Are You Sweating Because I'm Hot? Oh, No Air-Conditioner? Makes More Sense..

Things I Do That I Think Looks Attractive but in Reality Makes Me Look Crazy:

1. Lip sync to music. I realize now that this could be seen as me talking to myself.
2. Air-guitar-ing to songs I can play. No one really knows I know how...they just see me rocking out...or me having a seizure, whatever.
3. Biting my lips. This could very well be an early sign to pre-cannibalistic tendencies.
4. Widening my eyes. Conversation that follows this action is this "Are you in pain?" "No, I'm just trying to look mysteriously at wonder." "Oh...."
5. Wringing my hands. I'm trying for innocent vulnerability, but coming off as a nervous break down. Story of my life.
6. Looking down. Me: I'm sensitive and shy! Men: Did she lose a quarter?
7. Smirking. I'm attempting sexiness. Is it working? No? Oh, you think I'm mocking you? Well, now that you mention it...
8. Pretending to be Tired. This is a desperate cuddle attempt. But others find it along the lines of "Crap, I'm boring." You gotta realize, I'm always tired. The many downfalls of being a mermaid at nighttime.

Mermaids >Vampires

You ever wonder if you're actually good at something but you're too scared to just put it out there for everyone to judge? Yeah, me too.

Comment.

A Road Trip and Slipping Seriousness

For the first time, I am randomly craving some muffins. Just thought you should be aware.

Alright, I have been trying to blog these posts for eons and eons, so please excuse how random they may seem. Well, actually, no need to excuse it, because I know you know I know you know I'm already random.

This past week, I went to my Beloved City, which is Chicago. It was very...odd there, but I plan to go back. Actually, I plan a whole big Road Trip, so big and so important that it deserves capital letters. This road trip will occur the second I graduate and includes whoever jumps in the van with me and actually helps out with costs. So far, I have one person. Well, I just made up that cost thing, so he may back out... But I'll be going no matter what. Where to? No idea, but these things shall occur during the Road Trip:

• Stop at every antique mall
• Take pictures of the quirky things/beautiful things I pass
• Visit strange historical sites
• Go exploring randomly
• Make a mix CD
• Pick wildflowers
• Pack less (my mom packs, like, the entire house, but we always forget something IMPORTANT)
• Bring my ukulele
• Frequently picnic

A lot of people find road trips to be stressful and boring, but it's like, when I'm on the road, I get crazy-creative and the little car I'm in is like a gun and I'm the bullet. When I get out, there'll be no stopping me. On the last road trip, I wrote a zillion things down and I felt so alive. Writing does that to me. Makes everything brighter and makes my lungs clear. It's better than anything in the whole world.

Something that bothers me about myself is that I like to pretend I don't need anyone, but I know deep down, I need everyone way too much. So I'm continually at war, I guess. I have no idea why I told you all that, but hey, I said March was full of surprises, so that one just surprised me. :) Does anyone else feel the way I do? Comment.

"I Open My Lungs, Dear. I Sing This Song at Funerals."

You see freaky hair everywhere. Even here. But here, we dig deeper than the hair. We look into the soul. Because we care here at My Mother Was a Rose. That, and we love to make fun of weird people.

Let's name this man Raymond. Raymond was once a police officer down in New Orleans. Then his wife left him and took everything except her hair ties. So, in a moment of depression and panic, Raymond took her hair elastics and did this to himself. He fancies that he's a pretty lady, so his friends just act like it's normal.

His name was Francis. He loved his mother until she died from choking on a sponge. Don't ask. Every since then, Francis copes by shoving on all this ridiculous makeup and wearing this wig. You can catch him singing to Cher in the shower, or on the drag-queen stage.

Natasha was always a big fan of the Lion King. So when she lost all her brain cells while starving herself to be a model, she told her hairstylist Francisco to make her look like this. Since then, she has not had one boyfriend, but now lives with seventeen cats all named Simba. Bless you, Natasha.

forgive my horrible font/size disorder. I have no clue what the heck is going on.

All titles are song lyrics I've listened to while blogging.

"All That's Waiting is Regret"

Bam! Bam! CHICKAPOW! WOOP! BANG! ALAKAZAM! ZOINK!

You people. You always copy my blog. Then you forget it exists. My blog is not a one night stand. Seriously, it loves commitment. Subscribe to it, so at least it feels like your little fling is still something you think about late at night while you ferociously type into your blog that chances are will bore you.

I'm just teasing, halfway. Although, this blog has inspired 11 blogs and counting. So, here is all the advice I shall ever give you, and after that, I'm shutting up. Because although I wish you well, about only 4 of those 11 actually stuck to it.

~advice~

1. Do not tell me about everything about your day. Now, you can tell me interesting bits, but if it goes like "Today, I ate a sandwich, thought of my ex-girlfriend, and then read a whole book in the bathroom", then people don't care anymore. You gotta be fresh. Like this "Today, I had a near-death experience choking on my sandwich. Do people actually die from that? Gosh, wouldn't that be awful? I can see my ex-girlfriend crying at my funeral and be all sobbing and wailing "I TOLD HIM LAY OFF THE HAM AND CHEESE! BUT DID HE LISTEN?! NOOO!" But I'm safe. So safe that I read an entire book while in the little boys room. Because, genius like this don't just die on sammichs. I'm not going out like Mama Cass." Now, don't do that exactly, but twist wit and unusual facts in as much as possible. BASICALLY: NO BLAND NEWS.
2. Do not EVER use names, situations, or events that people can easily guess who you are talking about. That is considered GOSSIP and I pinky promise, they will read it, and you will have drama. I've unfortunately realized this several times. If you're good at being vague, you can POSSIBLY talk about it. But, if you're a noob, just lie low.
3. DO focus on your topic DON'T focus on your layout. If it draws the readers' attention away, chances are, they're not technically readers. Eh?

That is all my advice. If you seek more, meet me on the mountainside with six fat opera singers. Then carefully milk a newt and inject it into your fifth opera singer's vein, while slapping the thigh of the third. Then quote all you can from Princess Bride. THEN, and only then, shall I answer your blogging questions. Either that, or Facebook me. Or ask me out. ;D Just joking, prospective marriage proposals!

Bang! Zoop! Wonk! Beeep! Scadobadoo!

The freakiest thing I have ever seen (besides my hair when I wake up after taking a shower) would be in sixth grade when I worked at a haunted theater. I kid you not, this place was legit haunted. I had heard several stories about it, but you know, I'm a natural cynic, therefore, a natural skeptic. Then, one day while rehearsing, my best friend and I were playing a game with my other friend (I think hide and seek). We ripped open the Boy's Dressing Room door, trying to find our other friend, but he wasn't there. We decided to look around (C'mon--it's where BOYS get to go! Why wouldn't I?). We were having a ball messing around with all the props when we heard this rattling behind us. We turned and saw the doorknob shaking like someone was jiggling it from the other side. I laughed, thinking it was my friend, and opened the door. No one was on the other side. My girl friend and I called out his name, expecting him to pop out, but he was nowhere to be seen. I looked back at the door and pointed. At the angle which the door was ajar, you could see both handles. They were both shaking vigorously without either of us laying a hand on it. We ran off, and tried to tell our other friend, but he just laughed and he still doesn't believe we saw what we saw. I know what we saw. And it was real. I promise. It was real.

"The mirror never lies. I see what they see. Do you not see what they see? A mirror never lies. Everybody knows. Everybody knows!"--Alesana.

"Scotty Liked All the Books That I Recommended"

One. I threw up today. A lot. While watching everyone in my youth group throw up. Just so you know, drinking blended Chicken Strips, Ketchup, Sprite, and Fries is something that will make me never eat Sonic again in my entire life. I do not even want to describe the sickness I feel. Two. I miss you, too, person whose blog I just read. (That was for just that person, not you other random peeps.) Three. Now that I said peeps, I am reminded of this day I worked at the library, and my boss brought these boxes of peeps and we blew them up in the microwave. We pretended they were jousting. Best. Boss. Ever. Four. I wrote down all these upcoming blog ideas in church. I seriously did listen in church, but when you have a good idea, you just gotta capture it like a wild zedonk, which is a zebra/donkey hybrid. If you don't believe me, look it up.

So, I was reminded of my Girl Scout experiences while turning down some cute little Daisy Scouts at Reasor's. Wait, first of all, what is the method of naming the Scout levels? Daisies, Brownies, Juniors, Cadets. Obviously, someone was tripping on shrooms while naming these organizations.

Founder of Girl Scouts: What should we call the kindergarten group?

Pot Smoker Name-Delegator: DAISIES!!!!!!!

F.o.G.S.: What about the elementary?

P.S.N.D: BROWNIES!!!!!

F.o.G.S.: Middle school?

P.S.N.D: ...Juniors.

F.o.G.S.: High school?

P.S.N.D.: CADETS!

F.o.G.S.: You sneaked pot into the Thin Mints again, didn't you?

P.S.N.D: .....

Seriously, though, Girl Scouts was not fun at all. The best thing we ever did was go to San Antonio, the only respectable place in Texas, in my opinion. But there was this girl who used to pee on my bed every camping trip and this other girl who tried to sleep in my bed every night because she was scared of spiders and this other chick who spat Jell-o all over me. ... Not fun. I don't really get what I learned from them, except maybe, using them to actually get a decent Summer Vacation to Sea World...maybe.

LIST TIME! ...You seriously didn't think I'd let you go away without a list?

My lust list. No, perverts. I mean, things I really want but cannot afford due to me having the same income as a dead guy.

• Oxford shoes. Oooohhhh good grief. So classy. So simple. Brrr sends shivers down my spine. The only thing better than a girl in Oxfords is a dude in Oxfords, because that is just plain classy. Way to go, Stylish Man. You rock my world.

• Wild Things by Dave Eggers. The cutest, most beautiful book I've read in a long time. Totally kicks Twilight's sparkly little butt. (Although I do actually enjoy Twilight. Just not the "Twilight Phenomena". Get a life, People Who Pretend to Read.

• A Bird Cage. So I can tie a string of paper cranes to it, like they're coming out? Above my bed :D And inside will be all the letters I have, because my letter box is A)LAME! and B) A shoebox.

"THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS!" "SHUT UP!!!!"

Things That Annoy Me. (I'm being a negative Nancy today, Inklings.)
1. People clicking, biting, or cleaning their fingernails. Once, in an airplane, the woman next to me was digging one fingernail into the other, making a scratching-clicking noise. I slapped her hand and said "STOP!" without even realizing that I had no clue who she was.
2. Cold coffee. Note that I did not say "iced" coffee, because that is the only coffee I enjoy. But when you just let your hot coffee sit there? It insults the expresso.
3. Girls' bra straps sticking out of their tanktops. If you don't know, tanktops are what you wear OVER YOUR BRA SO NO ONE SEES YOUR STUPID BRA. Geez.
4. Sweaty men staring at me when I do the weird leg exercises at the YMCA. Get a life, creeper. Better yet, get to work, because your sweating pot belly is the only thing *I'M* staring at.
5. The sun. I like daytime. Just not shining in my eyes.
6. When someone does not make their affection known. Are we in love? Are we in like-like? Do I remind you of your mother? Help me out, here.
7. Someone Who Keeps Talking. If my head is towards the wall or I just replied "Yeah.", chances are, you are a boring person. And if you keep talking, you are transformed into a boring idiot.
8. Sesame seeds. Bleh bleh bleh.
9. Cheerful people. It actually depends on the person. If you're cheerful but sympathetic, cool. If you're cheerful even after a kitten gets massacred at an old folks' home? You're sick.
10. Someone tells you "I had a dream about you" and they go on and you realize they're making this up as they go along. Apparently, some men find this as flirtatious.
11. The obsession with black nail polish. Cool, it's black. Now, let's move on.
12. Math.
13. The word "Participle" and the word "awesome". One is just plain dirty sounding and the other is overused.
14. One-word Texters. How you people manage to date people, or even manage to have people in your address book amazes me. Not in a good way. Seriously, why do you even own a phone? Do you call people? No, you don't. To call someone, you'd have to be slightly conversationally adept, and by clear example, you're not.
15. Reality TV. Last time I checked, getting drunk at a party and having sex with strangers without getting herpes was not reality. And no, I did not really check.
16. THE PHRASE "OKAY THEN." If you have a problem, okay, cool, you can say that. But if you use it in the sense of "Okay then..." chances are I'm a freak to you. Which, you can just say "You're weird." It's a lot less condescending and a lot more clear.
17. Old lady hugs.
18. Hot Soup Falling All Over My Legs. Welcome to what just happened.
19. People Getting Mad at You for Staring Into Space When No One is Talking. What, do you want me to stare at your pimples and begin to count them out loud? No? Then shut up.

Question, Question, I've Got a Question

Hello everyone! I hope you're doing absolutely ravishing! (When I say ravishing, I always see a wolf swallowing a sammich...) Today, I lacked creative spirit but wanted to post SOMETHING ANYTHING WHATEVER THE HECK I WANT. So, I asked the lovely community of Facebook to ask me questions, and here I would type back my witty responses. *Wittiness glitters around my answers*

1st question:

From Megan McMillan, one of the prettiest people ever and the person I stalk a WHOLE BUNCH on Facebook (yes, I admitted it.)

Q: Why are you so beautiful?

A: I am flattered! Well, I'd like to say that my mommy is beautiful and my sister is beautiful and my dad is...not beautiful. But the fact that I look nothing like any of these people make me question where I exactly got all my slightly good-looking-ness. So, I would say, as a small child I fell in a mermaid pond and they blessed me with nice blonde hair

and eyes that change color, but then skipped out on a lot of mermaid gifties like self-confidence and breathing underwater.

2nd question:

From Janey Sueberry Weast, whose middle name I created and who is the one friend I could trust to be my maid of honor if any man actually wants

to marry this bundle o' crazy.

Q: What's the meaning of a dolphin's life?

A: Several theologians have debated heatedly about this question. It's gotten so bad, that one professor of Idealogy smashed the Professor of Thoughtmotology's glass figurines of pelicans. After seventeen billion years of research, the one thing everyone decided on was this: Dolphins are basically here to whoop the crap outta sharks and still be so darn cute. Interesting, disturbing and true fact about dolphins: Dolphins are the only other species of animal that practice homosexuality and also the only other animal that has sex for fun and not multiplying. Ewwwwww. Sounds like the cast of Jersey Shore and dolphins go hand in hand...

3rd question:

From Tyler Edmounds, the camp buddy that makes me laugh the most and also the man in this picture which I had to exploit:

Q: Why do fortune cookies stop telling the future?!

A: Because the little Chinese man who wrote all the future fortunes died and now fortune cookie writers have no future, so they just settled for his understudy, The Little Chinese Man With Useless Advice

Fourth Question:

From Cody Soots, the undisputed class clown of my school, also my personal Asian hero.

Q: They say butter toast always lands butter side down and cats always land on their feet. So if you were to butter a cat's back what would happen?

A: Thanks to recent scientific study, we have discovered that cats would explode into giant quantities of money, therefore, making this not only a good excuse for getting rid of cats, but also paying scientists in the process.

Fifth Question:

From Josh Linton, my fellow blog buddy and also my youth minister who always likes to mention the grossest stories in the Bible.

Q: How do I get rid of the trolls under my bed?

A: Well, it depends on your type of troll. The common house troll is a very persnickety fellow who enjoys the damp shadiness of your bed's underbelly. The only proven way to get rid of him is to sing the theme song to "Friends" as loudly as possible, driving him out immediately. HOWEVER, if you don't be observant, this could be an exotic Burmese troll, which is known for swallowing youth minister souls. If that is the case, you are doomed. Unless you hire me (under pay of Ticonderoga pencils) to do your dirty work for you.

As for the other random questions asked by Megan: yes, in my spleen, I'd tell you I love you but I'd have to kill you.

Happy Birthday!

Congratulations, Inklings! I have kept you all in my virtual clutches for a year and two days! Some of you are dedicated followers, and I want you to know that your support and love has got me through so many doubts in my writing career. Even those ghosties who check up on this blog every once and awhile, thanks for fake-liking it enough to subscribe. I would blog more, but I'm a little dry on hilariousness, so I just want to give you a big ole thank you and say that I wish I was smart enough to plan an Inkling party to celebrate. Instead, I plan on some fun surprises appearing on this blog very soon. Stay tuned, kiddos.

This Is Why I am Better Than Gossip Girl

Dear Authors of Teen Girl Novels:

Hi. I'm a sixteen year old girl. I'm irresponsible, I argue with my parents, and I am boy crazy. I have friends at school, I have enemies on Facebook, and I listen to sappy love songs on a regular basis and quote them four times daily. I love to dance, to stay up late, and make an idiot of myself.

I do not, on the other hand, have sex with anything that moves and resembles a male species who is "hot". I also do not sabotage my friends. I do not date boys for only their status and their looks. I do not say "like, totally" in every sentence. I do not want to date a vampire. I do not find sex casual or even appealing considering, um, hello, I have Algebra 2, not Lose Your Panties 101. I do not illegally do anything and not get caught. I do not lie to the people who trust me to get whatever the heck I want and expect no consequence.

Please stop trying to relate to and influence me. You obviously have no idea who I am or what my generation is like. I don't give a crap if Abigail had sex on a beach with Brett and they are madly in love. Because I know, chances are, Abigail is sobbing her eyes out as she watches Brett make out with some girl who wears more makeup than Abigail ever did, and now Abigail has no self worth and found out she's pregnant and has no means to support a family.

Get freaking real. And do the world a favor and quit writing.

Sincerely,

The Girl Who Just Wasted Four Hours Reading Your Novel Hoping That One Speck of Maturity Smacked Your Protagonist in Her Lying Skanky Face yet Never Received Such Satisfaction.

Laugh at My Expense, Then Buy Me a Frap.

Stupid stuff I do/did/will do:

1. When I was in kindergarten, I learned a weird phrase. I repeated this phrase to every student I met, and also, to their delight, my teachers. This phrase concerned them so much that my mother was called and she had to explain what dark connotations were associated with my newfound favorite two words combined. The phrase? "Simple suicide!"
2. The first time I called a boy, his mother answered thanks to the still-popular-use of the home phone system. Unfortunately, I was so nervous about calling this boy that I mistook his mother for him and went on and on about something unrelated until she informed that she, in fact, was his mother, who, in fact, is a woman. I have never spoken to this boy again, and I have never called a boy's home phone unscheduled again.
3. Once, on a day when I had a boyfriend, I spied someone walking into a Mexican restaurant. Being ever-so-cool and hip, and also being horridly near-sighted, I said to my boyfriend "Is that a man or woman!? I can't tell! I think man! What do you think?" His response? "That's my mom."
4. One day, I will die. But not from murder or anything. No, I am going to die because I will be very unaware that my side is bleeding or my brain leaped out or something else obvious. I know this because I have four bruises, two cuts, and three burns on me at this moment and I have no clue from where I have received these injuries. I swear, you could stab me and I would keep talking about something. Then, two days later, I'd look down and say "Hmm, I seem to be dying" and then die.
5. In fourth grade, my fourth grade teacher was discussing the Fruits of the Spirit. I was a brown-noser and shouted as soon as she finished off the list of spiritual fruits: "If those are the fruits, you must be a FRUITCAKE!" Only a few minutes later, after death glares from her, did I learn that fruitcake means crazy in a generation older than my own.
6. I misheard the lyrics "Would you rather be a widow or a divorcee?" as "Would you rather be a weedhole or a debortion?" Neither word exists, by the way.
7. Two days ago, I was getting water in a glass at a party. I then realized that I rarely ever put ice in my water or drink, and when I do, I consider it a special treat. Flipping through the files of my mind, I discovered that the fact I considered it was a treat was not due to appreciation of luxury or even depravity of ice. Instead, I realized that I always consider it to be extra calories, and I avoid ice so I don't get fat. Ice is made of frozen water. Water has no calories. I still refuse to put ice in.
8. Three or four days ago, I had the unpleasant experience of having a favorite teacher of mine put her hands on my face. This bothers me because anyone touching me over age 25 is automatically trying to mug me. Then, my friend accidentally pushed me from behind, which sent me deep into the furrows of this woman and feeling her breasts all over me. I am mortified still.

You Can Run with My Thought Wild Horsies.

Today, I come to you with no real ideas running through my head. What a way to motivate you, I know. So, anyways, I'm going to start and we'll see where I finish. *raises shot glass of lemonade* Here goes nothin', Frances. *downs the drink and wipes mouth with determination.*

When I write this blog, I play techno. When I hear techno, I think of this boy who loves techno and I also think of the church bus where I learned how to shake it. Then I think of this awful smell forming in the bowels of this church bus that no one really knows the origin. Then I crinkle my nose and go back to thinking about the boy.

I like to pretend I'm five when I'm sad. Last time I was depressed big time, I made a fort out of blankets and chairs. The time before, I watched cartoons and colored for three hours. Funny thing, when I was five, I was too busy pretending to be thirty to actually notice I was five and it was socially acceptable to be annoying. Wish I took that chance back then.

I have stopped wearing white underwear since fifth grade. I have no idea why, but I don't even touch those things. I know, you all were dying to hear about my undie phobia.

My favorite candy is from England but you can buy it anywhere--Cadbury Carmellos. Weird thing is, even if I scream that this is my favorite candy, I will ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS get candy that is my least favorite. Like Snickers and Skittles. Ew.

Today I went ultimate bargain hunting. I was a bargain poacher. People will lock me up if they discover my bargain abuse. I am Chris Brown and bargains are my Rihanna. Yes, I did just make that joke. Yes, I do know that was very politically incorrect. No, I don't really care.

Every single time I am tired, I do not picture sleeping in my own bed. Calm down perverts. I always imagine sleeping in a hotel bed and it would be raining and cartoons would be playing but I'd be dead asleep. I have no idea why this happens to me, but it does.

The voice I hear in my head when I think is the voice of Paul McCartney sing/talking in "A Day in the Life". I discovered this while riding in the car with my dad and listening to that song, when all of a sudden, I thought everyone could read my thoughts because they were singing along every word my head was saying. Then I got just how weird I truly am.

I save messages on my phone. One is my best friend saying she thinks I sing like a beast in a good way and the other is someone saying I love you for the first time.

I like the sound of feet on cement.

My new favorite song is all in French. Today, when I looked up the words in English, it made almost no sense. I also learned a cuss word.

Today I bought a phone with a curly cord. I have no home phone service, or even a phone jack. I just like pretending to get calls from the government to go on a secret mission. I also have abused my rights as a book nerd and bought three books from 1954 just to decorate my room and not read them. God, forgive me.

I saw the sister of my ex boyfriend today at Hot Topic and found out he was across the mall. In a place with giant windows. He probably saw me.