Darn you! Read my forkin' blog!

Spiffy, for some reason, thinks I have no phone skills. I don't know where she got that idea...

This is a normal ride-home-from-school phone call to Mother:

"Darn you! Darrrrrrnnnn yoooooou! Pick up the forkin' phone! Darn you! Oh, hello, this is John S.  McCain speaking. Ha ha ha, no, it's me, Libby, your daughter. Not your son, 'cause I'm not a man. No, I'm not! Gosh! Anyway, I'm in the car with, like, five people and Pascale's mom is driving me home because it would be weird if she didn't. But then Pascale had this idea, she was like, 'Oh my gosh!' and we were like 'Oh your gosh what?' and she was like, 'Y'all should hang with me!' and we were like, 'That's rockin', dude!' Yeah, that was how it went. So can I? Hang with Pascale and people?"

See, that's perfectly normal.

I had my Girl Scouts over last night. And the cousin. She's not one of my girl scouts, but she's a girl scout and she's my cousin, so it works. She and Liss informed me that they always keep a tab up on their computers with my blog on it, which I find a little creepy. If I was going to say who my biggest fans are, it would be you guys. I'm basking in your slightly stalkerish adoration over here.

Both of them (Liss and Audrey) told me no less than five times that I was "Hitler incarnate." They also accused me of wanting to "kill all non-Aryans" and told me that "you should start in America because we have a lot of people who aren't blonde and blue-eyed." Since I know you have a tab up and are reading this, I'm going to talk to you two. Everyone else who isn't either of them, look away now and don't look back until I tell you to. This paragraph does not concern you.

To Audrey and Liss: I have told you several times to stop it. I find it extremely offensive that you would even compare me to Hitler. I am the person who cried so hard she had to leave the room when our teacher taught about the Holocaust. There is a difference between liking blonde hair and wanting to kill people who aren't blonde. I have no problem with any hair color; I just like blonde more. Hitler was a horrible person. The Holocaust was a horrible thing. I don't even like bringing it up in conversation, much less being accused of wanting to do something like that. End of rant. Please, shut up.

You can look now. I should probably have written this on my list yesterday (I told you it would grow!):

• Blondes

I spent about ten minutes this morning cleaning up after all y'all. More than half of that was spent sorting the game cards into six equal piles and making sure they were all facing the same way. I'm not OCD! Kimchi Kat kept getting in the way by sitting in the box and rubbing her little kitty face on the cards while I was trying to sort them. I still love her very much, though. She was creeped out by everyone sleeping in the basement. The poor kitty had no idea what to do.

Also last night, I allowed Liss to braid my hair into ten different little braids. She was laughing at me because I divided my hair into sections before I brushed it. It's not my fault I have a lot of hair. It comes naturally. I slept with it like that and they called me Medusa all night long...I'm crying here. Show some sympathy. And then when I took it out, it was all funky. Yes, that's how it was. All funky. I am not going to describe what that means.

We tried to watch Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, but certain people laughing their heads off on Facebook caused Liss to pause every few seconds. Then she started saying "I luv ya, man!" every time Harry was in the vicinity of a male character, just because she could really imagine him saying that. Half an hour into the movie, after everyone had finally migrated over in front of the television, it skipped back to the beginning.

Our movie-viewing was obviously doomed from the start.

I could probably think of a few more things to write about, but I don't feel like it.

I really don't want to go back to school tomorrow. I haven't done much over break, and I like it that way. I'd almost rather have the knowledge that I could do something than actually do it. Plus, school is so...educational. I'm not looking forward to homework, classes, or the Walk of Shame every morning. Oh, or band...I haven't practiced since I left the house Friday last week. Fork.

Break really is a break, you know? Like someone hit the pause button on my life and let me have a while to sleep it off, but they're going to hit play again tomorrow and expect me to me ready. I don't want to play...

I'm using a lot of ellipses and also not making sense to myself.