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.