Shakespeare is a cabbage.

Today marks an important day in the history of my blog. When I began typing pseudocurses into the search bar, the web address finished itself for me. I was thrilled. I have been waiting for this to happen ever since I started this blog. It's too hard to type pseudocurses into the search bar every time. It's a long word, and it's really obnoxious to spell. I should have called it something easier.

That's at least the fourth time I've said that.

Anyway, Earth Day was a few days ago. I should have done something special for Earth Day, but wearing my awesome Save the Sea Kittens hoodie was enough for me. Earth Day. It's exciting. I'm over it now.

I've been reading a lot of books lately, as usual. Unfortunately, I don't feel like telling you about any of them. You can just suffer, all right? I don't care.

Fine. I do care. I have trouble lying online. This is a problem that I might need to work on for later in life.

I just bought some new books recently. Melting Stones, which was fabulous simply because Tamora Pierce wrote it, was one. I also got Airhead and Skinned, which I hadn't expected to be about the same thing. Airhead is by that Meg Cabot woman (calling authors that ... guy/woman is how I show my admiration for them. Really.), which is good because I like her, but I think Skinned might have been its author's first novel. I just got it because that Scott Westerfeld guy wrote about it on his blog. Anyway, they were both about teenage chicks and body-swapping. Good books, though, although Skinned was good because I like sci-fi and robots and Airhead was good because I like Meg Cabot.

The problem with me trying to write a blog post is that I feel too apathetic to write anything. I mean, obviously I can write down some nonsense and random words that don't flow together.

Example:

fish yellow cowboy potato Spain dogs blondies cats tofu mariachi fortissimo fabulous fantastic great spiffing amazing English Welsh bonsai kamikaze donut

I can also conjugate French verbs, but I don't think that's writing as much as it is memorizing and then spitting it back up.

Example:

je choisis

tu choisis

elle chosit

nous choisissons

vous choisissez

elles choisissent

If you take French, or if you just have any reason to speak French, tell me if that was right. If you don't take French, what's the matter with you? Go sign up for a French class right this moment and learn it!

The point of blogging isn't really to write down what happens to you. I mean, obviously on one level it is. If I wasn't writing this about my life, I wouldn't be writing it about anything. Blogging is, in my opinion (don't listen to me; I'm a lazy blogger and I only started doing this a few months ago) more about writing your opinions on your life. I mean, my favorite kitty Lulu died is only really sad if you also write about how Lulu being sad makes you feel. Writing I had fun in Science today is only interesting if I explain why I had fun in Science class (which I won't, just to keep this blog to a PG-13 rating).

Having a broken z key has made me realize how many times a day I call myself lazy. Now that it comes out as lay all the time, I notice it more. Maybe I should work on being more productive and procrastinating less...

You can see what's coming here, right? I'll let you say it with me. Wait--I want to make sure you're there on the other side of the Internet, talking with me. Don't want to talk to a computer because it'll be a little (or a lot) psycho? Kiss my grits. Okay, one...two...three...

No, I'm too lazy.

My English teacher, who shall from this point on be known as The Sherm, is having us do a unit on Shakespeare. The Sherm was the best nickname I could come up with on short notice, not like the half of advisory I spent deciding to call my history teacher Mr. X. The problem with Queen Mrs. K. L. Sherman is that it's too long for me to type, and QMKLS is one of the strangest acronyms I've ever seen. 

The first thing you must understand about Shakespeare--this is absolutely imperative to know--is that he is a cabbage. Yes. Shakespeare is a cabbage. Or, he was a cabbage, as I should say. I don't know why Shakespeare is a cabbage. I vaguely remember reading it somewhere and being deeply amused. I guess it was in some book I read when I was younger. Anyway, he is.

I was in The Sherm's fortress of EVIL, room 224, and she was forcing ufs to submit to her will through a substitute teacher by the name of Ms. Winn. Even though she was not with us, her malevolent presence was felt throughout the room, from the bookshelf that would fall over if you gave it one good kick to the can of chocolate dead parrots with the pens ending in fake flowers. I know I felt her presence. Anyone else in that class: were you feeling that aura of malevolence?

We were watching some dumb instructional video about Shakespeare, and we were supposed to be taking notes. I'm not sure anyone did. Well, I did. Sort of.

Example of my notes:

oh crap! THE PLAGUE

Shakespeare=a cabbage=ol' C

ol' C stuck five Iambs in a sentence and called it Iambic pentameter

ha-ha, let's stick Aristotle in somehow! No.

It's a good thing I knew most of the stuff she quizzed us on. I would have done terribly if I'd actually needed those notes. Note to self: take better notes.

That's all for today, dear readers.

Wait, no, it's not. I just want to point out that alternating between calling you dear readers and infidels is perfectly normal and shows no sign of mental disorder on my part. Thank you.

Infidels.