the same. In all reality though, complimenting someone just results in a polite little "Thanks" and then awkward silence. Unless you plan on tap dancing during that awkward silence, skip the compliments.
• Talking about the weather. The thing about weather is that is never stays the same. Unless you're speaking to a weatherman or meteorologist, shut up. The weather is only gonna be like this for a moment. Talk about something more solid.
• Asking about the person's family's well being. Are you insane? Chances are, this person does not like or want to speak about their family. I mean, they live with them twenty-four seven.
• Asking "How are You?". We all expect someone to say fine, so don't bother. Only bother if you know their honest. I make a point to tell everyone exactly how I am. Also, don't ask the repulsive "What's up?" or "How've you been?" The answers will always be the standard: "Nothing" and "Good" which are both neon-flashing warnings screaming "THEY WANT TO LEAVE"

There you have it. I hope this has been as educational as one of those PBS Nature Films. At least I did include a giant squid, and you're never gonna see any of those popping around PBS alive anytime, trust me. Comment like you have a disorder, be as un-awkward or intentionally awkward as possible, and remember: "No one cares about your pet Foofie unless Foofie has superpowers."

Having Fun with Gothic People

Today is my newly appointed "National Gothic Day"! This is the day where I will be laughing at some overly obsessed gothic websites. As a disclaimer, I do not hate goths, in fact, I'm rather good friends with a few. I used to like them a lot, but these next websites give me a tiny reason to smirk when I see one pass by.

Website Number one: It's a gothic dress website. Let me first list off some of the clothing's names.
"Alice's mourning tea dress"
"Strict and unforgiven pinstriped corset"
"Love's devastation floral cape" ...how can you say floral and devastation at the same time??
"Tortured souls black and torn and tattered corset"
"Victorian misfit gown"

I think if I ever open a goth store, it will be called "Sunshine and roses with a side of massacred stuffed animals"....
The second thing about this website is the descriptions of the outfits. Let's start with "Alice's Mourning Tea Dress": The ever exquisite Alice mustn't be late for her tea party. This dashing dress full of misery and torment will showcase the beauty of your pale face and glistening tears.

Why would I wear a dress full of misery and torment? I thought that was HEEL'S job.

This next outfit is called "Love's Restraint Buckle Jacket". If you look closer, this thing is a STRAIGHT JACKET. This is the description: Love's Restraint French Buckle corset is the only thing that keeps me from going insane and massacring the severed love strings of my heart

See, I had no idea I had love strings. But I wouldn't massacre them. I would go to an actual DOCTOR and get that checked out. Then again, maybe it was the doctor who gave you the straight jacket in the first place.

The next website was a gothic media website. There it had these dolls for sale that looked like Chucky and were bleeding and demonic. There's a "fun charm" that comes with these dolls "that combines with one another!" AKA--A heart necklace that connects with a bloody knife. I can't WAIT to get my kids this one day! Directly underneath it was posters for sale. You're probably expecting Marilyn Manson or some zombie stabbing its heart out, correct? Wrong. These posters are of FAIRIES. I think gothic people just got a little lamer in their merchandise department...

So that is my mini-post of gothic media. I hope you laughed a few times, cause I sure did. If you want to check this things out, simply type in "Gothic dresses" in Google like I did. You can maybe broaden your search, but I was seriously looking for dresses. You men may want to have another tab saying "Football" or "Video Games" on hand, just in case your mom walks by, though. :) Comment if you love the color black, blue, purple, red, green, orange, or yellow! :D

Little tip for extra laughs: You should start to read my tabs...you'll find some things unexpected.

Beauty Pageants

Today was an odd day, Inklings! Today was the day I realized "my dreams" and discovered "my true potential" as a "young woman". Yes, my dears, I got a Miss America Oklahoma registration letter. I never asked for it, so don't get out your judging fingers yet. Put them back in your judging pockets sewed to your judging pants. But nevertheless, I was nominated. Okay, I'll admit it, I am a bit flattered that someone finds me funny or smart or pretty enough to try out...wait a second. I'm having an epiphany right here on the blog. What if this was some sort of cruel joke? Hmm. Either someone doesn't realize where I stand on beauty pageants or someone DOES know where I stand on beauty pageants and decided to pull the wool over my anti-pageant judging-eyes. Anyways, you must now realize that I absolutely hate pageants with a burning passion. Let me elaborate by using the pageant pamphlet and newsletter they sent me as prime examples.

Observation one: They say that I'm going to be "realizing my dreams". I'm sorry, when I think of pageants, I think of people fretting over me to get my makeup and hair perfect, wearing terribly uncomfortable clothing, and snotty teen girls being primped by their mothers to win at something that will never get you anywhere in life. Now, don't get me wrong, but to me, that sounded more like a nightmare than my dream. And when you say "realize my dreams" I translate that into: "Your dream isn't the dream we want you to have. Being a writer? No way! Pageant queen? Yes!"

Observation two: ALL the girls were coated in makeup, wearing ridiculous short shorts, and were as orange as Oompa Loompas. It was like going to Wonka's chocolate factory and realizing the Oompa Loompas were strippers. I don't think that description fits me that well...Oh, yeah, and all of them looked twelve years old.

Observation three: They claimed that my family would be cheering me on and rooting for me to reach my inner potential. Okay, when is watching your daughter be changed into a completely different person considered something good to root for? Shouldn't you be telling your kid she looks fine and doesn't need the professional makeup and hair help and she needs to loose five pounds before Friday? Maybe I just believe in old-fashioned values, I guess...can you hear my sarcasm?

Okay, that's my rant of the day. Sorry if it bored you. If I ran a beauty pageant, I would do things differently. I'll show you how.
*FORMAL WEAR*
Man in thick mustache: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen and those in between or currently gender frustrated! This is the annual-but-never-happening-again "RoseChild's Random Pageant streaming somewhat live but very scripted to Y-O-....you.
Thin blonde woman: Thanks, Steve. Today we'll be looking at our hormonal and somewhat cranky but altogether usually tolerable contestants as they compete for something they'll never use---a scholarship! You know, Steve, all colleges today are looking for bubble-brained individuals.
Steve: True, that Nancy. Speaking of bubble-brained individuals, here comes Samantha Sourgrass wearing her formal wear!
Nancy: Formal wear? Steve, Samantha isn't wearing any clothes!
Steve: Oh, I forgot to mention! Samantha is sporting formal wear from the collection "Adam and Eve--Before the Fig Leaves." It costs a total of ninety thousand dollars!
Nancy: How decadent!
Steve: Decadent?
Nancy: Yes, I believe that's some sort of hard-candy. Wow, Steve. Look how artful and tasteful that formal wear is!
*SWIMWEAR*
Nancy: Steve! Stop drooling and comment on the contestant's bikinis like a mature older gentlemen who isn't gay!
Steve: Impossible!
Nancy: Is that girl wearing a manta ray for a top?
*PERSONALITY QUIZ*
Steve: Rebecca, what do you want to see in the world today?
Rebecca: ...world peace.
Steve: Besides that. You used that for the last twenty-seven questions.
Rebecca: Oh...um..............cleaner makeup kiosks in the mall.
Steve: Me too, Rebecca. Me too.
*FINALE*
Nancy: Remember girls, deep in our hearts, we're ALL winners!
Steve: Except the forty-nine of you who've lost! Haha!

See? Now why can't pageants be more like that? Oh, wait...they are, aren't they?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww
Check it out people.

Experimenting with Songs and Photos. :)

These past few days have been STRESSFUL. I would go into it, but I've vowed never to give you folks a reason to sympathize me. Sympathize...that sounds like a good techno song....haha. Okay. SO. We need a topic for this glorious day, do we not? Let me think...hmm...OKAY. Got it. Today we are going to change around annoying song's lyrics. Are you ready kids? *aye, aye, cap'in!* I can't hear you! *AYE AYE CAP'IN!*

First victim to song dissection and reconstruction experiment (ooo, science-y!)
Title: "One Time"
Artist, if you dare to call them that: Justin Bieber

Lyrics:When I met you girl my heart went "OH MY GOSH IS SHE HIDEOUS!!!!"
Now them RABID WOLVERINES in my stomach wont stop stop And even though it's a struggle COUGH DROPS DIPPED IN BLOOD is all we got So we gonna keep keep climbin till the SUN FALLS DOWN AND HITS ATLANTA.

Oh yeah. I am definitely playing that for a special someone sometime soon. Cue ugly Justin Bieber photo!

Oh yeah!

Next!
First victim to song dissection and reconstruction experiment (ooo, science-y!)
Title: "Party in the USA"
Artist, if you dare to call them that: Miley Cyrus
Lyrics: Jumped in the MOUTH OF AN ALLIGATOR
Here I am for the first time
Looked to my right and I see GODZILLA ATTACKING THE TOWN
This is all so crazy
Everybody seems so ZOMBIE-LIKE...OMG, IS THAT BILLY RAY CYRUS TAKING DOWN A GORILLA!?

Cue ugly Miley Cyrus picture!
CHUBBY! I am sooo immature

There you have it. I have officially destroyed the already destroyed. Yay! I just read this on someone's myspace:
Person: "Are you goth?"
Ok, I had no idea once you're officially a stereotype like goth, emo, jock, prep, WHATEVER, that people have to ask you. I mean, I think they'll stop asking you if you ARE one...but, then again, I found this on her profile





So I guess she felt the need to declare it via decorative art style....
I guess I'll have to do it too.








The end.

Dumb Quote Safari!

There are SO many great quotes out there. People use quotes all the time. Personally, I think some of them are just too deep. To think of a great quote is to have too much time on your hands---Me.
So, tonight, I have decided to conjure several odd-ball quotes. Let's see what we can find! *puts on Safari hat*

'Radio has no future.' - Lord Kelvin, 1897

'Heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible.' - Lord Kelvin

Whoever Lord Kelvin is, he really had nothing going for him, predictions wise. "I predict this blog will not have over 20 followers!"--Lord Kelvin. Let's see if he's wrong again! :D

'The Internet is a great way to get on the Net.' - Bob Dole

Life is very important to Americans.' - Bob Dole

I bet Bob's friends in High School called him Captain Obvious. Or Dull-Witted Dole.

I was recently on a tour of Latin America, and the only regret I have was that I didn't study Latin harder in school so I could converse with those people.' - Dan Quayle

This is a great quote to quote to platinum-bleach-blondes. They'll just nod and smile and ask for your number only to make you wait for them to call. Dang you, Barbie. Dang you.

'A zebra does not change its spots.' - Al Gore on George Bush (1992)

I don't think Electoral College voters made you lose, Al. I think that COMMENT made you lose, Al. You should be friends with Dan and Bob.


'I have opinions of my own --strong opinions-- but I don't always agree with them.' - George Bush

Or maybe, Al, you should be friends with George....

"Smoking kills. If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life." - Brooke Shields


Brooke...no, you know what, I'm not even gonna go there.

"I think that the film Clueless was very deep. I think it was deep in the way that it was very light. I think lightness has to come from a very deep place if it's true lightness."
- Alicia Silverstone

Someone's CLUELESS.

And last, but not least:
"Caution: Cape does not enable user to fly."
-Batman costume warning label

This explains why I had broken legs as a child. ;)

Thank you, Internet, for showing me the ways of stupidity. You truly are the greatest way to get on the Net. ;)

Comment Phobias, Procrastinating, and Odd Words

Are you people scared to comment? I promise the blog won't bite you. That's the OTHER blog--you know, the one that sounds exactly like mine. THAT blog will bite you, but I wouldn't blame that blog--it was raised eating Velveeta. Velveeta is like the government's way of saying "We seriously do believe that you can seriously believe you're eating cheese when we all seriously know...it's plastic." Comment, PLEASE, if you care about polar bears! Because for every comment you post, we're one step closer to helping out those against Global Warming! How? I have no idea, but just wait and see!
Are you a Procrastinator? Me too. I WOULD tell you WHY I'm a procrastinator, but maybe some other time. Here are a few words that sound weird after repeating them.

• Participle. Think about it. If you say this slowly, you start to feel dirty.
• Exfoliate. Sounds like some sort of sheep holocaust to me. "Let's get some sheep and EXFOLIATE them!!!"
• Buoyant. I think of some weird science experiment melding boys with insects.
• Harsh. It sounds like you have a speech impediment. Harrrssssshhhhhhhh *spittle spittle spittle*sssshhhhhhhhhhhh!!!
• Glue. This word is how I imagine a turtle would sound if you stepped on it. *walking...steps on turtle* Turtle: G-LUUUEEEE!
• Amsterdam. Don't you feel ashamed? AH! AMSTERDAM! It's like a hamster curse word. "MY WHEEL IS BROKE! AMSTERDAM!"
• Lard. ba-da-da-da-da! I'm lovin' it. Lard is the visual image you get when a fat person talks.
• Cantaloupe. It's when antelopes elope with an envelope down a slope. Seriously, though, it reminds me of antelope eloping in Vegas with a huge moose dressed like Elvis pronouncing them man and wife.
• Taffeta. It should be a new kind of pudding.
• Tapioca. Instead of a nasty-pudding, this should be an exotic dance. "We danced the tapioca until the sun rose in the north!!!"

Now you can see why I belong on a short bus.

"Stay" a poem by me. Written Similiarly to Lewis Carroll's "The Walrus and the Carpenter".

"The time has come," the good friend said," to address these nasty things,
Why you are such a let down,
When I have given you wings.
The time has come," the close friend said," to wash all memories away,
The ones we've built with our bare hands,
The ones we've let astray.
The time has come," the lonely friend cried," to let the moonlight die,
To forget all those good ole days,
To say our final goodbyes."
"The time has come," the second friend replied, "to pretend you're not upset,
To try to re-build the broken dreams,
And once again, to forget."
But the first friend shook her head as she slowly faded away,
She wished it all could be different,
But her friend would never stay.
And while the moonlight cried,
The stars shone brighter than before,
For when one friendship dies,
A new one walks through the door.

GPMS--Women and the Global Positioning System

Today I am over-loading the Inkling community with useless information, because, well, that's what blogging's for, right? Also, I feel absolutely lonely and terrible for leaving you post-less for the past week or so. So feel free to take some aspirin, because today you are going to be overloaded in ***NEW POSTS***
WHAT is the deal with women and GPSs? I went to our state's Capitol and I had to have an assigned driver. So, it was this old woman who had a GPS. She got lost EVERY.DAY. I asked her why didn't she use her GPS? Her reply? "I don't have a GPS, I have a Tom-Tom." Dear Lord. I said "Why don't you program your 'Tom-Tom' to get us to the capitol?" She says? "The capitol doesn't have an address." Are you insane, old woman? No, don't answer that. This woman doesn't know how to work the air-conditioning in the car she's had for years. But, DOES the Capitol have an address? I would guess so, considering WE SEND BILLS TO BE PASSED THERE. Food for though, people. Food.for.freaking.thought.
My mother also refused to use our GPS, which is why I was in our state capitol for an hour more than we should be. Listen, I know the voice is condescending, but don't.refuse.the.instructions!!!

In OTHER news, I'm feeling sorta down because of a friend of mine. Have you ever grown up with a close and personal friend and then they change everything about themselves? It makes you start to wonder: Which one is the REAL person? My friend got a boyfriend the other day and didn't call me...I had no idea she even LIKED anyone. She also says she doesn't believe in love, so I'm wondering why she's getting a boyfriend?

I didn't get an Easter egg to paint this year, so I painted my blog script. You like? BTW, here is some invisible chocolate for you to consume. One year, my best friend and her brother and I performed an Easter play for our family. They found it very disrespectful. Probably because instead of Judas dipping his bread in the bowl, our Judas was choking on candy and Jesus pats him on the back saying "You okay buddy?" Yeah...we were eight then...

Welcome Home, Inklings, Welcome Home!

Where have I been? Well, I'm intending to tell you! Because the poll is shut down and I'm lazy, I'll try to make this as lively as possible and you have to COMMENT and tell me which parts are true. Here we go!

I was kidnapped last Monday and shoved into a bright blue van filled with alien teenage girls and one great big panda-horse, a rarity on the roads these days. They shoved me in the corner and forced me to listen to the monotonous thing we all know as News Radio. My ears began to gush out gelatin and several people were slapping me with noodles. Suddenly, we pulled over to a foul-smelling establishment which only forced you to eat breakfast food that smelled like ruwbber. We immediately left due to the large cowboys holding up the restaurant and fled to Hell, or, as many know it, a place where girls are forced to wear itchy outfits and stabbing foot mechanisms. There I was tortured day in day out and I was forced to sleep on the plush carpeting of a hotel stuffed full of charismatic woodland creatures. I fled the premises with my Mother, and then she shipped me off to be screamed at by insensitive wildebeests all while being judged by orange clad men.

The End.

Mini-rant, which, as we all know, is the cousin to mini-van minus the screaming children and peeved soccer mom but with all the stress and violence: Don't you hate people telling you what to do? What's worse is when people your AGE tell you what to do. I mean, no one acted like that when I was six years old.

FAKE SITUATION:
Tommy: Gimme your play-doh! You know that's not good to eat!
Me: What are you talking about?! This stuff is from the gods!
REAL SITUATION:
Tommy: Can I help you eat that play-doh?
Me: Go ahead!! This stuff is from the gods!!!

When I act immature, I expect you to be mature and act immature with me also so we balance the immaturity to a level of maturity the mature ones cannot understand. Understand? Of course not. But if you're gonna yell at me, at least age twelve more years. Then I may actually care.

Kids need to stop spending so much time trying to grow up. Just be kids, elsewise you would have ended up like Benjamin Button and be born a crinkly old man.



COMMENT!