Friday, April 29, 2011

I Think That My Arm Might Fall Off in the Next Few Days

I gave blood the other day.

No big deal, or anything, but my blood could save someone's life.  This is a very good thing.  I like helping people, and giving blood is a good way to do that.

But there's a problem.

After I gave blood, the Red Cross people gave me a sheet of paper that had a list of symptoms and things that a person might develop after giving blood.  It said that if I developed any of the symptoms that I should call some sort of hotline or go to the hospital or something.

That was the beginning of the problem.

You see, if you tell me about a bunch of things that might go wrong with me, chances are, I'm going to think that they are going wrong.  That's just how I work.  However, this probably wouldn't have been a huge problem on its own.  Oh, no.

The real problem started when I forgot the piece of paper at the blood drive.

At that point, I had just been informed that something might go horribly wrong with me some time in the immediate future, but I didn't know exactly what might go wrong with me.  Anything out of the ordinary could be the omen of my death.  Heck, half of the ordinary things that could happen may be the grim reaper coming a-knockin'.  I was on edge.  I was a hair's-breadth away from complete and total hypochondriac meltdown.

Enter mysterious bruise.

This was my first time giving blood, so I didn't know what to expect. 

I definitely wasn't expecting a giant freaky bruise thing.

Okay, it's not giant, but it is really freaky looking.  I would have taken a picture to show you, but the picture did not adequately convey the terrifying horror of my bruise (and yes, I'm aware that that last sentence was slightly redundant.)

So anyway, I had this really freaky, nasty bruise on my arm that was making it look like the needle that was jabbed into my arm to get to my blood tore my vein and caused me to have internal bleeding.

At that point, I was pretty much convinced that I was going to either die or need to have my arm amputated.

My friends all told me that the freaky bruise was normal, but I knew, and I still know.

There is nothing natural about that monstrous contusion.

I am going to die.

Or my arm might fall off.

Either way, I'm screwed.

On the plus side, though, my puncture wound can tell when it's going to rain.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Dear Professor, I Love You (Updated With a Note to Help Lessen Some Confusion I May Have Caused in my Carelessness.)

I had to give a speech today for my online Japanese class, so I actually had to go to the college campus.  This was not good because I had to get up early in the morning, but it was good because it meant that I finally got to meet my professor and some of the people in my class.

I was the only girl there, apart from my professor, and all of the guys there seemed wonderfully nerdy or odd in some way (the wonderfully carries over to the odd, of course.  They were wonderfully odd.  You know what, let's not say odd, because that has some negative connotations, let's say that they were wonderfully eccentric, or that they boldly marched to the beat of their own drummers.)

Also, my professor is adorable.

She's this little Japanese lady.  She's not old, but she looks like she is older than my mom, and I just love her a lot. 

Then, in addition to being adorable, she gave us all snacks, and not just any snacks, Japanese snacks.

Those are all of the snacks that she gave me, sitting on my desk.  As you can see, this portion of my desk is where I keep my makeup- and hair-related items.

These appear to be some sort of rice cake with a type of icing or something on them.  I have no idea what that says on the wrapper.

This is a peach-flavored gummy snack.  The label says "ピーチガミ" which translates as "Peach Gummy."  If you could read katakana, though, you would know that because the symbols transliterate as "piichi gami"  where the "a" is a long "a" like in "Carl."  It also has a little cartoon peach on the wrapper, which sort of looks like a butt with leaf feet, but I digress.

This one is a mango-flavored gummy, and you can't really see the wrapper very well because the flash on my camera is stupid. 
Anyway, it's basically the same as the other wrapper, only this one is yellow and it says "マンゴーガミ" which, again, translates as "Mango Gummy" which you would know if you could read katakana because the symbols transliterate as "mangoo gami" with the "a" being pronounced like the "a" in "Carl" sort of, but not totally, yadda, yadda, yadda, we've been through this already.

Yeah, so I just wanted to share that with you, because it's kind of awesome.

That is all.


Okay, I just kind of realized that I might be confusing some people here. 

Okay.  When I say "my professor" like that, without any capitaliztion or anything, I am referring to the very nice lady who teaches me Japanese.  When I say "the Professor" with a capital "P" and "the" in front of it, I am referring to my wonderful friend, the Professor, who makes me laugh. 

Okay?  And I know that in the title of this post, "Professor" is capitalized even though it is referring to the very nice lady who teaches me Japanese, and that might be a little confusing. 

Alright, from now on, my Japanese professor will be known as "Sensei" and the Professor will still be known as "the Professor" in order to minimize confusion from this point forth.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Dear Rob Paravonian: I Love You. Please Marry Me.

I'm just kidding.  I wouldn't marry Rob Paravonian, I'm just a high schooler!  That would be preposterous.  No, that would never happen...unless he asked me.


Anyway, Rob Paravonian is an awesome comedian/musician, and I feel like sharing some of the wonderful things that he has done that have made me laugh.

The first:  The Pachelbel Rant.  Finally, the cries of the low voices are heard!  Darn you, Pachelbel!

The second:  Pushing Band Candy.  Yes.  Just yes.

And finally, Something You Already Know, which was put up on the internet by someone who illegally recorded one of his shows.  I love this video mostly for his totally awesome falsetto at the end.

There are more wonderful things that he does, but you can go look them up for yourself.  Yeah, I said it.  Go do it yourself, lazy.  I'm just kidding, I love you...unless I don't.

GASP!  Which one does she mean?  Does she love me or not?

Don't worry, I love you.

To the Person Who Didn't Flush

(Just to warn you all, if you find the bathroom to be a very private place that you don't like to talk or hear about, then maybe you shouldn't read this.  You have been warned.)

You, madam, have ruined my morning.

I was just minding my own business, on my way to the bathroom for my morning bathroom break, completely content with the world.  Nothing could bring me down from the cloud that I was on.

Then I walked into the bathroom, only to be greeted by a toiled full of unflushed refuse.


But that's not what ruined my morning.  Oh, no, not at all.  The sight of your waste was not what brought me down, not in the slightest.

You see, I am a creature of habit, and I like to do things the same way that I have always done them, but you messed things up, you....person,  you.  But, you may be asking, why am I talking about habits when I was just previously talking about bathroom breaks, and why am I writing an angry blog post to you, when just in the last paragraph I was talking about how the sight of your waste products did not upset me?  Well, I'll tell you why.


You took my favorite stall, soiled it, and then did not flush.  I always use that stall.  Without fail.  Always.  However, you, thinking only of yourself, decided not to flush, which forced me to relocate to the stall next to it, which isn't nearly as nice.

I mean, I understand why you might not be able to flush that toilet on the first try.  I had some difficulties with it myself.  I know that the flusher handle (is it called a plunger?  I don't know.) is weird, and it doesn't work if you push down on it, but it will flush if you pull up on it, which leads me to believe that you may not have even tried to flush, and that is just disgusting.

At the very least, I hope that you are satisfied with the chaos you introduced into my life by not flushing the toilet.  I hope that you are satisfied that I may never use that bathroom again out of fear of a repeat occurrence. 

I also hope that you get toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

That is all.

The person whose morning you, so carelessly, ruined,

I Think I May Have Joined a Cult. I'm Not Sure, Though.

Yes.  As has already been said, I may or may not have joined a cult/sold my soul to an evil entity this week. 

Either that, or they were actually telling the truth and I really was joining the National Honor Society.

I'm pretty sure that they were lying, though, because that was the most cult-like thing I have ever done.  I'm not sure if I'm allowed to reveal the specifics of their secret ritual of darkness, but let's just say that the only things that were missing were robed figures and creepy chanting.

Anyway, if I suddenly sprout horns or start carrying a pitchfork around and laughing maniacally, you should maybe pull me aside and ask if everything is hunky-dory in Fanny Land, because I may or may not be possessed by the evil spirit of the National Honor Society.  Or you can hit me in the head with a shovel in an attempt to dislodge the beast, but I don't recommend that route, because sometimes I laugh maniacally for no reason, and I would not appreciate being whacked on the head without just cause.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

What Aren't They Teaching You?

Conversation I had with my sister about where some of the things I say come from:

Me:  (Pointing to my brain)  It comes from somewhere in here, somewhere that doesn't require thinking, and then it just comes out of my mouth, like "blargh."
Sister A:  I want to say "cornea," but that's in your ear.
Me:  *Pause*  That's in your eye...


Some great quotes from today.

In band:

The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  I was camping with Lord Proboscis, and we were talking, and I was like "You know what I want to do?  I want to go over to that little girl right there and say:  'Do you know that oil spill?'  and she'd be like 'Yes.' and then I'd be like 'Well, it killed Ariel and all her little friends!'"
Me:  No, it wouldn't have killed Ariel because she traded in her fins for feet so she could marry Prince Eric.  DUH.  It would have killed her daughter, Melody.
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  And King Triton!  He's like the Dumbledore of the sea!
Me:  On the bright side, it would have killed Ursula.
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  And Brunhilda her sister, or whatever her name is, Wenchela.
*Insert ridiculous amounts of laughter*
(Then the whole band talked about how we really think that we sound really good on one piece, then we started the piece, and the first note sounded really bad)
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  That's the sound Ariel made when she died.
*Even more ridiculous laughter*


The next quote requires a bit of back story.

You see, about a month ago, I went to Rival (Rival being the small town that is home to Rival High School, my school's sports rival) to go to an ice cream shop/teenage hangout place to hear one of my friends (she's already graduated from college, but we'll call her my friend because Facebook says that that's what she is, and Facebook wouldn't lie to me) play music.  We will call her Lady Acoustic.  So, I go to see Lady Acoustic play some of her music at this place and, what would you know, there's some strange guy there who is also playing music.  We will call him King Harmonica (actually, he played the harmonica and the guitar and the piano, so he's really just ridiculous at music)

Anyway, so Lady Acoustic starts playing her music, then King Harmonica starts playing his music, and then they started playing together, because they had apparently know each other for a while, and then a bunch of my friends and I got to thinking "My, they would be a wonderful couple."

And, just like that, the dream was born.

We were bound and determined to get those two together, because it just seemed right.  So, we went home that night, scheming up ways to get them married (because they had to get married and have beautiful musical children.  It was meant to be.)

Well, anyway, we all got back together (we being me, the Stellar Miss Moon, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band) and we were talking, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band told us that his mom had told him the King Harmonica was married.

The dream was shattered.

We were flabbergasted.  We didn't know what to feel.  It seemed like all that was right with the world had vanished with the Couple that Would Never Be.

It was devastating, to say the least.

Well, anyway, that was a month or two ago.  Today, in band, after we had that lovely discussion about Ariel and the oil spill, the King/Archbishop of Marching Band came up to me and, very excited, exclaimed:

"King Harmonica's not married!"

And I, being the eloquent speaker that I am, said,


Then he reminded me of Lady Acoustic and King Harmonica and the dream, and I became ridiculously excited.  Then we discussed how they were meant to be together because they already sang duets, and that's how true love works, dang it!  It seriously made my day.

But the Stellar Miss Moon had not yet been informed of this wondrous news.

We decided to tell her together.

So, we waited by our lockers for her to get out of her class, and, when she did, we told her.  Just like this:

The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  King
Me:  Harmonica
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  is
Me:  not
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  married!

Then she, being the eloquent speaker that she is, said "what?" and then we reminded her of the situation, and then she became just as excited as we were.


And then we had jazz band.

On the way to jazz band, we saw the Drummer Boy, and we thought that he might be following us, so we made some evasive maneuvers and ended up on Main Street, which should have been fine, because the traffic moves faster there because the speed limit is higher and there are fewer stop signs, yadda, yadda, yadda.


There was a problem.

We were coming up on the one stoplight in town, and it was red.

We yelled all sorts of things at it like "!" and "green!" while we gestured dramatically in its direction.

But nothing worked.

We were running out of options, and the Drummer Boy was closing in on us.

Finally, in one last, desperate attempt, I yelled


And the light turned green, but I didn't see it because I was looking at the King/Archbishop of Marching Band, who was laughing really really hard.

That's about all of that story.  Ten awesome points if you can name the popular American cartoon that "shihakazee" is from.  I'll give you a hint:  the title character lives in an aquatic tropical fruit.  (The fruit itself is not aquatic, but it's location is)

Still can't get it?  I'll give you one more hint:  the opening theme is sung by Painty the Pirate.

I think that that's enough hints.


Some fun facts about this post.  Google does not recognize "Dumbledore,"  "shihakazee," "yadda," "Wenchela," or "Painty" as words.  However, it does recognize "flabbergasted."  These are strange times we live in, strange times indeed.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Everything About This Video is Completely Unfair

Okay, I wrote this post last night, and then I deleted it, and then the Wonderful Miss Funshine sent me a slightly miffed email, telling me that she was disappointed in me, so now I'm re-posting it.  Enjoy.



I'm about to start being a complete and total girl, so if you're a guy and you don't want to read my whiny ramblings, then you just go ahead and skip this post.  You can go and watch Mickey Mouse, instead.  You see that?  It's in the post right below this one.  See it?  Yeah, Mickey Mouse!  Go have fun.

Anyway, as was previously stated, everything about this video I'm about to share with you is completely unfair, and I will tell you why after you watch it.

Did you watch it?

Okay, here's why everything about this video is unfair:

1.  He plays piano
2.  He's British
3.  He sings
4.  He sings well
5.  He sings in French.  FRENCH.
6.  His eyes are gorgeous
7.  His hair is adorable
8.  He's just sort of cute all-around
9.  He is not mine.

See?  Totally unfair.  Ah, well.

I'm done being a giant girl now.  Boys, you can come back now.  How was Mickey Mouse?  Did you like it?  Well, that's wonderful.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Cartoons Used to be So Much Better, and by "Better," I mean "More Violent"

This is Steamboat Willie, the first Mickey Mouse cartoon ever released.  It is very near and dear to my heart because I used to watch it all the time when I was little.  Now, I pass it on to you.  Use it well.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Why, Hello, All

Hello, indeed.

I have nothing much to do, because I finished all of my homework, but I'm still listening to J-Pop radio as a sort of research for a speech I have to give this month.  It was going to be about traditional Japanese music and then modern Japanese music, and how the traditional music influenced the modern music, but right now, I'm feeling like that's not going to work.  I might have to change my approach to this because, it seems to me that modern Japanese music, or at least J-Pop, has been more heavily influenced by Western culture than by it's own musical traditions.

Sigh.  More issues.

But don't think that I'm complaining, because I'm not.  I'm very happy with my topic of choice.  私は 日本のおんがくが だいすきです。  (For those of you who don't read Japanese, or for those of you whose computers show only blank boxes where those characters are, which might be a lot of you, that says "I love Japanese music."  If you do speak Japanese, and I somehow got that wrong, well then you just let me know, because I'd hate to be learning the language wrong.  However, as far as I know, that sentence is grammatically correct.) 

Boy, I'm getting rambly.  I'll leave now, but I might be back.  I have a lot of "researching" to do.

This is What I Do in My Spare Time

Today, I had jazz band practice, so I went to my jazz band practice, where we did jazzy things.

That is not the fun part.

The fun part came when we were leaving jazz band, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band was giving me a ride home because I don't have a car.   The Drummer Boy had left just before us.

So, we were leaving, and the King/Archbishop of Marching Band was driving when, all of a sudden, this happens.

The King/Archbishop of Marching Band: Wait a minute.  The Drummer Boy doesn't live that way.  I wonder where he's going.


The King/Archbishop of Marching Band: I kind of want to follow him now.
Me:  Go for it, I have nothing better to do.

And so we began to follow the Drummer Boy.  

We went all the way across town, and then we lost him when he appeared to be heading back to the High School (jazz band practice is held in the elementary school.  Don't ask why, it just is.)  So we were looking around for him, when all of a sudden, he turned off of the one main road in our little town and started driving toward us.

Me:  Crap!  He sees us!
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  Our cover is blown!  We'll have to shake him!

We pull up to the nearest intersection.

The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  Which way do we go?
Me:  Right!
The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  Okay!

So we turned right at that intersection, then the Drummer Boy came to the intersection, but he went straight ahead, so we turned left so we could drive parallel to him.

The King/Archbishop of Marching Band:  He's probably going to his grandma's (The Drummer Boy turns a corner)  Wait, his grandma doesn't live that way?  Where is he going?

So we continued to watch him, and, it turns out, he was going to get gas.  We both still wanted to see where he was going after he got gas, but the King/Archbishop of Marching Band wanted to get home so his mom wouldn't wonder where he was.

That was seriously the most fun I've had all week.

Now, granted, it's only the beginning of the week, but, up to this point, it hasn't exactly been all roses puppy dogs.  

Random Fact of the Day:  I want some mashed potatoes.

I don't know why I told you that.

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Rest of the Story

So, a couple of days ago, I threw a wild party, made tacos, and started a fire. 

That sounds cooler than it actually was.

Well, anyway, I left you wonderful people without all of the information.  Granted, you probably won't find this entertaining, but I promised the rest of the story, and when I commit to something, dang it, it's getting done!

So, we left off after we got the fire going again.  Well, after this happened, the Fearsome Miss Ginger and the Wonderful Miss Funshine showed up.  There was much hugging and joyous welcoming to be had.  I don't remember what we did right away when they got there (to be honest, I don't remember most of the party because I was sleep-deprived, and I'm even more sleep-deprived as a write this.  Also, I'm listening to music right now, so if there are random words in here that don't make any sense, they might be song lyrics.  My brain is having trouble working today.)  Anyway, I may not remember exactly what we did right away, but I know that it probably involved cheese balls.  After the part that I can't remember, we went to go watch Beauty and the Beast, but Sassafras Jones had to leave because it was eleven and she wasn't spending the night because she's, like, responsible, or something (she had homework or some other type of important thing that just had to be done, so she didn't spend the night.  I highly doubt that any of this is making any kind of sense.)

So, after Sassafras Jones left, I made homemade popcorn (in the tradition of my father, as the Wonderful Miss Funshine put it) and then we watched Beauty and the Beast and swooned over the Beast and his library.

Seriously.  It's a boss library.

I'm pretty sure that some people fell asleep while watching Beauty and the Beast, but after it was over, I still wanted to watch Tarzan, so we did, and then everyone (except for me) fell asleep.  I didn't fall asleep because I was too busy swooning over Tarzan.

Again, this probably isn't making any sense at all.

So, everyone was asleep, so I got up to turn of the TV and all the lights and all that jazz and then the Stellar Miss Moon put her big ol' sleeping noggin on my sleeping spot, so I had to sleep on the floor, because I wasn't about to just shove her head out of the way.  I'll torture her with Cheetah Girls songs, but I'm not about to disturb her slumber.  I'm annoying, not stupid.

Here's where we get to what I really don't remember, probably because there wasn't much that happened, except for that the Fearsome Miss Ginger took one of our large, decorative Easter eggs and pretended to be pregnant with it.

Then everyone left, and I was alone in the house again. 

Goodness, this whole thing was probably very boring, and I congratulate you for reading any part of it at all.  Seriously, kudos.

Friday, April 8, 2011

My House, My Flame Stick

So, last night, I threw a wild party because my family went off to a hotel for the night because it's spring break and that's what we do, but I didn't go because I had Japanese homework.

Anyway, I stayed home, and so I was allowed to have friends over so I wouldn't become lonely.

Enter wild party.  Or, at least, the wildest party this nerd is ever going to throw.  Okay, maybe not even that. 

But it was a party, of sorts.

It all began yesterday in the afternoon.  My family had just left for the hotel, and I was alone with my own insanity.  What, you may ask, does a somewhat odd teenage girl who plans to have company over do while she waits for her guests to arrive?

That's simple:  she breaks out the board games and coloring books.  A duh.

Well, after I had emptied my bookshelf of all of its coloring books and searched the house for any and all board games that still had all of the necessary pieces, I found myself with very little with which I could occupy my time.

So, I took the next logical step in the planning of my super-awesome party.

I decided what to make for dinner.

You see, I was expecting the Stellar Miss Moon and Sassafras Jones at or before dinner time, so, obviously, I was obliged to provide the necessary foodstuffs.

But what to make?

I could use hamburger, I decided.  Anything that requires the extra step of browning hamburger immediately becomes fancier, because it requires more effort.  My sister can make spaghetti by boiling water and putting noodles in it, then adding sauce from a can when the noodles are done.  That would make a decent lunch, but I can brown some hamburger, then cook some noodles, and then cook the sauce separately, and it immediately becomes dinner-worthy (at least, in my house it does.)  I could make that spaghetti, but then I could kick it up a notch (can you tell I watched Emril a lot as a child?) by putting the spaghetti in a ceramic dish and covering it with mozzarella cheese and then baking it for a little bit.  Then it not only becomes dinner-worth, it's downright fancy.

What was I saying again?

Oh, yeah.  I was talking about dinner.  So, it was decided that I would use hamburger.  I thought of making the spaghetti, then of making spaghetti casserole (the spaghetti in the oven as was previously described.)  I decided against both of those options, the spaghetti because it wasn't fancy enough, and the spaghetti casserole because I didn't want to clean the casserole dish.

That left me without a whole lot of ideas.  I mean, I know that you can make a lot of different things with hamburger, I just lack creativity when it comes to cooking.  I had ousted spaghetti as a contender, so that left me with...what?  Goulash?  No, I didn't want to make goulash, and I wasn't even sure that we had tomato juice, so goulash was out.  What then?  Not spaghetti, not goulash, what could I make? 

Then it came to me.


It was perfect.  I would make tacos.  Only we didn't have any sour cream or salsa, but that didn't really matter because we still had the--nope, we didn't have lettuce either.  Hmm.  Perhaps tacos wouldn't work out after all.

No.  I would make the tacos work, dang it.

So, I raided the pantry, looking for something that would make my tacos awesome.  I found a package of Mexican rice.

I had my something.

At that point, it was around four, and the Stellar Miss Moon and Sassafras Jones weren't over yet, but it was too early to start making the tacos.  I defrosted the hamburger and began to wait.

At some point, I decided it would be a good idea to have a Veggie Tales dance party, so I did.  Then four thirty rolled around and I decided that I could reasonably start the tacos at that time.

So, I cooked the tacos and the rice and I grated some cheese, and the Sassafras Jones showed up around five, and we began eating the tacos, with the Stellar Miss Moon arriving shortly after this.

This is where my ramblings stop and the actual party begins.

So, we ate our tacos, and then we had some kettle corn while we read blog posts from Hyperbole and a Half.  After we did this, we decided to move to the living room to color and play strange card games.

While we were doing these things, I had to keep the fire going in my fireplace, because my family heats the house with the sweet-looking fireplace we have in our living room.  We managed to get the living room up to around 83 degrees (Fahrenheit, around 28 degrees Celsius for those of you who want to know) before we decided to stop putting wood on the fire because it was getting almost uncomfortably warm.  Why did I put this paragraph here?  Patience, my friend, all will be revealed in due time.

Anyway, we let the fire die down and continued to play card games and color in the coloring books, all while stuffing our faces full of cheese puffs and cheese balls and kettle corn and raisins (because I love raisins.)  After a while, we got a little cold, so we decided to build the fire up again.

Problem.  We had let the fire go for too long.  The coals did not appear to be hot enough to start more wood on fire of their own accord. 

It appeared that we would have to build another fire.  From scratch.

And so we did, but not without some difficulty first.  I went to go get the paper, and the Stellar Miss Moon threw firewood into the fireplace, which was stupid, but I forgave her because she didn't know any better. 

Anyway.  I came back into the living room with the paper and made the Stellar Miss Moon take the firewood out of the fireplace.  We began to build our fire.

Our first attempts were disastrous.  The paper burned up before we could get any firewood in the fireplace, so I had to go get more paper, then Sassafras Jones burned up the Sunday crossword, which almost drove me to tears or hysteria (I love the Sunday crossword puzzle.  It is one of the best things ever.)  After our many failed attempts, we managed to get the foundations laid for our fire.  All we had to do was light the paper.  This is where the flame stick comes into play.  You see, in my house, we use a cigarette lighter and a very thin piece of wood to light things on fire, because we don't have one of those fancy lighters with the really long neck thing.  So, I used the flame stick to try to light the paper on fire, but the flame stick went out before it ignited the paper.  So, I re-lit the flame stick, then tried again.  And failed again.

The Stellar Miss Moon:  Maybe if you gave me the flame stick...
Me:  No.  My house, my flame stick.

Eventually, we got the paper to ignite, but the wood wasn't on fire yet.  Sassafras Jones was all for putting more paper in the fireplace, but I'm pretty sure she's a budding pyromaniac, so I didn't listen to her.  Eventually, we got the fire to start again, and we went on with our party things.

This was all very boring and it took a long time for me to tell you about it.  More interesting things happened after this, including the arrival of the Fearsome Miss Ginger and the Wonderful Miss Funshine, but I think I will put those in a different post, seeing as this one is already longer than most.

Well, thank you for reading to the end of this.  More to come.  Probably tomorrow, but no guarantees.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Brother: Queen of Drama

My brother is a giant drama queen.  This is basically his theme song.

You just have to replace "that girl" with "that boy" and put he wherever there's a "she" and it's pretty spot-on.

He's only eight, or something like that (I have too many siblings to be able to remember all their ages.  Okay, I only have three siblings, but that's beside the point.) so he's not really a teenage drama queen, but I doubt that he'll grow out of it before he hits his teen years.  Why, just today, we got this lovely gem when Sassafras Jones's sister came over to play with Sister B (a.k.a.-Soulless One.)  And I quote:


This wonderful quote is in addition to regulars such as "Do you want me to die?" and "Everyone hates me."

He has more angst than I do, and I'm a teenage poet/musician.  There is something wrong with this picture.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

A Depressing Childhood Memory

It may surprise you all to learn that I was not always the top of the popularity totem pole like I am today. (That was sarcasm, in case you didn't already deduce as much.)  No, back in the days of Kindergarten, I was actually more of a social outcast than I am right now. 

You see, when I was very young, I didn't get out very much.  I mostly stayed at home with my imaginary friends or some of my cousins.  I didn't have fancy play dates with neighborhood children who were around my age.  No, it was mostly me, my imaginary friends, and my dog (actually, we had two dogs, but I severely disliked one of them, so we won't count that one.)

So, when it came time to begin kindergarten, I was completely friendless, with my social skills being, shall we say, somewhat sub-par.  As you can imagine, my social situation did not improve much upon being thrust into a room full of strangers and told to "make friends."

Well, in spite of everyone's best efforts, I did not magically transform into the kindergarten social queen.  I did, however, manage to become that shy kid that plays next to the large group of children instead of having to ask to play with them, because A: kids are freaking scary, and B: I didn't want to feel like a complete and total loser.

So, I would play next to kids and try to institute myself in the goings-on of other children, only to be completely ignored.  This continued for quite some time.  In fact, I have a distinct memory from my childhood that perfectly demonstrates this, so I am going to share it with you now.

It all began on the playground.  It was recess, and recess was always the worst because it was the one time of day when no one was forced to interact with me, so I was left alone on the playground.  It was rather cold and a little wet outside, because it had rained in the past few days.  Now, I had been fortunate enough that day to acquire a kickball, which I used as a chair, of sorts.

So, there I was, alone on the playground, sitting on a kickball to keep from getting my pants wet, when, all of a sudden, one of my classmates walks up to me.

Oh boy, I thought, someone is going to ask me to play with them!  Now I won't have to be alone!  Oh, this is going to be great!

"Hey," the kid said.

I looked up expectantly.

"Can we have that kickball?"

I was heartbroken, but I tried not to show it.  "Sure," I said, and gave him the kickball.

I spent the rest of recess sitting on the wet pavement.

Kindergarten sucks, and I don't even know why I wrote all of this.  I promise a less depressing post tomorrow or some time soon.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Stellar Miss Moon Hates the Cheetah Girls

So, the other day, I was in the library at school with all my friends, and we were just chatting and having a good time.

Well, everyone else was just chatting, I was singing Cheetah Girls songs.

You see, the Cheetah Girls have to be one of the most annoying musical groups (can we even call them that?  I don't know if we can.  Let's just call them an "ensemble") ever, and I used to be obsessed with them.  I even had the first four Cheetah Girls books.  Yeah, you probably didn't know that the crappy Disney Channel movie was based on a series of books, but I did, and I had read some of them.  So, anyway, I know all of these crappy Cheetah Girls songs, and sometimes, they come up from the depths of the murky past and get wedged in my brain, at which point, I am forced to sing them in an attempt to either dislodge them, or bring everyone around me down to my level of suffering.

It all started in pre-calc.  Now, the Stellar Miss Moon sits next to me in pre-calc, and she does not appreciate the Cheetah Girls.  I mean, she really  doesn't appreciate the Cheetah Girls.  One might even go so far as to say that she dislikes or even loathes the Cheetah Girls.  So, as you can imagine, she got very annoyed with me, but I don't know why she was getting so huffy, because it's not like I wasn't apologizing for singing them, and I was totally suffering just as much as she was in that situation.  Probably more because I had the Cheetah Girls inside and outside my head.

Anyway, I eventually stopped singing the songs, and the Stellar Miss Moon eventually stopped threatening me with bodily harm.  Soon, the bell rang, signalling the end of pre-calc, and we went our separate ways, she to chemistry, and I to the library for my online class.

During my online class, I managed to, for the most part, forget about the Cheetah Girls.  However, when my online class was over, and everyone was in the library with me, something, I don't know what, made me think of them again, so I started singing "The Party's Just Begun" or something like that.  This made the Stellar Miss Moon very annoyed, so, naturally, I sang it louder and closer to her face (because I'm a great friend like that.)  This caused the Stellar Miss Moon to pull out a pencil and stab me in the hand.  SHE DREW BLOOD.  I was shocked and slightly concerned about infections at this point, so I voiced my shock and surprise at her conduct.

Me:  You stabbed me in the hand!
The Stellar Miss Moon:  Yes.
Me:  You drew blood!
The Stellar Miss Moon:  I'm not going to apologize.  You were singing the Cheetah Girls!
Me:  You know what, I forgive you anyway.  You know why?  Because we're...Amigas Cheetas, friends for life!  The rhythm and each other, that's what keeps us tight!
The Stellar Miss Moon:  STOP!
Me: *Continues singing*

And that, children, is why you should never expose the Stellar Miss Moon to the Cheetah Girls, because she will stab you with a pencil and possibly also try to wrestle you to the ground with some sort of headlock, which is hard to get out of unless you fight dirty and/or go limp, causing her to drop you in surprise.

Brother: Human Boy or Large Domesticated Animal?

So, I'm on the computer in the basement right now, because it has better Internet than the computer upstairs.  When I got down to the basement, I saw that the computer was shut down, which is odd, because this is the computer that my little brother uses to fuel his online gaming addiction.  Then I remembered part of a conversation that Brother had had with my dad, in which Brother explained that he shut the computer down because the screen went black.  Be didn't know what caused it, he just knew that the screen went black, so he shut the computer down.

So, anyway, I turn the computer back on, but the screen in still black.  The monitor is on, but there are no colorful images, just the silent, endless abyss of darkness (which is much like the silent, endless abyss that is created in my soul when when I discover that someone has eaten all of the cheese balls.  My number one suspect?  Brother, but that's another story.)  So I'm like "What the French, toast?" and then I get to thinking, maybe, just maybe, Brother had managed to unplug the monitor, which is not entirely unlikely, because he has some anger issues, and if he shook it hard enough, it would probably come unplugged.

So, I went around to the back of the computer and what would you know?  One of the cables was loose.  So, I fixed it, and that fixed the problem.  However, while I was waiting for the computer to turn on, some strange marks on the top of the monitor and CPU caught my attention.

They were strange gouge marks.  I can only assume that Brother made them, because he is the only one in our family with enough anger to take it out on one of the nice things we have (he used to bite the PlayStation controllers whenever he would lose a game.  He got into a lot of trouble for that because A: That's disgusting, and B: PlayStation controllers cost money, and he was ruining the only two we had.)

So, I was looking at the strange marks and thinking about how Brother likes to bite things when he gets angry, and I got to thinking, could he possible have made those marks by biting the computer?  He certainly got angry enough to get bite-y (Seriously, you can hear him screaming at this computer when you're upstairs and on the other side of the house.  He has the family lungs.)  So, I looked at the top of the computer, and, sure enough, there were gouge marks on the top that corresponded to the gouge marks on the side, so that led me to believe that Brother might actually be biting the computer.

Which leads me to the question:  Is Brother a human being, or a large domesticated rodent?  So far, I have yet to answer this question, but I'm working on it.

Ooh, it also leads me to one more question:  How does he still have teeth?  I mean, seriously, the boy bites everything in sight.  I'm surprised his teeth aren't worn down to nubs by now.

Monday, April 4, 2011

I Know Strange People (Alternate Title: Sometimes, Having a Cell Phone Feels Like a Curse)

So, I was sitting in my room the other night, reading some Edgar Allan Poe, as per usual, when my phone goes off.

It was a text. 

Now, I was hoping that it was a loopy Vicodin-influenced text from the Stellar Miss Moon, since she had just gotten her wisdom teeth removed that very same day, or a text from the Fearsome Miss Ginger, who promised to show me any drug-influenced texts that the Stellar Miss Moon sent her.  But it was neither of those things.  Instead, when I opened my phone (because I have a flip phone because I'm a cave person) I saw that the text was from a number that I did not recognize.

So, being the paranoid person that I am, I chose to view the text later, then I went to my messages inbox to see what the first few words of the text were. 

When I did this, I discovered that the text was from one of my friends at school, whom we will call "El Pequeño," because he is short.

This is an almost exact recreation of that conversation.  (Just a note, if there are any horrible double entendres in here, they're not here on purpose.  If I said something that has an inappropriate double meaning, just assume that I meant the innocent meaning, because I am naive and don't know the other meaning.)

El Pequeño:  Watcha doing?
Me:  Reading Edgar Allan Poe (Because I was.  I was reading "The City in the Sea" when this conversation started.)
El Pequeño: Remembr when u wantd 2 make me super fat by lard cookies? (I do, in fact, remember this.  It was in seventh grade.)
Me: Yup
El Pequeño: I actually want 2 try lard cookies.  Do u still want 2 make me fat?
Me: I'm all out of lard.
El Pequeño:  Shoot.  Now how are we going 2 make me fat?
Me: Compressed air?
El Pequeño: Wud I still hav rolls and jiggle?
Me: Probably not.  But you would be fairly balloon-like.
El Pequeño: Well thts no fun.  If im gonna be baloon like i wanna b blubbery (At this point, I'm including all this texting lingo and misspellings for accuracy.  All of my texts have the words completely spelled out, with almost all of the correct punctuation and capitalization.)
Me: Well, I can't really help you with that unless I get a visit from the fat fairy.
El Pequeño: You know i wudnt mind gaining like 80 lbs cause the only difference iS tht i wud be wider.
Me: Well thats lovely (I left this text as it is, because I want to be honest with you all and show you that, sometimes, even I, one of the biggest sticklers for grammar and punctuation in my schools, do not have proper apostrophe usage in my texts.)
El Pequeño: Wat wud u do if i got 2 b like 250 lbs for real?
Me: I don't know.
El Pequeño: Wud u tease me poke me or call me names?
Me: I wouldn't laugh at you, call you names, or get my pleasure from your pain; 'cause in God's eyes we're all the same... (This is in reference to a really stupid song that one of our teachers made us listen to in fifth grade, or something.  Also, there is actually a semicolon in the original text.  I just thought you all should know.)
El Pequeño: But in like a friendly way wud u tease me?
Me: I don't know.  Maybe.
[This section of conversation removed to protect identities of innocent girls in my class.  Basically, El Pequeño asks me which girls in our class I think would get fat in college.  The kid has an obsession. Anyway, he asks me who I think would get fat in college, then I mention how we used to call one girl fat because she was really skinny, then he says who he could see getting fat in college, then asks me to pick which girls I think will get fat in college, and then I tell him I'm not going to pick a girl to get fat in college.]
El Pequeño: Yet U want me 2 get fat.  how fat do u want me to get?
Me: fat enough to make you happy.
El Pequeño: Ok. So u wudnt care if i got 2 b like 300 and walk on the beach in lime greeN gauchos? (This is a reference to an old joke.  When we had inside recess, we would always play with the Legos that one of our teachers had in her room, and there was a pair of lime green gauchos from a Barbie doll.  We jokingly called them "El Pequeño's gay pants."  We weren't the most politically correct children.)
Me: No I wouln't mind.  Much.  (The much was there because I was concerned about the prospect of this happening on a public beach and scarring innocent children for life.)
El Pequeño: U r going to b my best friend in college cause im gonna let myself go.
Me: Cool.
El Pequeño: How do you think is the fastest way 2 get fat?
Me: French fry grease milkshakes and down home southern cooking.
El Pequeño: Wow i can see myself fat already.  Ttyl.
Me:  Okay.  See you later.

I thought that that would be the end of that, but I was sadly mistaken, for the next night, I recieved a text...

El Pequeño: Watcha doing?
Me: Watching Monsters Inc.
El Pequeño: Great movie.  Wat cud u c me doing in the future?
Me: Owning a used car lot
El Pequeño: U should make those lard cookies and ill come over
Me: I'm all out of lard.
El Pequeño: what could u use as a sub?
Me: Butter?
El Pequeño: How much u think ill weigh in college?  Guess
Me: However much you want to weigh.
El Pequeño: U wudnt care if i Got obese?
Me: Not as long as you didn't eat yourself to death
El Pequeño: Wat wud ur reaction b if u saw me in 2 years and i was 300 lbs?
Me: I would say hi.
El Pequeño: U wudnt b shockd or anything?
Me: I would probably be a little surprised but I wouldn't go and scream dang dude you done got fat.
El Pequeño: Y only a lil surprised?
Me: because you are constantly talking about getting fat so I guess I'd just figure that it was going to happen eventually.
El Pequeño: Wat kind of body figure u think id have?
Me: Rotund
El Pequeño: But i mean like wud i hav a double chin a mufin top, man boobs, big butt?
Me: I don't know
El Pequeño: Wat wud u do if i got fat?
Me: I don't know
El Pequeño: Am I the only 1 tht thinks bout this?
Me: Yes.
El Pequeño: Wat wud u do if you saw me get stuck in a booth at mc Ds? (McDonald's, for those of you who might have as much difficulty figuring that out as I did.)
Me: Laugh
El Pequeño: U wud really laugh?  Wat bout not caring how fat i got?
Me: You have to admit that seeing someone stuck in a booth would be funny.  But then I'd probably get someone to help you out
El Pequeño: U should really give me tht fat fairys number
Me: She only comes to the worthy.
El Pequeño: How do I become worthy?
Me: Only the fairy knows and only the fairy decides.
El Pequeño: U think she will choose me?
Me: You can only hope
El Pequeño: Wat does she look like so i can know when shes coming?
Me: She takes many forms.
El Pequeño: How does she appear to most?
Me: She takes the form of whatever will make you the fattest
El Pequeño: I cant wait till tht day!

Then I didn't reply to tha, because I thought it was a good place to end the conversatino at, but ,apparently, I was mistaken.

El Pequeño: WAts so wrong about Being fat anyway? (I have no idea what is going on with his shift button here.)
Me: Nothing.  It's (the people who are intolerant of those of greater girth) just the man tring to keep you down.
El Pequeño: It wud be great 2 b fat.  All y do is eat and jiggle!
Me: that sounds wonderful
El Pequeño: I know. Being fat is perfectly fine and im gonna get (girl in our class) fat and we will spread the word.
Me: That's nice.
El Pequeño: Oh it is.  Ttyl im tired.
Me: Okay

Then I turned my phone off last night, because I knoew it was just going to happen again, and I had homework to do.  When I turned it back on, I had two unread messages from El Pequeño, both reading "whatcha doing?"

I don't think it will ever stop.

One question plagues me, though.

Who gave him my number?