Confesssion time!

I stalk mommy blogs.

There, I said it.

I'm not ashamed, but I do aknowledge that this is odd, considering I do NOT have kids. (sorry, Dr. Phil. Quit calling me.)

But I find other people's kids so. Freaking. Adorable! I kind of admire the moms, too. I know and admit from NOW that I could not deal with kids on a daily basis. (Not unless "Shut up and go annoy daddy!" is considered dealing with kids. I think not.) Every parent has these moments/days/weeks, but they manage to put it into cyberspace with HUMOR. Sometimes I can't tell if it's the kids or if these people ARE just really that funny. I salute you all: *link time! I'm so happy I can do HTML now.*

Kat
WhisperingWriter
C. Beth

Special section for the dad bloggers!:
LiteralDan

*dad blogger-to-be*The Quarter Thrower (I didn't enter the pool, I suck at guessing...)

Oh, and if you want to know about what I'M doing now, I'm watching the Daytime Emmys. Yea. Go Sesame Street! (I still love that show, shut up. It's awesome.)

FPATEOTP!:



It's a shirt. I WANT IT.

Since "Fuck" times six isn't polite...

It's 6WS!

Button button button:



**The title gives a hint to what I'm really thinking of for my six, but here are some nicer ones**

Mint Milanos = BEST. FOOD. EVER. PERIOD.
(Come on. = isn't a word.)

The fact that I'm out of them accounts for one f***, mostly the other five have to do with all the non-relaxing-perfect-Saturday-I-wanted-to-sleep-in-today-dammit stuff I listed yesterday. Is it possible to hate posterboard?

Can a post of complete negativity be fixed by a FPATEOTP?:



It can try. We salute you, comically-oversized-sunglasses dog.

Dear So And So: THE WEEKEND IS HERE!

Dear Friday,

*sings, awful* Have I told you lately I that love you? *knocks it off before you leave* I do. I neglected your awesomeness over the summer, but no more.

I LOVE YOU, FRIDAY!

And let's not forget your awesome cousin, Saturday. Love ya too. ;) I'm two timing you both. Forgive me?

(Sunday is a pain in the ass, because I'm a procrastinator extraordinaire. I DID do some 40+ math problems, but I STILL HAVE 20-ish more math problems and a timeline of the Stone Age to start... *sigh*)

WHOA.

Where'd that negativity come from? IT'S FRIDAY!

THANK YOU GOD IT IS FRIDAY!!! WOOOO!

(Can you tell I'm unreasonably happy? I am. I don't care. This has been the LONGEST WEEK OF MY (albeit short-ish) LIFE.)

Laying off the caps to say: xoxoxoxoxoxxxx
Your biggest fan,

Me.

Dear Monday:

Please do the world a favor and fuck off, 'kay?

Thank you,

Me.

FPATEOTP!:



Aww dammit. It's supposed to say, "Tramp.", but it got cut off.

Me having to explain that makes it no longer funny, doesn't it? Oh well. Just so's ya know. :)

If you've read this far, Happy Friday!

DAKOTA FANNING???!!!?!?

Holy. Shit.

The world is ending.

DAKOTA EFFIN' FANNING? She who has already screwed over Charlotte's Web? Why do you remake people insist on KILLING MY CHILDHOOD? Willy Wonka, Charlotte's Web, The Wizard of Oz... all entirely awful. What next? Kiki's Delivery Service? **side: Going to see Ponyo Saturday! Yay! I'd be happier if the "bonus Jonas" and Miley v.2.0 didn't star, but Miyazaki is AWESOME. Even Disneyfied this should be great!**

Read this and you will understand: Click it and become as enraged as I am

So soon after the GALA SPECTACULAR? What are they trying to pull?

Oh. Fucking. No.

I had to go and open my big fat mouth, didn't I?????!!!?

Join me now in a picto-montage: *plays sad Oscar In Memoriam music*







And now, join me in a moment of silence



The remakes suck. Always. Period.

FPATEOTP time!



Wait, is this funny, or one of those things that should make me fear for the sake of humanity?

I get those confused sometimes.

Faily Faily Fail Boat

Blehrg, so I haven't been blogging as much. The first day of high school officially was today, and so far it's fine, I'm really not freaking out as much, but I can truly say I hate the adminitration there. Not the teachers, in the stereotypical "Fuck authority" way, but I could probably run that school more effectively. It's SO disorganized it's not funny. There are 2,700 students or something like that, and they can't even change ONE thing on my ID. These things should not be that difficult. I understand all of them are very busy, but that does not mean they can be rude. They can at the very least listen. Remember the SIX PILARS OF CHARACTER? Yeah, it's right there, in your little "mission statement". Included in these six (realtivey simple) values to follow are RESPECT and RESPONSIBILITY. If you want all the students here to comply with those, do so yourself. Be a role model.

*end rant mode*

Alrighty, so this blog has consisted more of FAIL than actual blog, but I'm trying. Things are hectic right now. I haven't even checked my reading list in a while, so I'm going on a bit of a commenting spree on all of the (completely awesome) blogs I follow. *read 'em read 'em read 'em! linky on the side.*

I'm currently playing with one of those art gum erasers I had to get a few years ago, when art was a mandatory 6-week class. (At least now it's not. YAY!) I think I used it twice, but now it's fun to pull and stretch and twist and whatnot. Just saw a commercial for Nutella and it looks REALLY GOOD. I know it's more a European thing, I guess now they've realized that Americans love chocolate-nutty spread as much as they do.

FPATEOTP TIME!

I leave you with this:



This is why I hope they figure out some way to fix oldness before I get there.

If I only had a BRAIN!

Whether or not I'm "officially" RSVP-ed for the OZ GALA SPECTACULAR! (more buttons today! Yay!)

Dangit... button isn't working... here's a link to a picture of the button. It's not the same... oh well. And, it seems most of the participants have something Oz related AND crafty. I'm not the crafty type, though I admire people who have the time, patience, and artistic ability to do such things.

I'm just going to settle for blogging about this fantastic movie. It's just perfect in every imaginable way. I loved it as a little kid, and I STILL do. It's timeless. Only in the very beginning, the black and white-- well, really sort of brownish and black and white-- part is it acknowledged that this movie came out in 1939! It's magical. The (very nearly entirely worn out) VHS is somewhere in a box in that closet thing under the stairs. I may go dig it out later. THAT is love. The closet under the stairs is the POINT OF NO RETURN.

I will now share a story about how WoO (yay for abbreviations. Oh, and acronyms that also serve as what you mean to say. WOO!) almost cost me my 1st grade social status:

Early in my first grade year, I had very nearly made a friend. Almost. There was one more question: "What movies do you like?" This was asked by the friend-in-training, (we basically were surveying each other to see what we had in common. This was when you COULD NOT be friends with someone you didn't have almost everything in common with.) So naturally I answered, "The Wizard of Oz" *duh* Don't ask me WHY, I'd seen it recently.

Response:

"Ugh, that's so cheesy."

WHAAAAAT? The best possibly ever and you say it's CHEESY? Well, duh, yes, to some extent. This movie was made some 60ish years ago. (then) I'm sorry they couldn't think up some non-"cheesy" modern plot/technology to amuse you. Your loss.

(I'm still friends with her, and she still stands by her opinion. But, this is coming from someone who puts ice cubes in soup because it's "too hot". Pffft.)

So, that's my non-crafty blog. Just a memory, a bit of nostalgia, and still quite possibly the best movie ever to exist.

Oh, and today is ALSO:



Yay! My six:

I have to go again tomorrow?
(Well, Monday. You get the point.)

As always, if you are unsatisfied with my six, the title is also six. (That ties with the Oz theme.) Pick one.

And noooooowww: Funny Picture At The End Of This Post (hereby known as FPATEOP, this is just too long to type out if I'm going to do this at the end of every post from now on!)



Where's Palin as Dorothy? Teehee. :D

Dear So and So (Open letter containing a punch in the face)

Yes, today comes a blog of TWO-- TWO!-- buttons! Ah ah ah! *insert lightning*



**way more awesome than Edward Cullen**

But I digress... now for the BUTTONS!

This is a



Blog post, containing a VERY SPECIAL



(originated by Cate, who does not have all the coding internetal stuff under her button, possibly because she does not want it used by other people, but hey, it's a good idea!)

Dear York (and the morons who run it:)

You deserve a punch in the face simply because you are huge, unnecessarily complicated, and "parts of you" (because "we" are ALL YORK!!!! YEA! Let's sing! What, you haven't learned the OFFICIAL school song in 3 days?! TRAITOR! Yes, we're all half an inanimate object. That makes total sense...) need convincing that I, a 14 year old, KNOW MY ADDRESS. Yes, I KNOW where I live. YOU are wrong. WHY is that so hard to accept? Oh, and by the way, your mascot is stupid. The dutch have never had dukes, nor is there a York in the Netherlands. It's completely incorrect to say that the Duke is Dutch. The girls sports teams should be the Duchesses, not lady Dukes. What, does the fighting Duchesses sound lame? If nothing else, please try to go for accuracy.

Signed, Freshman Upset. (hooray for anagrams)

Yes, I know now I was freaked out for nothing, now I'm mostly Fed Up. (more anagrams!) The most I could say to any authority figure's face was THANK YOU. And give them a thumbs up. This is really an effective strategy for not swearing and/or flipping people off. Thumbs up is equivalent to up yours in most middle eastern countries, Greece, Iran, most of South America, parts of Italy, Nigieria, and somewhere called Sardinia. Sure, I'm not IN any of those countries, and the people viewing my completely socially acceptable gesture probably have no idea what I REALLY mean, but that's the point. Just to spice things up a little (I had to go through this irritating process muliple times), sometimes I used "OK sign", meaning it in the German way, of course. Asshole. Oh, and in Turkey and Venezuela it means fag. I didn't know that, but either works.

The best way of pulling this off is by accompanying either gesture with a biiiiiig grin. The thumbs upper gets the satisfaction of conveying the vulgar (but sometimes ONLY) messages without the thumbs upp-y's knowledge. The thumbs upp-y thinks that that the upper now understands and agrees. Everyone is happy.



Yup, she has the idea.

And now, to end the blog with the customary, yet absent of late, FUNNY PICTURE!



Man I miss the Muppets.

I feel like puking less...

I'll take that as a good sign.

Seriously, I know these are what people call "the jitters" (although like everything having to do with being a panicky crazy ball of mush, it's multiplied about 600 times for me.) and I KNOW in a year or so I'll be all "LOL. Freshmany n00b." (though hopefully not exactly like that. I try to chatspeak as little as possible.) Heck, maybe in a few MONTHS or so. But having perspective on how stupid this is does not make me STOP acting stupid. It seems real at the moment.

I'm having less of an actual breakdown currently, it'll come back at around 2 in the morning to bite me, though. So if there's another post today that goes something like "sjgigigjgiegjbmdfkgode9t9tgfmdlg.dflklffk.kdsdklkdckldlkfkfkdfdggtioes!!!!", disregard and assume it's me, sitting in the dark, rocking back and forth and banging my head on the keyboard.

I had to stay up all night last night just to be tired enough to fall asleep at a normal hour tonight. I do that a lot. It's like a self-inflicted sedative, sometimes it works.

I think I'm returning to normal, because my sense of humor (if you can call it that) is coming back. Here's a quote:

Bye bye life
Bye bye happiness
Hello loneliness
I think I'm gonna die
I think I'm gonna die

-- "Bye Bye Life"

Yep, that sums it up. It's such an emotasmic song, yet so catchy at the same time.

Nervous Breakdown in 3...2...1...

Boom.

Freaking out already, actually. I don't have to physcially ENTER the kelly green hellhole for approximately another 35 and half hours, but it's already entered my pyche...

Sure, Friday is only "freshman day", so that we're the ONLY grade in the entire school. That's still about... 650 people, plus teachers, and a handful of creepy, mustachioed janitors. I don't even HAVE FUCKING SCHOOL SUPPLIES!! There was NO LIST, as there has been in previous years. And even though I have some vague idea of what's needed, i.e: pens, notebooks, graph paper, pencils, all that stuff... I DON'T HAVE ANY OF IT. My mother's rationale is that I won't need anything for the 8 minute periods I'll have Friday, and that we'll buy all that crap over the weekend. My mom is a much more laid-back, tattoo getting sort of person. I freak out over EVERYTHING. I'm literally shaking right now, I'm sure a full-blown anxiety attack will ensue tomorrow. I should stop writing, it's only making it worse.

No funny picture today. Not even that would cheer me up.

Semi-Cross-Posting

Yes, I didn't blog yesterday, but I have blogged today already *click the link for the explanation of the sheerly MADNESS filled day that caused my BLOG FAIIL yesterday*

Wow, this is short. Let's make it look longer with a PICTURE! Here:



Have a cookie. :D

Un-Random Prompts

My deep well of interesting thoughts has finally run dry. So, I turned to the Internet.

Thanks, random prompt generator.

Except that presumably the idea of this is to take the first one the randomizer spits at you and run with it, but I took the easy way out and passed up a few before I got a few I'd like to elaborate on.

Are you afraid of death?
Answer: To be honest, I almost skipped this one. Is that a sign of denial? I mean, it's inevitable, but I prefer not to think about it now. This is either because I'm a champion procrastinator, or further denial. No one WANTS to think about death until it's (practically) staring them in the face. It crosses every one's mind once in a while, but if it consumes too much thought anyone is likely to go insane. (Wait, am I being too general? Well, goo for you if you can HONESTLY say that you could go one entire day relating every thought you have to death. Express train to Crazytown, I assure you.)

So, in short, do I FEAR death? A little. Not enough to work it into my daily thoughts and actions. Do I WANT to die? No.

Okay, trying to find a happier "random" prompt.

These next few have nothing to do with me... What was your first car? What do you think of your children? To both: I'm sure I'll love them when I meet them. Write a rhyming poem about your car?!??!?

Oh.

I think I killed it.

The screen now reads, "Imagination Prompt Generator needs a nap.".

Ok, no matter WHAT it is, I vow to write about the absolute next prompt.

"If I could change my..."

Change my what? Oh, I get it. This is where the "imagination" comes in. There's really several ways that sentence could end, so I'll list a few:

...family, I wouldn't. Really. They're all nuts, but so am I. I've grown quite attached to them.

... dentist appointment; YES PLEASE. I hate the dentist, and I also don't see the difference between a dentist and an orthodontist. Why can't I just have ONE of you poking around in my mouth? (and coincidentally looking up my nose? Nose pervs.) It just so happens I have a dentist appointment Saturday. AND an orthodontist appointment the following Tuesday, which just so *HAPPENS* to be the second day of school. The enormous, Kelley green clad, Englishmen-mascotted public high school I will be attending. (That's right: GOOOOO DUKES! Oh, the noble duke of York... *facepalm* The only worse mascot I can think of at the moment is out *fierce* rival, the Hilltoppers. Not the king of the hill, naw. They just get to stand on it.) Salt meets wounds.

So, maybe that's why I'm being bitter. Or maybe it's because my dentist is a sadistic psychopath. *side: When I spellchecked this, one of the suggestions for my typo was "peacekeeper". I find that hilariously ironic.*

...clothes, I just did. Very comfortable. Mostly because they're pajamas, but they don't LOOK like pajamas, and that's what's awesome about them. If I really had to, I could go out in these clothes and no one would be the wiser. I love pajamas.

...attitude towards life, I'd try. Am currently trying. Not as easy as it looks, but worth a try.

How much can six words say?

I've decided to try my hand/foot/skillz at Six word Saturdaying!



No idea how I'll manage to limit this to six words, as you should know by now I'm an endless chatterbox, so this is like an exercise in willpower for me. Oh, on with my six:

Good MORNING, look at the sun!

I chose this sentence because:

1. It really is BEAUTIFUL outside today.
2. I'm trying to generally be more positive for today at least... as opposed to my last post. *points down*
3. I'm watching the movie from which this is a quote, arguably my absolute favorite movie ever since I was 5, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory(!!! Seriously, this movie is THE BEST. I keep having to stop typing to turn around and watch. *pause for the spectacular flipping entrance* I KNOW the creepazoidal '05 version is closer to the book, but really? GENE WILDER PWNS.) and this happened to be in the background when I was thinking about my six words. Is it a cop-out to use a quote? Oh well, if you don't like it, the title of this post is also *convieniently* six words.

I really must be going now, so much time and so little to do...

Strike that. Reverse it.

(I'm really a quotaholic today, but it's just so darn quotable! That's part of what makes it great!)

The Blurtability of Non-Swears

This pretty much sums today up for me. It's "one of those days.", as much as I hate that phrase. Yeah, it's definitely one of THOSE days. Ya know. When all you can think of to say is:

!@$#&*%.

I TRY not to swear a lot, but today... !@#$%^. Ok, I may have stretched the truth in that last sentence. I try not to swear OUT LOUD, but if my life were a comic strip *I'm still not sure it isn't...* "!@#$%^!" would be in my thought bubble quite a bit. If I do have to swear out loud, I try to use as long a word as I can think up. FUDDRUCKER'S!!! Doesn't really roll off the tongue as nicely, but having to think of longer ones kind of slows down my thought. It's really easy to BLURT a four letter word, but 10 letters isn't as blurtable.

Wow. I just based an entire blog post off of my use of profanity. Or non-profanity, really.

KELLY CLARKSON!!!!!




That is all. Have a nice day. :)

Blackcurrants

I've never had blackcurrants, in jam form or anything else, but they really do NOT sound appetizing to me. I have no logical, logic-based reason why *edit: "Logical logic-based"???!! That's redundant.* *Edit #2: Yes, instead of editing that just change the sentence, I point it out and go Grammar Nazi on myself. Go figure* I don't like them. I know the old saying is, "Don't knock it til you try it." when it comes to food, but I'm NOT picky, really. I've never had the opportunity to eat blackcurrants, so I'm just judging on what the word itself sounds like. I tend to do that a lot. Like, would you ever want to eat something called "food", if you didn't know what it was? It doesn't SOUND pretty. Foooood. It brings to mind the word "goo" or "splooge".

Or maybe it's just me, and as we all have established by now, I'm nuts.



The blackcurrants.




Me. (I made it a point to find "Fancy mixed nuts" off of Google. If you're going to be nuts, do it with some class.

Parents, please take note.

I have FAILED.

Well, I KIND OF didn't... I just didn't blog here yesterday. I blogged on my specific blogging day at the wonderfulRaving Persuasions!

Plenty of moms (and dads) blog about their little kids. LiteralDan andWhisperingWriter are good examples.

(I don't have kids, but I find other people's kids quite amusing. Mostly because I don't have to deal with them.)

Anyway, I've decided to turn the tables and blog about MY MOM. This is basically the gist of yesterday's blog:

MY MOTHER (who is quite *neeeearly* 50, but hates to admit it) WANTS **EVEN MORE** TATTOOS!!! :O

Seriously. Ew. She already HAS some! A flamingo on her thigh, which she wants "recolored", because, well, they fade after you've had them for 30 years or so. And a treble clef on the back of her left shoulder. But nooooo. She wants MORE. She's decided on either an expansion on her treble clef; the opening bars of some Rod Stewart **side: She clipped a black & white picture or him from a magazine --no, her friend did and used it as wrapping paper, but whatever-- she kept it, and now it's under that sun visor-flap thing in her car. JUST the eyes stick out from under the visor. It has a creepy effect. He's creepy.** song. I believe she's chosen "Do You Think I'm Sexy".
*shudder*

Or a leopard on her other shoulder. AND the Detroit tigers logo. This is wrong for many reasons:

A.) WE ARE NOT FROM DETRIOT. She is not a FAN of the Tigers.
B.) SHE WANTS THIS TATTOO ON HER ARM. In full view of the public.
C.) SHE WANTS IT BECAUSE KID ROCK HAS THIS PARTICULAR TATTOO. Really? He is a YOUNGISH, MALE, ROCKSTAR. **You, mother, are NOT. You THINK you are sexy. You DO actually like current-ish music. This is frightening.**

Now I know why moms who blog only have young kids. Because once your kids age, they become DEMON SEEDS. Who have OPINIONS. Everything they say is no longer cute. They can STOP you from doing stupid things. Like getting tattoos.

Mom-bloggers out there, you may think this is bold, daring, cool, whatnot. It is NOT, ok? Would YOU do this to your child? Would you do this to YOURSELF? I mean, I think it's kind of sterotypical to think that all teenagers are punks and hooligans who would kick your dog or steal your purse or something. Some are. Most really aren't.

I DO, however, believe the only *slightly* sterotypical notion that all PARENTS are embarrassing. You may not TRY to be, but YOU ARE. I'm sorry. There is a fiiiine balance between really being cool, and looking like an idiot. You just have to KNOW when to shut up and when to really get involved. WE don't know this, you just have to figure it out.

Anyways, back to my mom's "tats" She will have: (pictures off Google Images, not her.)







*different lyrics and notes, but ya get the point...*

And of course:



Except her arm looks NOTHING like that. It's kind of... squishy.

Parents, mothers, bloggers of the universe, please, PLEASE, do NOT do this to your children. I beg of you.

'Cuz the fortune cookie sez so...

"You are careful and systematic in all your business arrangements."

Business arrangements? What business arrangements? Oh well, it's nice to know anyway...

Fortune cookies don't really tell fortunes most of the time, that one was mostly just a statement. A statement I can't even tell is true. Does a slip of paper know more about me than I do myself? Or am I just too trusting of said slip of paper? Does believing this make me superstitious? Why am I asking so many questions? Are my questions worthy of answers? Who's going to answer me? Can I answer my own questions?

At least I know the answer to that last one.

When fortune cookies aren't making unverifiable statements about me, they really tend to give good advice:



HOPEfully this image won't be all huge. Forgive my lack of HTML skillz.

That's all for now. Save and contemplate those little slips of paper, savor the cookies, do as Confucius say and SMILE. You'll feel better. If not after smiling, at least you got a cookie.

Happiness, Romance, and Assistant Dogs

Happy Sunday, cyberspace!

You should know that today is Assistant Dog Day, which falls on the first day of National Resurrect Romance Week, in the middle of Happiness Happens month! The holiday deciding people must've been particularly cheery in August. I like all these weird holidays, it's fun to have something to celebrate on what other people consider a normal, possibly even boring day. I just wish I'd checked brownielocks.com yesterday, so I would have known it was Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Night.

Seriously!

Wow, I managed not to use the word "actually" OR mention any disease, affliction, disorder, syndrome... you get the point... This was even relatively short 'n sweet. Hooray!

Un-tanning and my "mental disorder"

I don't title my posts until I'm done typing all of this. I might start thinking the real subject of this blog-bit is one thing and title the post after that. But then my thoughts go in a completely random direction and the title makes no sense. Just so you know that. Actually this blog will probably be even MORE blabbery and run on and all of that. If there is a single comma within this, it'll be a miracle. Oh look there's one. Yaaaayyy! *unenthusiastic Kermit the frogesque arm failing*

Before I start whining, you should know I've never really been sunburned. I mean, bad, painful blisteringy peeling and all of that sunburned. So the fact that I'm what some people would consider *barely* sunburned is multiplied for me or something. It SEEMS that much worse because I have nothing to compare it to. Alright I'm done explaining:



I'm sunburned and it hurts and it itches only I can't scratch it because arrrrggg then it would just hurt like nuts and just itch more ahhhh it ITCHES!!! I wish I had some of this goop:



Hooray for goop. (crud that's a huge picture of goop. Oh well.)

The TV is on in the background. Some dog training show on Animal Planet. I'm not the least bit interested but I NEED the noise. Just for background noise. I freak out in silence. I notice all the minor little noises like the people next door's weird mariachi music or something that sounds like footsteps or you get the point. I stop what I'm doing a lot of the time just to check on things and even if I don't I'm just like "WFT was that?" I freak out really easily.

It's actually pretty late considering I'm exhausted from swimming for like 4 hours and getting sunburned. I really don't sunburn that easily. I don't tan either. I freckle and that's all. So maybe when this "sunburn" goes away it'll turn into a tan? Is that what happens? I have to go through this burny, waterlogged, chlorine-ified state just to tan a LITTLE? I really don't get why I don't tan. I'm ITALIAN, for Pete's sake. We're supposed to be BORN tan. But nooooo. I FRECKLE. Freckles all over my face that make me look like I'm perpetually 6, (I'd rather let people figure that out AFTER they find out what I'm like. :) ) and random mole-looking freckles on my forearms that if I stare at them long enough I convince myself I have skin cancer? Maybe it's because I'm a "worrier" (I prefer "cautious". Hmph.) or probably because in 4th grade our health teacher taught us the "ABCDE"s of cancerous moles. AND showed us slideshows of said moles! Wow. EW. Thanks for that. One more thing to obsess over.

You would think that because I KNOW and ACCEPT (sort of) the fact that I have tons of abnormal stupid worries/fears/neuroseez would lead to just getting over it. Acceptance is the road to recovery or something, right? Nope.


adaa.org defines neurosis as: a long-term disorder featuring anxiety and/or exaggerated behavior dedicated to avoiding anxiety; sufferers understand that the condition is abnormal.

Heck yes I have that. Especially the understanding part. I mean, it's not MAJOR *see: PSYCHOSIS* (Oh yay I don't have anything with "psycho" in the name. Psycho means it's WORSE. And that would probably mean I need "professional help". Whoop-dee.) And I GET OVER IT for stretches, and then when I'm just bored/not constantly distracting my brain I latch on to things and proceed to freak out. Then I forget about it for a while and the "cycle" starts again. It's not life altering or blah, I've accepted it as a personality trait until just now, when I figured out it actually has a NAME. That just makes it official. Oh well.

Anyyywhoooo...

I really should just go to bed. But it's hot out. And humid. Nyah. I'm tired, but not sleepy. There's a difference. I'm tired, so I WISH I could fall asleep just so I don't have to feel like this, but not sleepy wherein I could actually just FALL ASLEEP. I say actually a lot, actually. Ok, going to try to fix this. I wonder if it's just because I'm typing while barely thinking or if I say it this much in real life conversation.

At the very least I should turn off the computer. It's been on pretty much all day so it'll probably decide to start hating me in about an hour or so. Oh well I'll have posted this by then hopefully so it won't interfere with this blog.

Yay. I have FINALLY run out of things to say. (for now, of course.) So, if you're reading this, g'night! I leave you with this because it made me laugh:



Or did it just make me laugh because either:
a.) Pineapples are funny.
b.) I'm easily amused.
c.) I'm possibly suffering sleep-deprivation.
d.) ALL OF THE ABOVE.

The correct answer is of course D. If you don't know what the answer is always guess D.

Good night. I'm not really even going to attempt to sleep I'm going to watch whatever's on TV (oh it's 10:30-ish there's an SNL rerun on. Wish they'd start showing classic SNL's at like 2:00 am again... *sigh*) and eventually fall asleep maybe and dream about who-knows-what. I don't remember my dreams often. Maybe I'll dream about blogging...

BEDA Ver. 2.0

The weather is being bipolar today.

Oh wait, it's un-PC to refer to anything being bipolar because it's offensive to those afflicted. Like in the same way I can't call myself a spazz. The term is "athletically challenged". Sounds better, but it still means SPAZZY McDJ SPAZZ. Queen of the Spazzes. Seriously, I flinch if a ping-pong ball comes at me. And that's the only "sport" I'm GOOD at. Being also "vertically challenged" pretty much kills my chance at any other sport. But hey, they show spelling bees and Scrabble tournaments on ESPN. That means they're sports. AND there's a video game for everything now. Those that mock sports, music and dancing ability... and I'm terrible at all of them. However, I'm addicted to Tetris. It's awesome. I'm good at it, and it requires minimal skill. Just the little bit of hand-eye coordination I possess.

That's right, my video game IQ ends circa 1989. Yay.

(I'm not bitter towards the sportively gifted, it's an admirable trait actually. I just prefer to watch it on TV. Where the ball is far, faaaarrr away and contained in the MAGIC BOX.)

In a continuing effort to be inoffensive, censored and PC, should I edit the word "plague" out of my last post? *think think think* Nope, not going to. If you're offended by that statement just get out of my thoughts and stop reading right now.

Anyone left? Was there anyone to begin with? Anyway, it's COLD and RAINING on AUGUST SEVENTH. What is wrong with this picture?



Hmmmmm...

Seems normal to me. But this is beside the point. RAIN in AUGUST is WRONG. Period. Okay, maybe not rain if it only rains in the morning and then it gets crazy hot and humid and the humidity makes my hair explode, but THIS type of rain is nuts. It is currently 69 degrees (Fahrenheit, of course.) and cloudy and raining. Blah.

BUT, one of the advantages of being a vampire contained in this windowless basement hunched over this computer is that I have been blissfully unaware of this. So if I stay down here I can just pretend the weather is beautiful and sunny and hot today.

I just realized I don't label my posts. I could use this opportunity to say something witty and claim this was a statement, because labels shouldn't exist outside of an 80s high school movie, *side note: RIP JOHN HUGHES!!!* or something of that nature. Or even that labels remind me of tags, and like on a pair of comfy pajamas, the tags are cut off because they itch like crazy.

Pick whichever one you like, but the truth is that I either forget about them or am being lazy by the time I finish typing.

I've been aware that my posts are virtually segue less, but this my train of thought. Utterly unrelated nonsense. *points to title of blog* See? I've warned you.

This is also the second month in which BEDA applies. The first of course being Blog Every Day in April, started by MAUREEN JOHNSON, *link to blog at the bottom* which is precisely WHY I started blogging in the first place. So really, this would simply would not exist without Maureen's SHEER GENIUS project. Thank her. You don't like this blog? Blame her. But I digress...

Since BEDA also stand for Blog Every Day in August, this is what I will strive to do. I KNOW I've missed a few days, but now I'm making it official. But don't expect this to continue to September, partially because BEDS is REAL WORD and I dislike real word acronyms. They're misleading. "I'm going to do BEDS." Out of context that sounds a bit... odd. But more partially because by that time I'll have STUFF to do. So by then I may only blog once a week or so, or when I actually have thoughts of interest (I think) to the outermost reaches of the cyber world.

Until... well, until tomorrow,

MOI.

I've caught the MEME.

Hopping around Google today I have come across a meme-- in other words, I am BORED out of own skull and decided following a variation of an Internet trend is the way to fix this.

~~~The ABC's of MY **faaabulous** life~~~

***WARNING***: You should know these things spread like the plague, read no further should you not wish to catch the dreaded MEME!

Accent-- Midwest-ish, I suppose. It's impossible to hear accents where you're the one who *has* the so-called accent. But it's where I'm from, so I must've caught it some time ago...

Booze of choice-- None... I'mma gud girl, yus I iz. (Though I did have a sip or two of a vodka pink lemonade when I was an infant, mostly because I had a fascination with straws... I was a weeeiiirdddd child...)

Chore I hate-- This is going to sound strange but DUSTING! Ick ick ick ick ICK.

Dog or Cat-- DOGS, 'course. They're so much cuter/loyal/lovable/non-cat-ish/*insert adjective of choice here* They're just BETTER, okay?

Essential Electronics-- TV, computer, microwave.

Favorite perfume/cologne-- Most gross me out but anything citrus-scented is good.

Gold or Silver-- Gold is the color of *winners!* RAWR.

Hometown-- Chicagoland suburbia.

Insomnia-- Only occasional.

Job Title-- crazy-nerdy-silly-borderline-OCD-blogger-student-professional-kangaroo-trainer-to-the-stars-over-hyphenate-user-overall-PERSON.

Kids-- None, but *only* because I don't want to end up on Dr. Phil... ;)

Living Arrangment-- The dark, wood-paneled, artificially lit basement in which this computer is placed... I'm a vampire. :K See my faaaannnggggs?

Most Admired Trait-- Honesty

Number of Sexual Partners-- *see K*

Overnight Hospital Stays-- Quite a few when I was a baby, but none I can remember...

Phobia-- More than I would like to admit.

Quote-- Favorites change weekly

Religion-- For technical, non-drawn out answer; Christian

Siblings-- 1 brother, zillions of imaginary siblings... >.>

Time I wake up-- Varies, all I can say is I am NOT pleasant in the morning... anyone who claims to be a "morning prson" is probably from the future, where sleep is obsolete anyway.

Unusual talent/skill-- Ability to move my eyes one at a time. Probably screws up my vision even more, but it's the best I can think of, and it adds to the authenticity of my Cookie Monster imitation.

Vegetable I refuse to eat-- MUSHROOMS! Blaghhh. >:P

Worst Habit-- Twirling or chewing my hair, but only if I'm like verge-of-nervous-breakdown panicked.

X-rays-- Probably more when I was younger, 2 in recent memory.

Yummy foods I make-- You make me laugh, you silly meme you. Oh, you're serious? Anything that can be microwaved, or cinnamon toast with peanut butter. (and on *special* occasions mini chocolate chips... MMMMMmmmm...)

Zodiac sign-- Gemini. (and I live up to it, trust me...)

*~*~*<3*** This is the part where I would say if you read the entire thing you are thus TAGGED and forced to do this, but since I'm feeling niiice today and I wish to stop the spread of the meme-plague, this is optional *~*~*<3***

Shinyness Blingtastic Chihuahua makeover!!

The background has been changed!!!

Even though it makes the bloggish goodness ever so slightly more difficult to read on top of the shiny pin thing, that's what scrolling is for...

Whatever. It's shiny. I like it.

Why do I feel the need to add this space between every statement I make?

Well, it makes the blog longer. Or look longer...
, anyway.

Hah. Pictures take wonderful amounts of space too. Isn't the ipod sweater adorable? Or if you are like me and do not have an ipod to sweaterify, but would like to sweaterify something, it would probably fit a chihuahua...



Oooooh it matches! :D And it is GLITTERED. Yes, this adds to the sweatery, glittery awesomeness. (Ickkk I just realized "sweatery" looks a lot like "sweaty"... do I change it? *ponders* Naw.)

Do they make chocolate flavored gum? My TWO favorite food groups combined into ONE would probably save quite a bit of time... *to Google*

I'm BAAAAAACCCCKKKKK!!!

THEY DO THEY DO THEY DO!!! *squeal* HOORAY!!!

Now the questioon arises what I must do to aquire some... *research*

Amazon isn't just for books anymore, apparently...

Whaddaya mean "Currently unavailable"?!?!?!!!??? Non-book Amazon hath betrayed me. :(



*It DOES exist. I'm not crazy Well, it's at least out there...*

*goes off to drool about chocolate gum*

Good-bye, fair blogosphere. Until we meet again.

Look-alikes and Metaphors

Yes, I'm blogging twice in one day. I have all this crazy blogging-adrenaline so I MUST blog more today. Don't worry, eventually this wil wear off and you'll only have to deal with me a few days a week instead of a few times a day. I can't control myself. It's like my brain is fondue and I am spewing HOT MELTED CHEESE all over this keyboard. (Odd metaphor, but I'm hungry...)

Plus, my last post wasn't even "official", was it? Nothing of substance. So on with the substance...

Expect this blog to change appearance often, until I get it *just* right. I might add a background or something, because right now it just looks kind of... bleh.

Good thing it isn't humid today (like it was yesterday... Jeez! Well, it's August. Meh.) or else I would be sporting the ever-so-desirable "poodle-ish" look. Well actually there's many names for my head when the weather gets crazy. Including: (but not limited to)

Poodle (so creative)
Dora (the Explorer, I guess because her hair is essentially a triangle)
Gilda/Roseanne Rosannadanna (though the latter is used to imply it is EVEN WORSE...)

The first two were invented by my friends in an attempt to be funny. I put up with them, because it's a joke. The third has a bit of backstory:

My grandmother started calling me this when I was younger and at the time I was like "WUT?" So a little research on Wikipedia later I figured out that although this was a jab at how my hair gets Insane with a capital I, it ALSO linked me to someone completely awesome. So began my little obsession, one may call it.

Long story short: Much reading, "researching", and clip-watching later, I am PROUD to say I have anything in common with Gilda Radner. I haven't told many other people that, but heck, who's reading this?

Mainly because it's kind of embarrassing to admit you have a bit of an obession with someone who died before you were born. (6 years after her funeral exactly. Which is to say May 24th, 1995 for you non-triviaholics, and/or those without basic math skills. And yes, I just also admitted I'm 14. So?) But only mildly embarrassing. It actually impresses a select few people.

*If I had the computer skizzles/time to find a decent-looking picture of myself and upload it here next to a photo of Gilda, this is where it would go. But I don't. You'll have to trust me and visualize this in your head.*

ALSO! As I have been inspired by the wonderfully funny SparkleFarkle; (fellow... Gildaphile? No that sounded wrong... but you know what I mean. Although her case is more justified because she was actually ALIVE when Gilda was.) (also also: Link at the bottom. Follow!) I have decided to add a similar anonymous friendship-ish-related quote:

"Friendship is like peeing your pants; Everyone can see it, but only you can feel the warmth it brings."

I'll leave you with that lil' nugget of wisdom. :)

A Bit of an Introduction...

Or: What I Have Done.

Ok, I don't really expect people to read this, but I just feel like I have a LOT to say. Maybe this will eventually gain momentum. All great projects have to start somewhere, right?

What's really going to bum me out for the first week or so (or month or so) is that nobody will be commenting on my blog. I like comments and feedback, especially when it's positive. It's nice to have some record of people reading this. You could be reading this right now, and I might not ever know it. Even if you don't have a notEworthy, (dang typos. yay for spellcheck, which today I have foolishly not used, for whatever reason) or even positive comment, I'd like to know you read this. So if I may ask something of you, leave a comment if you read this. Even just "hi" or something. Please?

Ok, enough of my begging.

How did this blog begin? (or how IS it beginning, seeing as I am still typing this)
Answer: On a whim, like most good things.

But WHY, you may ask yourself, make yourself balance TWO entire blogs? Are you not satisfied by your OTHER great group blog, Raving Persuasions? *link at the bottom. go there*
Answer: Like I said, I have a LOT of things to say, most of which has nothing to do with Alex and Vita's parts of that blog. (Although I WILL keep blogging there, that's for sure.) And I think it would be a bit rude to just go off on a completely different tangent with my rambling within an otherwise well-structured blog. So this is the space in which I can just ramble. But hopefully SOMEONE will find this intresting. Are YOU that someone???

Even if no one does, I vow to stick with this. That's a good thing about having an uninteresting blog. It forces you to keep going even without the constant praise from others. (but, as I also said earlier, it's nice. =) )

But enough about that!

Usually I'll blog here either Wednesdays or Sundays, maybe Thursday. Or Monday, or a quick rant Saturday. You just never know. (Or even, if I'm feeling very talkish, TWO posts in ONE day! Wow! It's like a little bonus just for reading this far. Now you know that. I suppose I could just edit-in the other things I want to say, but I'll probably forget about that handy lil' feature and make another post.)

Thanks! *this being my first blog here, I feel the need to thank you. Probably unesscessary, but who doesn't like to be thanked? It's polite.*