tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70635431152217462792024-03-13T09:23:53.216-07:00PseudocursesDon't forking swear!Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-25386157875233066962010-02-17T16:32:00.001-08:002010-02-18T18:38:47.273-08:00Ha, kittens.Tee hee, y'all.<div><br /></div><div>I thought that was pretty funny, you know. Writing a three-word blog post? High wit. I certainly laughed while I was typing it up. But I didn't laugh for very long because, you know, three words.</div><div><br /></div><div>The point was that I've been trying to prove to the wife (that's Erin, if you're out of the loop) that I don't always think about kittens. She thinks I do, just because I write the word 'kittens' on my papers and say 'kittens' at random times and go on <a href="http://kittenwar.com/">kittenwar</a> all the time. I tell you, though, these are completely normal behaviors. Other people do stuff like that, right? Right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>I wrote about drugs for a while, but then I got bored and erased it all. And not <i>drugs </i>drugs, you know, just non-prescription Ibuprofen. Prescription's such a funny word. In French it's <i>prescrire</i>, and it always cracks me up for some reason. Don't ask.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was "taking notes" in Sam's class today, but it was okay because we didn't actually have to take notes. I was just writing down some important things, like "Les Mis does not equal Mulan" and "in Soviet Russia, machine loves you." Erin was adding her own notes, and she told me I needed to put in the ninja ampersand. Then she said some rude things, like "Santa > &," which aside from being rude is entirely untrue.</div><div><br /></div><div>She told me I should put the ninja ampersand somewhere in my notes, so I did. Then she looked for it, but it was such a good ninja that she couldn't find it. Ha.</div><div><br /></div><div>The point of that was that I was reminded of the epic saga of the fabulous exclamation point and the ninja ampersand. That's right, it's become an epic saga. I mention it about twice and write a little dialogue and it changes into an EPIC SAGA. Such is the power of my brain.</div><div><br /></div><div>We have a new character in our, uh, epic saga. It is the question mark, the exclamation point's best friend. The two of them are like this !? which incidentally makes its own type of punctuation, the interrobang. The question mark is at this moment using lots of interrobangs as it yells at the exclamation point. You don't need to know what it's saying, just that it involves a lot of "you're an idiot" and "why did you tell it to go away when you love it!?"</div><div><br /></div><div>The exclamation point was going to come up with a totally legitimate reason, but eventually it had to except that it was acting totally irrational (after the question mark yelled at it for a while. The question mark can be quite scary sometimes). So now the exclamation point is sulking and wishing it hadn't been so stupid.</div><div><br /></div><div>The ampersand is pretending it didn't happen. It's training its new ninja proteg<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">é, the number 2. I bet you didn't know it hopes to be a ninja. Well, it does. It aspires to be a ninja. It dreams of being a ninja. It...really wants to be a ninja, okay? Unfortunately, it's completely unimportant as of right now, because it has no clue of the exclamation point's burning love for the ampersand. The ampersand doesn't really like to talk about personal relationships while training, and the two can be pretty single-minded when it comes to the way of the ninja.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">Then............</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">(Look, lots of dots! Dots dots dots! Guess what comes after the dots! {No, it's not 'Light' or 'tom bombadil,' okay? [look, parentheses inside parentheses inside parentheses! Maybe now I can look into a mirror and it'll be another mirror!]})</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">The fabulous exclamation point showed up at the ninja ampersand's top secret ninja training facility and said, "AMPERSAND. WE NEED TO TALK."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">And that's it for now, dear readers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">In related news, look at this picture I found when I Googled "ampersand and exclamation point:" <a href="http://us.cdn2.123rf.com/168nwm/tmcnem/tmcnem0712/tmcnem071200010.jpg">& and !</a> It has a question mark too, but that's okay.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">In completely unrelated news, my whole 'write a thousand words a day' plan? It's working out. As of '13 February 2010,' as I wrote at the top of the Sticky on which I'm keeping track, I have counted 7,660 words. So yeah. That's not bad. (Most of them are under 'RITZY,' but hey. Still words.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Cambria;">Ciao, infidels~!</span></div><!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment-->Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-3890755963736193402010-02-16T13:43:00.000-08:002010-02-16T13:44:07.942-08:00Kittens.That is all.Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-72127948203107230042010-02-14T20:41:00.000-08:002010-02-14T21:17:50.144-08:00Guess what?<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bmhjf0rKe8">Look at this video of a kitten on YouTube again!</a><div><br /></div><div>Yeah.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sitting here late at night and the cousin is leaning on me. She's also tickling my side, or she was, but I think she's giving that up. Do you hear that, cousin? I think you're giving that up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry if this ends up sounding like me talking to the cousin, but it's not like this blog ever sounds like anything normal.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today is Valentine's Day, you know. I like to call it "V-Day" because that's cuter. Kind of like "X-mas," although X-mas is a legitimate term that was used way before texting shorthand came into public use. I mean, people were saying X-mas before smell phones were invented.</div><div><br /></div><div>I did practically nothing for V-Day, which is a shame because it's one of the cutest, most commercial holidays ever. All I did was get presents from my parents (rice crackers with seaweed, Japanese chocolate mushrooms, and white gum, because that's what every girl needs on V-Day) and hang out with the cousin.</div><div><br /></div><div>The cousin is now lying on the floor trying to make the cat love her. It's a losing battle, cousin. (Good God, she's not even next to me and I'm talking to her. I must be slowly losing my mind. I love you, everyone! Remember that when I go insane and try to throw kittens at you when I see you because I'm too crazy to care who you are, okay?) The cat will never love you. The cat might be a space alien, or a robot, or an Animagus, or a ninja, but no matter what, she is heartless.</div><div><br /></div><div>I mean, if she knew what V-Day was, she would probably refuse to celebrate it. She would be one of those people who goes, "Ew, sparkles and pink and love and happiness! I want to go sulk in my basement lair and eat frogs or something." She's just a little jerk kitty that way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another non-human who I've nonetheless decided hates V-Day is the exclamation point. It's not a ninja exclamation point, because it's not subtle enough to be a ninja, but I'm still not sure what it is. It might just be a random exclamation point. Or a <i>fabulous</i> exclamation point. <i>Yeah</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the fabulous exclamation point is Not Happy. With the capitals. The exclamation point is the kind of not happy that can't be expressed by lowercase letters, all right? See, it's in love with the ninja ampersand. It wants to marry the ninja ampersand and, like, have its children or something. Although I don't think that would work out because they're both "its," being punctuation.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But I'm getting off track. The fabulous exclamation point is deeply in love with the ninja ampersand. You'd think that wouldn't be a problem, because the exclamation point is very forward with its feelings, but no. The exclamation point said, "AMPERSAND I LOVE YOU LOL," and waited for an answer.</div><div><br /></div><div>The ninja ampersand actually kind of ignored it, if you can believe that. The ninja ampersand was on a Top Secret Ninja Mission and didn't have time for exclamation points who caps lock too much.</div><div><br /></div><div>So the exclamation point sulked for a while, and then it said, "OMG AMPERSAND PLZ TALK TO ME!!!" because it wanted the ampersand to talk to it. Their conversation went a little bit like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>&: ...</div><div>!: WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO ME??</div><div>&: can't talk. important ninja mission.</div><div>!: NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME MY LOVE</div><div>&: ...</div><div>!: SO AMPERSAND. I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION. ALMOST AS IMPORTANT AS ME, SO THAT'S PRETTY IMPORTANT</div><div>&: later. i'm busy.</div><div>!: I DON'T CARE. AMPERSAND. DO YOU LOVE ME??</div><div>&: i said i'm busy.</div><div>!: ANSWER MY QUESTION HONEY</div><div>&: ...</div><div>!: OMG YOU DON'T LOVE ME DO YOU??</div><div>&: it's not that.</div><div>!: YOU HATE ME OMGOMGOMG YOU RUINED MY V-DAY OMG I'M NEVER GOING TO BE THE SAME YOU HEARTBREAKER</div><div>&: exclamation point, i said it's not that. i just have an important ninja job and i really shouldn't be talking to you right now</div><div>!: YOU HATE ME OMGOMG JERKBAIT I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU</div><div>&: well, if you're going to be like that</div><div>!: LIKE WHAT? I'M GOING TO BE LIKE WHAT?</div><div>&: i thought you weren't talking to me.</div><div>!: I THOUGHT YOU HAD AN IMPORTANT JOB.</div><div>&: well...look, i'm sorry. can we talk later?</div><div>!: NO BECAUSE I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU. EVER AGAIN. SO THAT MEANS NEVER</div><div>&: but you're talking to me</div><div>!: I AM NOT. GO AWAY. STUPID NINJA AMPERSAND</div><div>&: fine, i will</div><div>!: ...</div><div>!: COME BACK I LOVE YOU</div><div>!: -CRIES- -IN CAPS LOCK-</div><div><br /></div><div>That was my V-Day story for you. It was kind of sad, I guess, but maybe the ninja ampersand and the fabulous exclamation point will get a happy ending later when I'm not tired out of my mind and with the cousin. Right now the two of them are kind of like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>&||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||!</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe tomorrow they'll be like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>& !</div><div><br /></div><div>But I doubt it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sad V-Day, but hey! It's twelve-twelve, so technically it's not even V-Day anymore!</div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-78662321319285235962010-02-13T21:06:00.000-08:002010-02-13T21:29:03.033-08:00I bet you thought I was going to blog more.I have two words for you. <div><br /></div><div>(They're not <i>I lied </i>or <i>you're gullible</i> or<i> rainbow kittens</i>, although those would all work. Except maybe rainbow kittens, but they're just so <a href="http://fi.somethingawful.com/customtitles/title-rainbow_kittens-5.jpg">cute.</a>)</div><div><br /></div><div>Actually, it's one word, but I'm saying it twice, so I think that makes it count as two words. Right? Someone back me up here.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Ha ha.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>So there you are. Just because I am doing this insane thing that I'm probably going to quit in a few days when I have homework again does not mean I'm going to devote more of my time to you. That's right. I wrote eighteen hundred words today and none of them were for you. They were all for me. I'm keeping them forever, hidden in little folders on Lisette that say "writing" and are purple. That's right, purple.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, maybe I'll give you a word. I mean, I have eighteen hundred. I can spare some. Here's a word: <i>objectified.</i> Heck, here's a sentence: <i>Are you off your meds?</i> That's right; I think making fun of people who are taking medication for whatever reason is extremely funny. Ha ha. Ha. Do you see me laughing? Of course you don't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry if this is coming across as a little bit, I don't know, insane or disjointed or insane or something. It's too late and I should be sleeping, but I felt like bragging.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't have anything else to write now, but I feel somewhere in my cold heart that I should write more than just "ha ha I'm so cool" before I give up on you. I just have no clue what to write. Even my muse isn't helping me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I have a muse now, as of twelve twenty-two a.m. EST. It is the empty bag of "NORI MAKI ARARE rice crackers w/seaweed" next to my bed. They were delicious while they lasted. Salty and crunchy and seaweedy and everything. Yum.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some people would say that I should throw them out, but I'm not some people! I'm the hero! Anyway, this is my new totally justified reason (read: excuse) not to throw them out. This empty bag of seaweed-related food is inspiring me. It is sending brainwaves into my...brain. It is giving me all kinds of fabulous ideas just by rustling its plasticy plastic.</div><div><br /></div><div>...Yeah, I need to get some sleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry for not really blogging, but I can pretend, right? And so can you, infidels! Ciao!</div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-58926514412871083162010-02-11T14:28:00.000-08:002010-02-11T15:30:47.849-08:00Blogging again.So I've decided to try this thing where I write a thousand words a day. Kind of like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">NaNo</span>, I guess, but not necessarily about the same thing. Anyway, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">NaNo</span> was more like one thousand, six hundred sixty-seven words a day until you started getting behind, and then you ended up with three thousand words a day for a week...<div><br /></div><div>Good times.</div><div><br /></div><div>The cat is sitting on my bed. She's not touching me; that would be too much for her little kitty brain to handle. She's just sitting a safe distance away and twitching like the twitchy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">meeper</span> she is. I swear, she is the weirdest cat ever, and all cats are weird.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've started to say "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">meep</span>" all the time. It's just terrible, I tell you. I go through phases of saying random words whenever I can. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Meep</span>. Squish. Sometimes I wish I could just talk like a normal person and not have to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">meep</span> at people.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was getting off the bus a few days ago, and I caught my bag between my leg and one of the seats. I made a "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">meep</span>!" noise, because of course that makes sense. John (our bus driver looks remarkably like a young John McCain, so I call him John) said, "You're welcome."</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Meep</span>!</div><div>John: You're welcome!</div><div>Erin: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">LOLWUT</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>No, really. I think she said that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh my gosh, that just reminded me of how while I was standing around in the snow feeling like a pimp today, this guy walked by and told his friend about how something "made him <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">lol</span>." I was like, "Go away, dude."</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, now the cat is actually sitting TOUCHING ME and PURRING. I can't believe it. I will treasure this for the rest of my life. This kind of thing happens once in a lifetime, or maybe just once a month, but not very often nonetheless. I'm so proud of her. This is like a step to becoming normal.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">!</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Do you know what song I keep listening to? Of course you don't, unless you're some kind of mind-reader. Please don't tell me you're a mind-reader. I would be seriously freaked out if someone turned out to be reading my mind. Sometimes in class I do that thing I saw on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">MLIA</span>, where you think very loudly, "If you can hear me, cough," and then I feel really, really relieved when no one coughs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, song.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgKrzdaDQMw">Paparazzi</a>." By, you know, that Lady Gaga woman. (I wanted to say "that Lady Gaga lady," but that would be a major visit to the Department of Redundancy Department. Wow, I keep getting sidetracked today. My mind is, like, not staying focused.&)</div><div><br /></div><div>ANYWAY. Seriously this time. You can tell I'm serious because I used CAPS LOCK.</div><div><br /></div><div>I keep singing it in my head and stuff, except I replace the word "paparazzi" with "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">stalkerazzi</span>." Seriously, if you've heard the song, it makes perfect sense. <i>I'm your biggest fan/ I'll follow you until you love me...</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Why am I listening to this? Someone hit me, or something.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have you noticed that I keep sending you to links? It's to distract you from the way I'm too lazy to write anything of substance. Look! <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-GpLaUHnnE">A turtle eating a strawberry!</a> <a href="http://spl225.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/going-bovine.jpg">The cover of "Going Bovine!" </a><a href="http://www.ministryimagery.org/ImagePreview/Render/Water/PurpleWater.jpg">Purple water!</a></div><div><br /></div><div>...Yeah. I should just stop right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>In case you haven't noticed, the ninja ampersand is hiding somewhere on this page. The exclamation point is also somewhere, but it's a little more conspicuous.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Okay, a lot more conspicuous.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">By the way, this was 596 words. 404 to go...and homework, of course.</span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-53850073291820665772010-02-08T14:34:00.000-08:002010-02-09T16:42:51.783-08:00I'm just in a writing mood recently.Does anyone else know how that is? You go along for days, weeks, whatever, barely writing anything, and then suddenly you just have to write. I wrote like twenty-five hundred words this weekend, and then I spent most of lunch writing too. (Sorry guys). I can't help it. I just have to write right now.<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, that's why I'm finally blogging. I am not a creature of habit, okay? I am my own person, with my own random reasons for doing everything. No one can make me do anything I don't want to do. I mean, actually, you can, but...</div><div><br /></div><div>God. I've been doing that more often recently, you know. I trail off at the ends of sentences. I don't like doing it. It makes me feel wussy -- I'm sorry, I mean it makes me feel like the <i>sympathetic individual </i>I am.</div><div><br /></div><div>***---***---***---***---***---**&*---***---***---***-!--***---</div><div><br /></div><div>Two days after I wrote that first part (you can tell time passed because of the random punctuation) it became obvious to me that I'm not in a very big writing mood. If I had really felt like writing, I would have managed to finish more than three short paragraphs of a blog post.</div><div><br /></div><div>In other news, did you see that the ninja ampersand has an exclamation point friend? The exclamation point is not a ninja. The exclamation point is...I don't know. Something that is also very good at disguising itself, like a ninja. Maybe it has an invisibility cloak, or maybe it's just magical. Or (this is the other option) the ampersand is a ninja that can actually hide itself and be subtle, and the exclamation point fails at subtlety.</div><div><br /></div><div>Exclamation points aren't very subtle. I mean, obviously they're not, because they're PUNCTUATION and punctuation doesn't have emotions, but I don't think of them as being subtle. Think of this as <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">synesthesia</span>, except with punctuation having feelings instead of numbers having smells, or whatever <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">synesthesia</span> really is. I'm too lazy to skim the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Wikipedia</span> article to get the vague, ambiguously true facts the way I do to learn most of the things I know.</div><div><br /></div><div>!!! -- exclamation points. They're fabulous and loud and don't shut up. And when you put too many of them in a row they look tacky. And...you can put tildes in front of them and then Erin (and probably other people, too, but I only know of her) calls it a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">squee</span> squiggle~!</div><div><br /></div><div>;;; -- semicolons. They're sort of confused and unhappy because they always have to join independent clauses and they never get to have any fun. That's not saying I don't live semicolons; I do love them. Semicolons are some of my favorites.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">::: -- colons. Colons are cute but no-nonsense. Like librarians, or something.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">??? -- question marks. They're like little kids: one can be cute, but too many in a group are just obnoxious. Or maybe that's just me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">... -- periods. Periods are just boring, okay?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">,,, -- commas. It is Gertrude Stein's opinion that commas "are servile and they have no life of their own." I have to tell you, I like commas. I like them a little too much. They're just so helpful for breaking up my thoughts and creating natural pauses and when I write without them I get confused, and I have to go back to using them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">&&& -- ampersands. They're pretty much fabulous.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">——— -- em dashes. (Not to be confused with en dashes or hyphens, even though all three of them are little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">slashy</span> lines.) Em dashes are just normal, but kind of amazing at the same time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">/// -- virgules. I actually don't care about virgules, I just wanted an excuse to type that. Try saying it out loud sometime. <i>Virgule</i>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">So, now that I'm done obsessing, shall we go back to my endlessly fascinating life? I think we shall.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">(If you don't think my life is endlessly fascinating, why are you still here? Go read <a href="http://maureenjohnson.blogspot.com/">Maureen Johnson's blog</a> or <a href="http://scottwesterfeld.com/blog/">Scott <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Westerfeld's</span> blog</a> or watch <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKakaqwx6mg">this video</a> I found on YouTube just now of a cat meowing. Or watch this mystery video by clicking on this percent sign <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HrSN7176XI">%</a>.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I passed all my classes with flying colors, by which I mean I got all A's. That's right, everyone. I win.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I am hoping very much that tomorrow is a snow day. It's supposed to snow a whole bunch, etc etc, and I don't really feel like writing this anymore, so deal with it, infidels.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Ciao.</span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-52688524653905221192010-01-13T13:46:00.000-08:002010-01-18T11:56:33.203-08:00It's Wednesday, January 13th.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>2010. 4:47 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Et cetera.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm writing this because Nathanael said, and I quote, "blog more! now!!!!!!!!!!" Now I'm never safe to go online without someone yelling at me. I have the cousin (or not, since I never talk to her. Just to avoid this), and I have the fishy, and now I have Nathanael. He's not the anything, except maybe the Asian. Oh, and he's the chick, but I'm not even going to try to explain that.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The tab at the top of the screen here says "Apple." I can't for the life of me tell you why. The weirdest part is that the bar at the very top, which is supposed to say the same thing, says "Blogger: Pseudocurses - Create Post." This is either a problem with Blogger or a problem with Lisette. I'd prefer to think it's a problem with Blogger, because Lisette is like my metal and plastic and whatever else people put in computers child.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was going to write about a terrible habit I've picked up recently. What was it? Good God, I can't even remember my own bad habits. How will I make fun of other people if I can't remember the obnoxious things they do? I think my life is ending. Do you hear it ending? It's making this scratching noise and meowing and...that's the cat outside the door. Okay. Anyway, where was I?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Oh yes. Terrible habits. I was going to squish about the way I use 'squish' as a verb in situations that are totally wrong. I know I already wrote about that, but that was a few days ago. You've probably already forgotten, or something. I know I had, until I looked it up.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The fishy thinks I should squish an entire blog post of squishing that word into the wrong place. I said to her, "Erin, you're a psycho. No one will understand that." She said, "Well, you don't have to do EVERY word! Leave enough normal so people know what you're talking about." Then I think I might have said, "Maybe I can squish that."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I mean, I'm sure it's possible. The fishy and I once had an entire conversation about the colonization of various countries by Europe by pointing at a map and saying "squish" a lot. It went something like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Dude, that's weird. Look at the US; it's like squish.</div><div>Erin: You're right! It is like squish.</div><div>Me: But I thought the US was still being squished by England whenever this map is.</div><div>Erin: No, the US squished England. Remember?</div><div>Me: Oh. Yeah. Hey, why hasn't anyone squished Africa?</div><div>Erin: Because it's a desert?</div><div>Me: Well, no one squished the Sahara. But there are other parts that aren't squishy. Like, here.</div><div>Erin: Oh, yeah. It's all not squish.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Then Australia turned into BAM-Land. Bioterrorism was involved. And, as everyone knows, you can't sell Canadians. They get kind of mad.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I need to go eat dinner soon. I eat food. I know, it's shocking. There are so many other things to do with food, but I choose to eat the stuff.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You probably can't tell, but about forty-five minutes passed between the end of that paragraph and the start of this one. Maybe I should go back and put some tildes and asterisks in so you know I'm serious. Random punctuation always makes me think more of the person writing. You know what, I'll just put the tildes and asterisks here.</div><div><br /></div><div>~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~&~*~*~*~</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Did you see the ampersand I snuck in? It's a ninja ampersand. Punctuation so often goes to ninja finishing school to train in the ways of the ninja.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm running out of things to say (or write. Whatever), so I'm just going to copy some things other people have already written. Sometimes we call this plagiarism. Sometimes we call it being lazy.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Right here with me, I have my copy of "How Not To Write." I got it for Christmas this year (in case you were wondering, last year I got an OED. That's because I'm fabulous). It is full of fab, advice, and grammar humor. Here are some examples.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Stuff From "How Not To Write":</b></div><div><ul><li>One will not have needed the future perfect tense in one's entire life.</li><li>You should just avoid confusing readers with misplaced modifiers.</li><li>Remember to never split an infinitive. </li><li>Don't verb nouns.</li><li>Don't use Capital letters without good REASON.</li></ul><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>If you didn't understand that, I am totally willing to lend you my copy.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>How was that for a blog post? Admittedly, I stole someone else's humor because I was too lazy to be funny on my own and wrote about ninja punctuation ... but I enjoyed it, and that's all that matters, infidels.</div></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-20744257037936763292010-01-02T14:11:00.000-08:002010-01-06T14:27:10.628-08:00Happy forking New Year!<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's the year of the tiger now. I tried to look that up on Wikipedia, but it didn't work out for me. I did find out that 2010 is the year in which the Dynamic Tower in Dubai will be finished. <a href="http://www.dynamicarchitecture.net/">Dynamic Architecture</a> is, by the way, that guy who makes buildings that spin. Usually I call them that, or sometimes even, "the buildings that go spinny-spinny." This is because I am a master of language.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, the buildings spin. It's kind of amazing. They're also prefabricated, so each individual floor was premade and just stacked up. Oh, and the best part (other than the way they spin. The spinning is pretty special) is that they move according to voice commands. You can say, "Move, infidel," and your floor will spin around in circles. How cool is that?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Apple is maybe-possibly-sort-of making a tablet computer. The <i>iSlate, </i>maybe. It's like a </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">cross between an iPhone and a computer. It seems like the kind of thing people would have in </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">the FUTURE, when we all drive our hovercars to work and vacation on the moon and live in </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">bubbles underwater.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Obviously twenty-ten is now the FUTURE. How does it feel to be living in such a </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">FUTURISTIC world filled with advanced technology? I feel pretty good about it, actually. I like </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">the FUTURE so far. It's not bad. Last year, I was all, "Oh gosh! The new year is fast approaching!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">What if aliens come and take over our planet, demanding chocolate and firstborn children?" </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">But so far there have been no alien invasions, so I think we're doing well. This is obviously the </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">right way to measure the worth of a year: Well, no aliens...Everything is hunky-dory!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In other news, we will now write the word FUTURE and anything that has anything to do </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">with it in all caps. This makes no sense if you think about it and goes against the conventions </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">of standard English, but we all know I don't care at all about standard English. I mean, good </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">God. Have you seen me type recently? It's "lolz" this and ":)" that, with a side of lowercase </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">letters.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Lol.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My God, look at me. I can't even write "lol" without capitalizing it and putting a period </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">after it. I won't be able to survive if the chit-chatty texting-talk takes over the world. They'll </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">probably lock me up for impeding progress after I spend ten minutes writing out a full reply </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">to something instead of just typing "k lol." I'll be imprisoned for my conservative ideas. Do </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">people do that? Jail people for not being radical enough? I mean, I guess they did that during </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">the French Revolution, but...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm rambling. You don't want to read this, do you? You probably want my thoughts to be </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">clear and organized, like pencils lined up on a desk. I would do that for you, I swear I would, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">but my thoughts aren't neat like pencils. My thoughts are like (insert some wild hand gestures </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">and waving of hair) <i>wheee! BAM! Kittens! Squishy wiggle twitcher fuzzy! Super special! Eep! </i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">and I don't think they would make sense to anyone else.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm making increasingly less sense, you know. I used to be clear when I spoke. I used to be </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">able to explain things to people and have them nod and say, "Thanks, Libby. I get it now." But </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">now I have trouble saying thinks without putting "squish" in the sentence instead of a more </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">commonly accepted verb.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><b>Sentences That Would Make Sense If You Were Me, Or Alternately, If You Were </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><b>Insane</b></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">Oh no! I squished it wrong!</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">Erin squished me again when I tried to name my phone Renesmee.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">I squished the cat.</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">Where do I squish these?</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">I was all like, "You know, it's squishy," and she was all like, "I don't understand you."</span></li></ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Ooh, we could make an activity out of it! I love activities! Y'all can guess what verbs I </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">replaced with "squish." Tell me later, if, you know, I ever actually see you. (Wow, commas.) If </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">I don't actually see you, then I don't care what you do. Oh, that was mean of me. You can </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">always post little squishies (comments! I mean comments!) on this post. It makes me feel </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">special when people comment, and since I never post, no one ever has the opportunity.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So I'm sorry if this was weirdly formatted and hard to read. Blogger hates me sometimes. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">I give it presents and say, "Blogger, <i>je t'aime bien</i>," to it so it loves me, but it doesn't always </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">work. Just try to read this. I know you'll try very hard because my thoughts are so fascinating. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">I know it makes me feel better to know I'm still thinking.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Peace out, dear readers.</span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-15908125491030032762009-12-21T17:59:00.000-08:002009-12-23T14:26:26.020-08:00This is me blogging.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's nothing you haven't seen before. I sit down at my computer and prepare to hammer out something that will end up taking the shape of a decent blog post. I complain a lot to whoever I'm talking to through the glory that is the Internet (sometimes through random punctuation that has no meaning to anyone but me, like this charming message I sent to Erin: ...!? ;;;;; && ^ : ) : ) ^^ ). And then eventually I get over it and write.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Christmastime is fast approaching, you know. In fact, there are some who would say it's been here for weeks. I mean, the Christmas music has been playing nonstop for ages. When we eat lunch in Kerrytown, there are always cheerful songs about Jesus and angels and Christmas spirit playing in the background. It's driving me crazy.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm not completely sure what my position on Christmas music is. I think I'll make some lists. That's what the characters in the novels I've been reading do. List-making is big in YA. It's a very easy way to write things out without actually having to develop them, you know. Perfect for NaNoWriMo.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, the lists:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Bad Things About Christmas Music:</span></div><div><ul><li>There is nothing else during the month of December. Nothing</li><li>I think "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and that other song, the one with the bells, are some of the most depressing songs ever</li><li>You hear every song over and over</li><li>As a result of that, it gets stuck in your head</li><li>It's super annoying to find yourself humming it when you could be humming something, else, like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Xj08-_Rmq4">"I'll Make A Man Out Of You"</a></li></ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Good Things About Christmas Music:</span></div><div><ul><li>It's only around for a month</li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Okay, so now I know I hate Christmas music. This is so refreshing. The only problem is this: I might still like it. I mean, there are many things I like even though they're obviously terrible and I should hate them. I just can't think of any off the top of my head. People who know me can think of them for me, right? I trust you to know me better than I know my own self.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That reminds me of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span>. I'm starting to love it again. There, something for the "this is horrible but I love it like my own psychotic, unclean child" list. I think it was discovering <a href="http://mylifeistwilight.com/">MyLifeIsTwilight dot com</a>, which is sort of like <a href="http://mylifeisaverage.com/">MLIA</a> but with worse spelling and creepier, Twi-hard posters whose lives seem to revolve around their <a href="http://sherrifoxman.typepad.com/.a/6a00d834cbf07753ef0120a5ed0ef5970b-320wi">life-size Rob Pat cutouts</a>.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Actually, it might be because I was trying to read <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Breaking Dawn</span> in French. I like to read things in French and see how much I can actually understand and how much leaves me wishing I had a French-English dictionary in my huge coat pockets. It doesn't help that books are mostly written in some weird tense I haven't learned yet, but at least I can understand some of the words. And imagine how amazed I was when Edward asked Bella, "Tu veux la voir?" and I realized that the direct object pronouns Kris Ann have been teaching us are actually used in the French language. Also, it is just as epic when Bella asks "Why am I covered in feathers?" in French.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Pourquoi suis-je couvert des plumes?</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">I don't know, Bella. Helpfully, Edward explains that it was because he bit a pillow. </span>Ou deux...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> Oh, Edward, you pillow-biter. Now I understand why so many teenage girls want to marry you. I certainly find pillow-biting attractive.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I put a lot of links into this post to distract you from actually reading it. I mean, who would pay attention to me when there's a link to Rob Pat's slightly stalkerish visage staring you in the face. Come on, click it. I dare you. I hear they call him <a href="http://poponthepop.com/images/gallery/robert-pattinson.jpg">Robward</a> now.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I can't keep writing, infidels. I have things to do. Important things. Yes. More important than spilling out my thoughts, hopes, and dreams to the Internet at large, as crazy as that may sound.<br /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-13765565517656105272009-12-01T13:20:00.000-08:002009-12-01T13:51:01.070-08:00Remember me?<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's okay if you don't. I don't really make much of a mark on the Internets. I make more of a ripple, I think. You know, because a ripple is a lovely phenomenon that spreads out in concentric circles before fading away into nothingness.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But that's not like me, because here I am! I'm back, because I really can't live for very long without knowing that I have people out there hanging onto my every word. Like the cousin. She said to me this weekend -- we were at my grandparents' house -- she said to me, "I need your blog! I need it to LIVE!" or something like that, and I said, "That's...nice, cousin."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have another excuse this time. Yes, a new one. You've never heard it before on this blog. There is a concrete reason why I haven't blogged in a month. The last few weeks of October, well. I have nothing to say about that. But I was busy for the entire month of November.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"But how can you be busy for an entire month straight?" you ask. "How can something keep you occupied for that long? Your attention span isn't really that long, is it?"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Dear readers, it is that long. My attention span was long enough to let me spend an entire month of my life on NaNoWriMo.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>NaNoWriMo is the short way to say National Novel Writing Month. (NaNo is the short way to say NaNoWriMo. Apparently writers don't like to actually write things out. Who knew?) NaNoWriMo is for crazy people who don't mind that they will have lost their souls by the time the month is over. NaNoWriMo is for masochistic nerds. NaNoWriMo is what everyone wants to do until November starts and they have to pick up their pens.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You write a novel, or at least fifty thousand words of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">something</span> in a month. Yes. 50k in thirty days. That rounds out to a neat 1666.6 words a day.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>People do it because people are crazy. People have issues. And people who think they can write have even more issues than most people, so they think writing fifty thousand words in thirty days will be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">fun.</span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>(Actually, it was fun. Shh! Don't tell anyone!)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But that's what I was doing all month. I was obsessing over my word count: Do you think I can hit 30k tonight if I'm only at 26k? I was writing a lot of things that didn't make any sense: "It appears that a small tornado has entered my classroom." I was breaking the fourth wall whenever I got bored: "And then he took the midnight train going anywhere and joined a gang in the hood." I was deleting a lot of crap: Yes, that's why you didn't see anything about gangs. I was sleeping normally...Or not.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As you can imagine, I hardly had time to do my homework, let alone update the Internet on my fascinating life. NaNo sucked up my life like a vacuum sucks up dust. Also, it stole my soul and made me go slightly crazy for a few days. But I'm all better now!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Maybe.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let's see, what happened to me today? I went to class...I went to my other class, where we talked about <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Catcher in the Rye</span>.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>God, I love that book. I liked it a lot more before we had to analyze it in class, of course, but I still love it. Holden is such a psycho. I don't think I'd like to meet him, but I love reading about him.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Nothing else really happened to me today. I can't believe I'm trying to blog about my life when nothing interesting happens in my life. I mean, I wake up, I eat some breakfast, I catch the bus, I spend several hours in a semi-controlled learning environment, I go home. Boring. Who wants to hear about that?<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I could make up something to tell you. I could say to you,<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">It was a dark and stormy day. The wind was howling like wolves howl when they haven't eaten anything for weeks and their fur is starting to fall out in patches. Water crashed against the walls of Community High School, because there's a lot of water crashing downtown. There was a flood, okay? It was flooding, and dark, and stormy, et cetera. This is very beautiful and descriptive, but it's not going anywhere because I'm too lazy to write it.</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">If that didn't bring tears to your eyes, I don't know what will.</span><br /></span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-61280471273945992082009-10-10T15:25:00.001-07:002009-10-10T16:17:56.793-07:00Irony is the new black.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don't know; I read it in a book.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I know I said I'd be bringing you my deep insights into the community at Community (people make that pun way more than the commie pun, which is obviously a better pun), but I lied. If you haven't gotten used to my false promises and backstabbing yet, you might have a problem. I mean, seriously. I haven't even written up the rest of those books I read over the summer, and that was <i>months</i> ago.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm sure anyone reading this would love to hear about fashion trends at Commie, but sadly I can't write about fashion trends. I can write about how stupid-looking I think those tights that are made to look like you're wearing socks over leggings are, and I can write about how everyone and their mother wears skinny jeans, but that's not trendiness. That's me being rude. I have one more thing to say, though: this chick in my world history class was wearing caution tape around her neck. Yes. The yellow-and-black stuff that says <i>CAUTION</i> over and over. Around her neck. I know!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I really wish that I could write about a typical day at Commie. I think I did that about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Slauson</span> once upon a time. The problem is that <i>typical</i> and <i>Commie</i> are like mangoes and jellyfish: they make you scratch your head and get a confused expression when you read them in the same sentence. <i>Commie...it's the alternative</i>, as the rainbow zebra drawing outside the office says. It's a completely unique place. Sometimes I walk in and think, <i>Wow, my school is so freaking unique.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>No, really. Yesterday, I walked in and found a group of maybe ten people singing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVbQo3IOC_A">the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air</a> outside the Dean's office. They were not serenading her, although that would have been about the funniest thing since sliced bread. They were just loitering in the hall before class, singing. I had a sudden realization that this is what life must be like in <i>High School Musical</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The other reason that it's hard to write about typical things at Commie (are you scratching your head in confusion? You should be) is that I have three different schedules every week. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I have a full schedule of four classes. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have two classes, an hour and a half of slacking-off time, and forum. And on Fridays, I get to go to all of my favorite classes!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Maybe I'll just write down all of my classes and leave you guessing. <i>Guessing about what?</i> you ask. <i>If she writes all of them, there will be nothing for us to guess!</i> I'm glad you asked that, dear readers. You will have the opportunity to guess which block I have each class! What fun! You can also try to figure out whether or not I enjoy each class from the cryptic descriptions I will leave next to the class name.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Real World Civics & Economics. </i>At Commie, we are too cool for regular classes like, say, civics or econ, so we're stuck with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">RWCampersandE</span>. Cheryl teaches it. She also has a forum, is the advisor of the Mock Trial stuff, and probably does countless other things.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Foundations of Science I.</i> Again, we're too fab for biology. We get <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">FOS</span> instead, which is like this funky combination of biology, chemistry, and...you know, other <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sciencey</span> stuff. Courtney, who's pretty awesome, teaches it, and so does C.J., who may or may not have a real name and is <i>sixteen going on thirty.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>French II</i>. French is French, <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">d'accord</span>?</i> There's not much to say about it. On the other hand, there's a lot to say about my teacher. Kris Ann is kind of a lunatic, and I mean that in the most loving way possible. She has to wear sunglasses all the time because otherwise she gets horrible migraines that have mini-stroke-like effects on her. She also squirts her students with a squirt bottle when they're being profligate. She squirted me the other day. It was pretty amazing.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Introduction to Literature. </i>In Intro to Lit, we only read depressing stuff. This is because the main teacher, Ken, is from the <i>if it ain't depressing, it ain't literature!</i> camp. Our other teacher is Ellen. She's a poet and she thinks I'm <i>a good student.</i> Stop looking at me like that. I'm a great student.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>World History. </i>Mother is of the opinion that this class is wasting her tax dollars. Sam is really nice. That's all the information I'm giving you. Think. Ponder! <i>Ruminate!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My free block is amazing and sometimes I go the library and sometimes I do my homework and sometimes <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Liss</span> and I toss the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ol</span>' pigskin and it teaches me nothing, which is why this is an atrocious run-on sentence!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Geometry.</i> It's math, okay? Math. Numbers and algebraic expressions and the Fibonacci Sequence ( 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144...). Diane teaches it. She is also a counselor. You would think that counseling would be a full-time job, but no.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Forum. </i>Well. They tell us that forum is a class, but I don't know if I believe them. For example, I spent all of forum on Thursday learning <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mVEGfH4s5g">the Single Ladies dance</a> for the talent show next week. It was supposed to be a secret, actually, but not anymore, ha ha ha.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Did you watch the dance? I hope you did, because it will now be much easier for you to picture me, a couple of girls, and two guys doing this dance on Tuesday.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now that I've left you with that mental image, I bid you adieu.</div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-26647483235566746262009-09-28T15:50:00.000-07:002009-09-28T16:47:35.239-07:00Guess who?<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's me, obviously. The privacy of my blog has not yet been compromised. The only person who gets to decide what ends up posted on the fabulous pages of <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Pseudocurses</span></i> is yours truly. Don't worry. The reason I didn't blog for a month and a half was not actually because some creeper changed my password and I couldn't figure it out for weeks, like I originally planned to tell you.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's because so much has been happening in my life. My gosh. Exciting new things are at every corner in this thrilling life I lead. I swear, every time I turn around some kind of great thing happens to me. Like, well, Commie.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am a commie now. It all happened so fast...One moment I was hiding in my room pretending summer would never end; the next, I was being jostled around on a bus heading to Community High. School buses are not comfortable. If you have a choice, don't take them.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So. Anyway. I'm back from my hiatus, here on the Internets to bring you pithy and misanthropic insights into the world of Commie. I've even changed the color of links or something to red in honor of my school. Our school colors happen to be black and white (and our mascot is the rainbow zebra! Peace and love: Fight, fight!) but that's not the point. The point is that those reds can only really be represented by one color, and it is red.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Community is a unique school in downtown Ann Arbor. It's right across the street from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kerrytown</span>, so of course everyone jaywalks across during our lunch period. Um, what else. Basic information, just in case you don't know...Community High was originally an elementary school. It has three floors and four staircases. Students are chosen by a lottery. We run on a block schedule, having half our classes each day and all our classes on Friday. An exclusive part of the Community experience is Forum, an hour-long class involving community service, friendship, and food.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I wrote that entire thing without even looking at one of the two Community websites. Go me. They're here <a href="http://www.a2community.org/community.home/home">!!!!!</a> and here <a href="http://communityhigh.org/">????</a> in case my explanation wasn't awesome enough.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let's see...this post will be full of Commie-related lists. You will enjoy them.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Fantastic Things About Commie:</b></div><div><ul><li>It's tiny. There are three floors, one hall on each floor</li><li>No dress code! Not that I would, you know, care</li><li>We can have hour-and-a-half long free blocks</li><li>It's an open campus, so we can leave school during our free blocks</li><li>The block schedule means we have two days to do homework</li><li>We get to call our teachers by their first names</li><li>It's almost impossible to get lost</li><li>It's close to No Thai, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Teriyaki</span> Time, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kerrytown</span>, and Smoothie King</li><li>Teachers just talk to you in the hallways (and call your dog <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">emo</span>)</li><li>All the teachers seem really psyched about teaching you</li><li>People let you do basically whatever you want</li><li>Peace and love: Fight, fight!</li></ul><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As you can see, Commie is pretty cool. I am so happy I go there. All of my Pi High friends tell me, "Oh, Libby! Come to Pioneer so you can catch a glimpse of me in the packed hallways! The teachers won't care about you, but it's okay: our stifling atmosphere and piles of homework will be worth any hardships!"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>To this, I say, "No." I also whine, "But I <i><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">liiiike</span></i> Commie! And Pioneer <i>scares</i> me! It's so big!"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"You won't get lost!" they assure me. "Much."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Commie is my homeland. I am not switching schools for anyone. Ever.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The commies, my comrades in scholarly pursuits, are unique and fabulous people. Every single <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">fricking</span> one of them. I am not quite commie enough to abandon the useless and somewhat rude pastime of putting people into boxes, so here is my list of the types of people I have identified at Commie.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Commies: A List:</b></div><div><ul><li>Goth/punk refugees</li><li>Scene/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">emo</span> people: like the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">gothies</span>, but more skinny jeans and plaid</li><li>Sensitive artistes</li><li>Assorted nerds, mostly male</li><li>People whose levels of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">funkitude</span> are too high for normal education</li><li>People who like the idea or the specific classes</li><li>Other people who don't broadcast their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">fabulosity</span> on their sleeves</li></ul><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And there you are. I think I fit in with the sensitive artistes, actually. I'm quite sensitive. I'm just not particularly artistic.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Oh, and one last thing that is imperative to know about Commie: Everyone wears skinny jeans. The guys wear skinny jeans. The girls wear skinny jeans. Laurel, who teaches Spanish, wears skinny jeans. Even I own a pair of skinny jeans for the sole purpose of fitting in at Commie.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As much as you can fit in at the local alternative school, anyway.</div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-49622495620563799262009-08-18T09:18:00.001-07:002009-08-19T12:57:50.170-07:00I've read a hundred books this summer.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have. No lie. And here they are, with short review-type things for your viewing pleasure. You can skip over this entire list if it bores you to tears; I don't care. Or you can read it to find out which books I shelf-pulled from the teen sections of libraries are fabulous.<div><br /></div><div><b>Libby's Summer Reading</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>1. <i>Deadline</i> by Chris Crutcher. Christ Crutcher writes books about athletes who mess with the status quo. In <i>Deadline,</i> the main character is a football player who falls in love and finds out more about the people in his town than he ever wanted to know when he is diagnosed with a terminal disease. I cried at the end. It was a deep, moving book.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. <i>Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist</i> by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn. Mother thought there were things in this book that were inappropriate for my young eyes, but it was a good book. Norah agrees to be Nick's girlfriend for five minutes, but she ends up spending a crazy night chasing him around New York. There's also a movie, but I don't want to see it because it won't be as good as the book.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. <i>Art Geeks and Prom Queens</i> by Alyson Noël. This book is about an art geek whose mother wants her to be a popular girl. She falls in with the popular crowd, but I don't think I'll spoil the ending by telling you that she ultimately goes back to the arty, geeky people.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. <i>Peaches</i> by Jodi Lynn Anderson. I read this book because I've seen other people my age reading it. It was better than I thought it would be, but I still wouldn't recommend it. Three girls from, you know, <i>different walks of life</i>, form a lifelong bond while working on a peach orchard.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. <i>Lulu Dark and the Summer of the Fox</i> by Bennet Madison. I love Lulu Dark, Halo City, and Bennet Madison. This is the sequel to <i>Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls</i>, which I must admit I liked more. I mean, how can you not love a book with lines like, "The drag queen was impressed by our classy wheels"? The books are fabulous and funny, and I think people should read them.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. <i>Rock Star Superstar</i> by Blake Nelson. A guy forms a rock group. That's sadly all I remember. The book was okay, but obviously not good enough to really stick with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>7. <i>M or F?</i> by Lisa Papademitriou and Chris Tebbets. This was a funny book about a girl who was too nervous to talk to the guy she had a crush on, so she made her gay best friend IM him. Yes, and that was the entire book. It was good, anyway, and I only picked it up because Liss checked it out from the library first.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. <i>A Step From Heaven</i> by An Na. Jaewoong spent most of seventh hour once trying to convince us that An Na is his mother. That was why I read the book. All I really learned from it is that An Na lives in Vermont and Jaewoong is a liar. The writing style was sort of choppy and annoyed me, and I can't remember the plot to save my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>9. <i>The Rules for Hearts</i> by Sara Ryan. It's the sequel to <i>Empress of the World</i>, so don't read it first. <i>The Rules for Hearts</i> starts where the first book left off, and it's a story about love, the theater, and brothers who are jerks, all with a main character named Battle Hall Davies.</div><div><br /></div><div>10. <i>The Queen of Cool</i> by Cecil Castelucci. All I remember about this book is that the main character got tired of being the most popular girl at her school. Oh, and she made friends with a girl who I think was a little person through a program at the local zoo.</div><div><br /></div><div>11. <i>Twice Told</i>. It was a short story collection, and I apparently didn't write down the editor. The idea was very interesting: illustrators would draw pictures and send the same picture to two different authors. The book was full of very different stories about the exact same picture, and it was fascinating to see how different people's minds worked.</div><div><br /></div><div>12. <i>Boy2Girl </i>by Terence Blacker. Sam arrives in England from the States, ready to escape his horrible parents and live with his cousin. Unfortunately for him, his cousin's friends are major jerks who dare him to pretend to be a girl for his first week at their school. He does, because he really wants to join their little posse, and he causes an uproar when he gets found out.</div><div><br /></div><div>13. <i>Valiant</i> by Holly Black. The main character shaves her head. She also falls in love with a troll. Yeah. It's still a good book. There's a possibility you could read it without having read <i>Tithe </i>first, because it's about completely different characters, but I think you should always start at the beginning. It's a very good place to start.</div><div><br /></div><div>14. <i>Twisted</i> by Laurie Halse Anderson. She wrote <i>Speak</i>. Her books are all a little depressing in their own special ways. This one was about a guy whose life sort of fell apart. Oh, and his father was a jerk.</div><div><br /></div><div>15. <i>Dangerous Angels: the Weetzie Bat books </i>by Francesca Lia Block. This was actually five books in one, but I read it as an anthology so I'm counting it as only one. I want to live in a Weetzie Bat book, because they're all love and magic and happy endings. Also, there are people named Witch Baby and Weetzie Bat. What's not to love?</div><div><br /></div><div>16. <i>Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls</i> by Bennet Madison. I'm not sure how this book ended up at sixteen, because I'm sure I read it first, but whatever. It's a fabulous book and I recommend it.</div><div><br /></div><div>17. <i>Switchers</i> by Kate Thompson. This book is about two teenagers who are called switchers because they switch from human form to any animal they imagine. Also, they get to save the world. It was a really interesting book, and I cried at the end, but telling you why would give away a major plot point.</div><div><br /></div><div>18. <i>La Petite Four </i>by Regina Scott. <i>La Petite Four</i> is a historical romance for young adults. It's about four girls ( La Petite Four) who have just finished their stay at finishing school and have been forced into polite society. Scary, yes? Parts of it were funny, but I didn't love it. Maybe the books the author wrote for adults are better.</div><div><br /></div><div>19. <i>Just Another Day in my Insanely Real Life </i>by Barbara Dee. My god. I have forgotten everything about this book, this nineteenth book I read. Hold on while I go and see if it has a Wikipedia page to refresh my memory. Thank you, Amazon. Okay, this book is about a girl who writes a fantasy story in her journal to escape her <i>insanely real life</i>. It was a terrible fantasy story, though. I could write a better one.</div><div><br /></div><div>20. <i>Fever 1793</i> by Laurie Halse Anderson. See, she writes depressing books. This one is about fever. Fever and dead people.</div><div><br /></div><div>21. <i>Harley Like A Person</i> by Cat Bauer. Harley doesn't know who her father is, but she's convinced it's not the man who lives with her mother and calls himself her father. The book is about her quest to find herself and get people to quit saying, "Like the motorcycle?" when they hear her name.</div><div><br /></div><div>22. <i>Treacherous Love, </i>edited by Beatrice Sparks. I picked this one up because it said <i>anonymous.</i> Dr. Beatrice Sparks, in case you didn't know, is the one who goes around making the diaries of anonymous teenagers who go through major crap into books. There's a book she edited about teen drug addiction, teen pregnancy, child molestation...not light stuff.</div><div><br /></div><div>23. <i>Catalyst</i> by Laurie Halse Anderson. By the end of this list, I was picking up books just because they were pink or labeled <i>humor</i>, because I was <i>sick</i> of all this depressing stuff. My favorite part of <i>Catalyst </i>was when the main character started to sing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFIvXVMbII0">the element song</a> to a little boy who was not having it.</div><div><br /></div><div>24. <i>Random Acts of Senseless Violence</i> by Jack Womack. With a title like that, who wouldn't be curious? ...Okay, I admit that I am bringing all the depressing books on myself. It's all my fault. Happy?</div><div><br /></div><div>25. <i>Breathing Underwater</i> by Alex Flinn. This book is about a controlling guy who hits his girlfriend. Shades of Ed Cullen, I swear. I thought that through the whole book: <i>Edward Cullen does that...Edward Cullen could use some time at this support group...Why is everyone in love with Edward Cullen?</i></div><div><br /></div><div>26. <i>The Night My Sister Went Missing</i> by Carol Plum-Ucci. The sister went missing, in case you haven't guessed. Then the brother hid in the police stadium and listened to what everyone in the small town had to say about where they were the night she was missing. He learned a lot about his neighbors, and most of it was depressing.</div><div><br /></div><div>27. <i>Green Boy</i> by Susan Cooper. I don't remember very much, other than that this was a sci-fi book about the environment and a boy who didn't talk. When I read the title in the notebook I've been using to keep track of my books, I thought it said <i>Green Day.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>28. <i>Thou Shalt Not Dump the Skater Dude</i> by Rosemary Graham. Guess what? She dumped the skater dude anyway. It was good for her in the long run, you know. The book was all right, but the funniest part was that the author put up a fake blog for the skater dude (in the book, he dumped his girlfriend through a blog post) and a bunch of people posted like they thought it was a real blog.</div><div><br /></div><div>29. <i>Evermore</i> by Alyson Noël. It's fantasy. It's about a girl who feels a strange connection to a handsome yet dangerous boy. There's even <i>blood </i>involved. But no vampires, thank god. And the chick has some useful talents like mind reading, not just the ability to trip over flat surfaces.</div><div><br /></div><div>30. <i>Wasteland</i> by Francesca Lia Block. I love Francesca Lia Block because she can write a book about something and still write about everything. She is amazing, even if her books are creepy and depressing at times. <i>Wasteland</i> isn't my favorite thing she's written, though.</div><div><br /></div><div>31. <i>Athletic Shorts</i> by Chris Crutcher.<i> Athletic Shorts</i>, get it? It's a pun. Ha ha ha. This is a collection of short stories about characters from his other books. I was able to enjoy it, even though I hadn't read half the books. The best one was about the guy who had to wrestle the fabulous girl wrestler.</div><div><br /></div><div>32. <i>Perfect</i> by Natasha Friend.<i> </i>How cool is her last name? This is an eating disorder book. The main character, Isabelle, is bulimic. She finds out that the most popular girl at her school, Ashley Barnum, is...wait for it...<i>also bulimic!</i> They throw up together. Isabelle had a weird girlcrush on Ashley, but it was a funny book and had a happy ending.</div><div><br /></div><div>33. <i>The Fold</i> by An Na. Her again! I really liked <i>The Fold. </i>It was about a Korean American girl whose aunt offered to pay for the plastic surgery that would give her a fold in her eyelids like a white girl. Before reading this book, I had no clue that it was a major issue. Apparently it is. Cosmetic surgery creeps me out a little bit, but I still liked the book.</div><div><br /></div><div>34. <i>Midnighters: Blue Noon</i> by Scott Westerfeld. As far as I know, the Midnighters series was the first thing Scott Westerfeld wrote for us young adults. It's funny and interesting, about a group of teenagers who have an extra hour of time at midnight because they were born at exactly the right time. Oh, and they have special magic powers that only manifest during their special magic time.</div><div><br /></div><div>35. <i>Hot Lunch</i> by Alex Bradley. This book was hilarious. I love it. Read it, right now. I only picked it up because there was a picture of a girl with blue hair on the cover (she didn't dye it. It just came out that way) but it was funny, in a sarcastic way, about a girl who realizes that she can't be a misanthrope forever. Oh, and she went to a hippie school. I call books about hippie schools <i>research</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>36. <i>Stormwitch </i>by Susan Vaught. I picked this one for the title. It was interesting enough, and about Amazon-like warrior women and racial tension in America forty years ago, but I didn't love it.</div><div><br /></div><div>37. <i>My Life as a Girl</i> by Elizabeth Mosier. You know, as opposed to my life as a chipmunk. A girl goes into a flashback when the cute but totally wrong for her guy she dated all summer shows up at her college across the country. I couldn't take this book seriously because of the main character's name, Jaime. It looks like <i>J'aime </i>to me, and I'm stuck pronouncing it like that in my head and wondering what she loves every few pages.</div><div><br /></div><div>38. <i>Midnighters: Touching Darkness</i> by Scott Westerfeld. Ooh, spooky. Darkness. I'm afraid to say I have nothing to say about this book. I can't even remember which number it is in the series. Also, I'm too lazy to look it up because I just had to look up number 37.</div><div><br /></div><div>39. <i>Nothing</i> by Robin Friedman. It's another eating disorder book, but it's special because it's about a bulimic guy. He's also Jewish. The book is told alternating between his point of view and his sister's. She writes in that weird verse style; he writes like a normal person.</div><div><br /></div><div>40. <i>Notes on a Near-Life Experience</i> by Olivia Birdsall<i>. </i>The main character falls in love with her older brother's best friend. This is wrong. None of the child's friends will ever be allowed to fall in love with me. Ever. And I will never take them to the prom. I loved the back of this book, which had a graph of how the characters connected to each other like <i>Kiki Nordgren, my (bulimic) nemesis.</i> My band is going to my called My Bulimic Nemesis.</div><div><br /></div><div>41. <i>Dead is a State of Mind</i> by Marlene Perez. Shockingly, this book is the sequel to the one directly below it on my list. Don't ask why it's first. The books are about crime-fighting psychic sisters. And werewolves. And vampires. Unfortunately, no zombies.</div><div><br /></div><div>42. <i>Dead is the New Black </i>by Marlene Perez. Yay, vampire books. Fortunately, no one falls in love with the vampires, who are all cheerleaders. Not as cool as zombie cheerleaders, but cool nonetheless.</div><div><br /></div><div>43. <i>Fearless</i> by Francine Pascal. This one said it was a <i>super edition</i>, which I mistakenly thought mean that it was going to be several books in one. It wasn't; it was a companion book. Fortunately, I picked up on what was going on pretty easily. The main character, Gaia, can't feel fear. She's just special that way. It's too bad she gets <i>locked up</i> because everyone else thinks she's a psycho.</div><div><br /></div><div>44. <i>Pretty Things</i> by Sara Manning. I bought this book at a used-book store in P.E.I because it had sparkles on the cover. That is how shallow I am about books and judging them by their covers. It was a good book, though; funny and British. I love British books, because where else can you find <i>grade-one wankers</i> eating <i>packets of crisps</i>?</div><div><br /></div><div>45. <i>The Forest of Hands and Teeth</i> by Carrie Ryan. Hey, it's about zombies. Also, a society with a cultish religion and <i>star-crossed lovers</i>. It was, you know, a little creepy and depressing, but so many books I read are. Oh, and New York got swarmed by zombies. Ha.</div><div><br /></div><div>46. <i>I Was A Teenage Fairy</i> by Francesca Lia Block. Yup. Fairies. Like pixies, little winged people. It's not a particularly funny book, but it is awesome. I cried. You might cry too, if you easily get attached to characters in books.</div><div><br /></div><div>47. <i>Diva</i> by Alex Flinn. Remember book number twenty-five, about the abusive boyfriend? This book is about how his girlfriend gets over him and goes on her way to becoming an opera singer. She goes to a performing arts school. Weird school: <i>research</i>. A lot of the book was blog entries. They annoyed me, because I am extremely picky about the way authors use text-speak in their books. It has to be exactly like what I see my friends writing. Otherwise, I laugh at it. Well, I laugh at it anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>48. <i>Echo </i>by Francesca Lia Block. I think if I looked at who the books I've read are by, she would come up the most. What I liked about <i>Echo </i>was the way that two characters were so in love they started to look like each other. That was awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>49. <i>Girl, 15, Charming but Insane</i> by Sue Limb. It's hilarious and British. The girl (fifteen, charming but insane) feels overshadowed by her perfect best friend, but she goes about her life anyway. I think I recommend it, even though I'm not sure what to say about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>50. <i>The Princess and the Pauper</i> by Kate Brian. The princess meets a normal girl who (major shock!) looks just like her. They trade places. Their own goshdarn parents can't tell them apart, that's how goshdarn alike they are. I didn't get the book. I don't think there was much to get.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Well, that was the First Fifty. My hands hurt from typing them out. Also, my brain hurts. I need to go eat some ice cream or something. I will probably manage to write up the, um, Final Fifty by tomorrow night.<br /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-7185449965567769662009-08-11T07:45:00.000-07:002009-08-17T11:52:04.290-07:00Prepositions are not things to end sentences with.<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';"><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';"><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>I now have trouble writing or saying sentences that end in prepositions. It just feels wrong in</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "> my head. I have to write things correctly. Is this a good or a bad thing? Discuss.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>On the other hand, I keep confusing homophones like <i>they're </i>and <i>their. </i>I feel stupid and </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">unworthy and horrible for about a second after I do it. Then I forget about it.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>The temperature recently has reached over ninety degrees. This is unacceptable weather of the kind that will not be allowed in northern Canada when I move there. My dear family was stuck in the basement all day. It was boring down there, and it was boring <i>and</i> <i>hot</i> upstairs. I was convinced that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Cassee</span> was going to get heatstroke.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Today I made some beautiful art out of Mod <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Podge</span> (well, that stuff. I don't know how to spell it), paper, duct tape, scissors with funny edges, and these awesome paintbrush/markers. Mother does not seem to appreciation my genius artwork. I can't imagine why. She just called it a <i>collage</i>, when anyone can see that it is obviously an <i>abstract composition.</i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Ah, duct tape. It is useful for so many things, such as fixing ducts, holding together the fracturing bits of a failing relationship, and making clothing. Many people make prom dresses out of duct tape. I think this is mainly because of the <i>Stuck at Prom</i> contest that offers three thousand dollars worth of scholarship money to the winners, as well as money to the school that held the prom.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Look at the winners. Their dresses and tuxes are crazily elaborate. I don't even want to think about how long it took to make those. Or how much duct tape.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><a href="http://www.stuckatprom.com/contests/prom/media.asp">Tape.</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Today, I will finish my hundredth book this summer. This is a frightening thought, and I don't know why. I've read thousands of books in my life, have never known which one was 500<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> or 666<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">th</span> or 729<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span>, and have never cared. But now that I'm counting, it means something. I have a <i>goal.</i> I am working toward it. I have a record of ninety-six books I've read, and I can look back at them and remember.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Mother says I should keep writing down what I read after I hit a hundred. I've never done that before. I don't think I have the ability to keep track of these things. I always had to write up my stupid practice logs for band the morning they were due because I didn't write down when I practiced. Oh well. At least I actually <i>told the truth </i>about when I practiced, unlike <i>some people.</i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Speaking of band, I quit. Spiffy is calling me a quitter now. So is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Liss</span>, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Liss</span> just likes to call me things to annoy me. She spent the entire weekend calling me either <i>Little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Libsies</span></i> or <i>crotchety old woman.</i><br /></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">We had a thrilling Girl Scout weekend, probably our last one ever. One of our members is thinking about giving up Girl Scouts. In most troops, I think that would be okay, but when you only have four members, a quarter of your troop leaving is a lot. Also, we don't do many things that you have to be a Girl Scout to do, like earning badges or going to Girl Scout camps. We just sort of meet and gossip and sell cookies outside Scrapbook Haven.</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Not that I don't love my troop. I do. I love them more than I love nail polish and Gmail combined. Who else sings new lyrics to "You Belong With Me" in A&W or plays Apples to Apples in the car with <i>Lego Building Blocks</i> winning <i>Chewy</i> and <i>Learning Spanish </i>for <i>Sticky</i>? No one I know.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, we went on holiday up North. The drive was five hours of insane Apples to Apples and general craziness. I managed to spill several different food items on myself. Zoe's Aunt Franny kindly allowed us to stay in her boathouse, which was a shack by the water decorated with baskets, plastic furniture, and a bunch of little statues and things, which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Liss</span> named. The best part was a loft with a lot of old trunks and a vacuum on it.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We tried to catch fish in Crystal Lake for ages, but it didn't work too well because we were afraid to get <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">swimmer's</span> itch from the water. Finally, Anna got tired of that and sat down in the water to catch a fish. We also went swimming in Lake Michigan. On one side of a giant pier, the water was the color of puke. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Liss</span> has some other, ruder names for it. On the other side, it was clear and nice. We swam on both sides, and there was absolutely no difference.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>What else did we do? That was about it. I read <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Liss's</span> depressing book (<i>Catching Fire</i>, Suzanne Collins, #95. It's not actually out yet, but she had an ARC) and played <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">mancala</span> in rounds for at least an hour. Everyone called me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">OCD</span> because I rearranged the pieces so they were with other pieces of the same color. Then they all started arranging them like that. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">OCD</span> is not contagious, you know.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The weekend was really fab and stuff, but I have realized something shocking. Or, well, really not so shocking. This epiphany came to me while I was floating down a river on a tube, holding onto <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Liss's</span> tube so she didn't float away from me.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don't think I'll ever be the kind of person who can spend a lot of time around other people and not lock myself in my room for a while afterwards. I mean, that's a little bit exaggerated, but private people such as myself have trouble living in a shack with six other people who aren't related to me for long. I know some of you would have trouble with it, dear readers. Admit it. You're not all bubbly, cheerful, extroverted types.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That's all I have to say. My next post, whenever it may appear, will be at least partly about my feelings toward my hundredth book. It might even include my hundred book list if I don't get lazy about typing it.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have to go move on with my exciting life now by going to the dentist and giving up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Remi</span> to the child.<br /></div></div></span></div></span>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-57082391677375108502009-08-06T13:32:00.000-07:002009-08-06T14:10:54.560-07:00Good Lord.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am trying to say "Good Lord!" more often. In my head, it makes me sound like a crotchety old grandma who crochets lace doilies and is always "losing" her glasses and people have to point out that she's wearing them. I don't know what it sounds like outside my head, because I've never had the chance to go there.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The only one of my Summer Goals (the capital letters make them sound more impressive) that I seem to be anywhere near completing is my book list. I plan to read a hundred books I've never read this summer, excluding graphic novels of any kind. As of this post, I am maybe a fifth of the way through book #79, <i>Shift.</i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have a stately goal, so I thought I would share its fruits with you, dear elocutionists. I am considering exhibiting each of the tomes on this blog. I'm going to transcribe the register anyway, but there is a likelihood that I will also interline an epitomized compendium of each work for your viewing pleasure.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>By the way, I found a thesaurus on the table next to me and used it to spice up the above paragraph. That would be why half of the words are probably used wrong. It took me a long time to write because I had to keep checking the thesaurus for every other word. This is why that one person said, "If you need to look the word up, it's the wrong word." Or something to that effect.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Here's the shorter (more succinct) version of what I just said, in correct (or accurate) English, without any interesting (engrossing!) words (utterances).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm going to write up my list of books on this blog no matter what, but Liss told me I should write sarcastic book reviews, so I'm considering writing a short review of all the books I can remember. Some of them I read months ago, which is too long for me to remember when I've read fifty books since then. You won't get a very good review of those. But I remember some of the books like I read them yesterday. In fact, I read three yesterday.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Tell me: is this a good idea? It would fill up the post a lot more than just listing books. That would make me feel more accomplished, and I wouldn't have to scribble some lazy paragraphs about <i>I'm bored and hungry and I don't know what to write so I'll just whinge about my boring hunger. </i>When I write long posts, I feel better. Also, my favorite complainers are happy because I've actually written.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Did you know <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com">dictionary.com</a> Tweets? By Jove, I certainly didn't. This is yet another reason to get a Twitter. Unfortunately, I have some very strong reasons against getting a Twitter. See:<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Pros:</b></div><div><ul><li>The webpage has a drawing of a little birdie on it</li><li>People I know have Twitter accounts</li><li>My favorite YA authors have Twitter accounts</li></ul><br /></div><div><b>Cons:</b></div><div><ul><li>I never update my blog or my Facebook status, so why would I update my Twitter?</li><li>Twitter is verbing words like MySpace and Facebook verbed "friend"</li><li>The character limit would block my creative expression, which is hard to summon up and easily blocked</li><li>It's ruining the English language, just like Facebook, texting, and Miley Cyrus</li></ul><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Wow, making lists really does help solve problems. And here I thought it was stupid back in elementary school when they made us write lists. I have more cons than pros. That means getting a Twitter is a <i>very bad idea.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And my Twitter username was going to be <i>pseudocurses</i>, too. If you are reading this and you have a Twitter, please help a young girl in need. Look up the name <i>pseudocurses</i> and see if some usurping youth has snatched it before I can. Thank you. Infidel.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I keep seeing people on Facebook who write <i>5 things i can grab from where im sitting</i>, as if we really want to know what they keep in their filthy pigsties. Guess what? Just for you, I'm going to write five things I could grab from where I'm sitting, if I wasn't worried that I'd get all kinds of diseases just from touching them.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>5 tings lolol!!</b></div><div><ul><li><i>Roget's College Thesaurus in Dictionary Form</i></li><li>Book #79, <i>Shift</i></li><li><i>Holy Bible; the New Revised Standard Edition</i></li><li>Robby's nasty bread crusts from lunch</li><li>a French-English dictionary</li></ul><div>There, wasn't that enlightening?</div></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-41762770146272818082009-07-26T13:10:00.002-07:002009-08-01T11:21:28.289-07:00I haven't posted in a month.<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Everyone must have gotten really bored coming to my blog every day and seeing only the tired old post from a month ago. You might even have become so bored that you gave up on me and started reading a blog that updates on a decent schedule. I don't blame you. Really, I don't. I get bored when people don't update as often as I think they should. This is a real case of the pot calling the kettle black.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Many things happened since I last posted, the most important of which was my family's trip to Canada.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We went to Canada because we are all majorly obsessed with Canada. In fact, we consider ourselves honorary Canadians. However, we didn't go to the normal parts of Canada that tourists usually go to. No. We went and drove up to Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and even Newfoundland. Well, Newfoundland is an island, but we drove onto a ferry that took us over to the foggy, salty shores of Newfoundland.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The vacation took up a significant portion of my life, but I can't think of anything to say about it. I'm sorry.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Moving on.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br /></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Today, my dear friend Anna took me to the 4-H Youth Fair, where she was showing her </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">rabbit. I forget its name. It bit her and Patricia, but she assured us that it is usually a placid and </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">good-natured creature.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At the 4-H Youth Fair (or just Fair, as Anna called it), I experienced a strange feeling. It was </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">really strange because I go to the Chelsea Fair almost every year, and I go to the other cousin's </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">(TOC) horse things. I even went to an odd horse thing where they sold horse equipment with </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">crosses on it.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I felt really out of place at the horse thing. I am not going to buy any kind of horse </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">equipment or shiny glass objects. I did make the cousin buy me a sign that says "Unattended </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">Children Will Be Sold To Gypsies," and it now decorates my door, so I suppose something good </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">came out of it.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The point is not the charming sign, though. The point is that everyone else was a horse </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">person, and I am not a horse person. I don't want to be a horse person. Horses are large and sort </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">of scary, when you think about it. Also, it creeps me out the way they have large bodies and thin </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">legs that really don't look like they should be able to support them.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At the Fair, I was absolutely charmed by everything. Why, I could almost have renounced </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">my city-slicker life on the spot and gone to live on a farm with chickens. Well, not really, but I </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">was charmed. There were kids the child's age just carrying around chickens like it was perfectly </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">normal. <i>Yep, here I am, carrying my chicken. La di da, nothing to see here. It's just me and my </i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><i>chicken.</i> Or is that <i>my chicken and I</i>? Anyway, it was cute. There were kids my age cuddling </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">with geese like they were cats, wearing rubber boots and standing in stalls, and leading cows off </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">to be washed up. It made me wish I could have that kind of farm-animal relationship. I am </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">probably never actually going to have a farm and the only animals I am likely to own will be </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">smaller than breadboxes, but for a little while there I wished I could be leading my cow into her </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">stall.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So that was the fair. That was then; this is now.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>From downstairs, I can hear the lovely sound of things smashing from the TV, accompanied </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">by the screams of "DIE!" and "Go Slytherin!" from the child and his friend. They are vicious </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">children who should never be allowed to play the Half-Blood Prince video game. I watched them </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">play it for a while, but it was sort of boring to watch and the animation was terrible. Luna's hair </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">stuck straight out to the side when she tilted her head, and ol' Harry has the exact same stupid </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">expression no matter what. <i>Nintendo Power </i>gave it a horrible rating, with which I agree.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My new word is <i>copacetic</i>, which I try to include in as much of what I say as possible ever </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">since Mother said it a few days ago and I looked it up in my dictionary to see what it meant.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm having trouble thinking of things to say. I am only blogging right now because Liss has </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">taken over for Audrey on the <i>yell at Libby until she blogs</i> front. Currently, we are having a </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">fascinating conversation over gmail about my unique typing habits. I am a horrible typist. Really. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">I do not type with my fingers on asdfjkl; like one is supposed to. I sort of "hunt and peck," but </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">with my middle fingers. I do use my thumbs for the space bar, exactly like I was taught all those </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">years ago.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This blog post is not working out very well. I can't think of what to write and the formatting </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">is messed up, so it might not even show up. Oh well. Love you, infidels, but don't think that just </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">because I post again doesn't mean I'm coming out of hiding. </span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-37873081137663211962009-06-07T08:34:00.001-07:002009-06-24T18:52:57.433-07:00The 2008-2009 school year is now over.<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let us all have a moment of silence for it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>No talking. That means you.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Okay, that was fun.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> I wish I had a real excuse for not posting at all for weeks, but I don't. I could say that now that the summer is upon us, I am so busy with summery things that I forget to post, but it would be a lie. I could also say that nothing exciting happens in the summer and I've been running out of things to blog about. That would be closer to the truth.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>To make up for this, I am treating you to the inner workings of my brain, circa 2002.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Back when I was a little girl, the main thing I daydreamed about was myself. Except it wasn't exactly me. It was me as a twenty-ish person with a superhero team.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It was sort of like superheroes, but as far as I can remember, we didn't have any specific superpowers. We were just fabulous. We did have uniforms: black pants and solid-color shirts with the first letters of our names on them. I was such an original child.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let's see: I was in it, obviously. My name was Libby. I always referred to myself as Libby. "Libby will attack the enemy." "Libby will smile." "Libby will wash the dishes." There was also my best friend; at that point, probably Claudia. Claudia got to wear a pink shirt with a giant C on it. See, aren't you happy I never told you this before? There were also three other friends of lesser importance who stood around in the background. I don't even remember who they were.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Libby's shirt was purple. She had pink streaks in her hair. Her blood was gold, which was cool back then and really creepy now. Gold blood. Was I some kind of alien? I think Claudia had silver blood.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We all lived in my awesome secret hideout. It was seven floors of underground awesomeness, accessible only through a tree stump. Yes, a tree stump. You just flipped the top off and, lo and behold, a circular slide appeared to take you into the secret hideout. The slide was full of doors. There was a wooden door, a steel door, a titanium door, several magic doors, a fire-resistant door, a water-resistant door, an electricity-resistant door, and many others. Of course, they only opened for me or anyone else who was with me.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I had a floor all to myself. All of my random friends had floors. The top floor was for everyone. It was like a giant rec room or something.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The backyard was probably the best part, and it's hard to have a best part in an <i>awesome secret hideout</i> as <i>awesome</i> as mine was. Because it was underground, the backyard was a room with grass in it. The really fab thing about it was that you could walk through the walls. On the left wall was a picture of a farm, complete with a red barn and golden wheat waving in the wind. Straight ahead was a forest. To the right was a blank white wall. When you walked through it, you could draw whatever you wanted and have it come to life, like <i>Harold and the Purple Crayon.</i> Unfortunately, everyone was only allowed to use their color. If you walked through the corners, you ended up in some nasty swamp.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Okay. My secret hideout was awesome. I had a group of fabulous sidekicks. There was only one thing missing in my fantasy life: a dude. The dude was an interchangeable blond-haired blue-eyed guy from my class. There were several of them over the years, but they always had blond hair and blue eyes. I think we've already covered this on the blog, so I'm moving on before anyone calls me a Nazi again.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I always rescued my dude. He never got to rescue me. That was how it worked. I always rescued myself, so I'm not actually sure what purpose the sidekicks had. They were just superfluous people who stood behind me and wore bright colors. Sorry, guys.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There was one main way I rescued my dude. I would run over this story in my head some nights while I was trying to get to sleep. I still do that, except now it's not me; it's people with funny names and magical powers who only exist inside my head. Anyway, it started the same way every time. My dude (Liss says to call him Kiki) would be wandering in the snow, cold and alone. He would just randomly happen to be right next to my tree stump, and I would just randomly happen to notice him practically dying of hypothermia on my doorstep. Of course I had to take poor Kiki in and save him. What else could I do? He got to spend lots of lovely time in the infirmary, which had cots enclosed in stalls like in public restrooms.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After Kiki was healthy again, he ended up being a superfluous sidekick. His color was blue, I think, and he had silver blood. I guess he was an alien too.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We had tons of fun running around saving things, or at least I did. And that was some deep insight into my childhood mind. I'm done now.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am sorry that this probably has a date from long ago tacked to it. I really wrote it on June 24, 2009. I am also sorry that the formatting is probably messed up. I tried for a few seconds to fix it, but then I gave up. That's the kind of dedication that let me not post for three weeks.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Did you miss me, infidels?<br /></span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-30229056939396784122009-05-31T14:01:00.000-07:002009-05-31T17:57:29.521-07:00I have trouble thinking up titles, so live with this.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have done many things since I last posted. In fact, I have probably become a better person and stuff. This kind of stuff happens when you least expect it. One night, you're you, and then you wake up the next morning and realize that you've become a better person overnight.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This is a partial list of what I did between my last post and this post.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">In A Partial Week Of My Fine Life, I:</span></div><div><ul><li>Slept</li><li>Watched Pokemon</li><li>Listened to the child talk about Pokemon</li><li>Played Pokemon</li><li>Played <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Super Princess Peach</span></li><li>Read many things, including but not limited to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Bad Kitty</span>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Lulu Dark Can See Though Walls, </span><a href="http://scottwesterfeld.com/blog/">Scott <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Westerfeld's</span> blog</a>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Schwa Was Here</span>, and the latest issue of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Nintendo Power</span></li><li>Kicked the child off the computer</li><li>Got kicked off the computer by the child</li><li>Scribbled</li><li>Scrawled</li><li>Jotted</li><li>Read a dictionary</li><li>Saw the cousin</li><li>Stared at the cousin's shoes</li><li>Stared at the cousin's hair</li><li>Stared at the cousin in general</li><li>Saw my troop</li><li>Was annoyed by how quiet the little Brownies were, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">conveniently</span> forgetting that I was that quiet in third grade</li><li>Was gloated at by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Liss</span></li><li>Threatened to beat <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Liss</span> up if she didn't lend me her ARC of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Leviathan</span></li><li>Went to school</li><li>Was bored at school</li><li>Was supposed to play the clarinet in band</li><li>Didn't play the clarinet in band</li><li>Had a bad day</li><li>Made sarcastic comments</li><li>Giggled</li><li>Picked up the cat</li><li>Jumped on the trampoline in a swimsuit while the child sprayed me with a hose</li><li>Sprayed the child with a hose while he jumped on the trampoline</li><li>Wrote this list</li></ul><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Okay, the end. Wasn't that thrilling? I was just about thrilled to death while I wrote it, but I kept being distracted by the child's Pokemon in the background. There are lots of fight noises and "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">PIII</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">KA</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">CHUU</span>!"'s and someone keeps laughing coldly in a monotone and saying, "Pokemon are not friends. You will never defeat me, Ash <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ketchum</span>." And, oh no, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Pikachu</span> just fell out of the sky into a pool of water! What will we do now? And oh my gosh, Ash just got attacked by a lot of roots.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Only-vaguely-paying-attention-to-Pokemon is much more fun than actually-watching-Pokemon. Unless Team Rocket shows up. I love Team Rocket. They, along with Captain America, are my homeboys. Team Rocket doesn't have a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Wikipedia</span> page of its own, which is just horrible, but here are the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Wikipedia</span> pages for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_america">Captain America</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pok%C3%A9mon_crime_syndicates#Team_Rocket">Pokemon crime syndicates</a>. While I'm putting up links for useful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Wikipeda</span> pages, here is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asian_people">wikipedia.org/Asian_People</a>.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm not sure what to write about today. I can make long lists and type up links to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Wikipedia</span>, but real writing is beyond me at this point. "What point?" you may ask. Well, the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">POINT OF NO RETURN</span>, dear readers. See, I put that in capital letters <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">and</span> italics, to show how hyper-important it is. Michele <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Jaffe</span>, who wrote <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Bad Kitty</span> and I think some other stuff for the older audience, says <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">iper</span>-cool</span>, which is like<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">uber</span>-cool,</span> which is like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">hyper-cool. </span>Anyway, back to the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">POINT OF NO RETURN</span>. It is a point that can only be reached once in a multi-colored moon, and no one would like it very much if it wasn't so awesome and obnoxiously capitalized.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So I had this awesome dream that I was wearing a tie, leggings, my fab rain boots, and a black dress with a giant zipper up the front, much like the black robes Organization XIII from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Kingdom Hearts</span> wear. It was great. I bet you all wish you could have fabulous dreams like me.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>(Interval of who knows how many hours.)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Yes, I left this blog for hours and then came back to write on it. This is because I have a strange feeling that I should try to finish something for once in my life. I am now sitting here while my family watches hockey, wearing a purple plastic tiara that's too small for me, and reading a book that Meg Cabot woman wrote. Well, I was reading it. I had to stop now that I'm writing this.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have other things to do now, like study for my math exam and fill out important papers for Commie. I also have something for English due eventually, but it's just a list of books I've read and I don't know when I'll be expected to turn it in. Oh, and there's a French final on Wednesday, but I've decided to be cocky about that and only study the night before. Don't tell Madame.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My nail polish, which matches my plastic tiara, is coming off. I only put it on last night. Or two nights ago. The time blurs together in my mind, it really does.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I saw this fabulous surgical mask today, for protecting oneself against the swine flu.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don't have anything else to write about. Here, you may have the first sentence I read when I pick up my book:<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Scott was still just...Scott</span>.<br /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-91618031908295898282009-05-22T13:47:00.000-07:002009-05-22T14:45:48.874-07:00Haiku.haiku: poetry<div>from Japan, that weird island</div><div>where they eat sushi</div><div><br /></div><div>haiku start and end</div><div>with five syllables; seven</div><div>are in the middle</div><div><br /></div><div>they are supposed to</div><div>make sense and show tranquility</div><div>in nature. mine don't</div><div><br /></div><div>nonetheless, i write</div><div>this post in only haiku</div><div>to express myself</div><div><br /></div><div>if you don't like it</div><div>i don't care. get over it.</div><div>kiss my fricking grits.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cassee is prowling</div><div>staring at trampoline foam</div><div>she eats it sometimes</div><div><br /></div><div>the child is outside</div><div>jumping on the trampoline</div><div>maybe he'll eat it</div><div><br /></div><div>Mother is there too</div><div>on the porch, reading something</div><div>i am sitting here</div><div><br /></div><div>my bones will decay</div><div>from a lack of exercise</div><div>eventually</div><div><br /></div><div>it can't be too soon</div><div>i must finish my haiku</div><div>haikus? whatever</div><div><br /></div><div>wikipedia</div><div>says haiku can be about</div><div>overt violence now</div><div><br /></div><div>unfortunately,</div><div>it doesn't mention plurals</div><div>where is what i need?</div><div><br /></div><div>i will write about</div><div>nature because nature is</div><div>an important theme</div><div><br /></div><div>the birds are chirping</div><div>they are getting on my nerves</div><div>shut up, little birds</div><div><br /></div><div>the grass is so green</div><div>i might have a heart attack</div><div>because it's so bright</div><div><br /></div><div>writing about this</div><div>is hard from through the window</div><div>but i will go on</div><div><br /></div><div>see my willpower?</div><div>i have strength and fortitude</div><div>i am determined</div><div><br /></div><div>i used to love these</div><div>i always wrote them in class</div><div>it was 'cause they're short</div><div><br /></div><div>i hated writing</div><div>but now i really love it</div><div>funny how that works</div><div><br /></div><div>at least these things don't</div><div>rhyme. i can hardly rhyme at all</div><div>it is not my thing</div><div><br /></div><div>the cat is under</div><div>father's foot. he stepped on her</div><div>she was not happy</div><div><br /></div><div>the cat is funny</div><div>she makes weird noises, not meows</div><div>Mom says she burbles</div><div><br /></div><div>i've written too many</div><div>haiku for my little brain</div><div>to handle right now</div><div><br /></div><div>i need to finish</div><div>otherwise, my brain will melt</div><div>but i need one more</div><div><br /></div><div>this will be so great</div><div>all who read it will be shocked</div><div>by how cool i am</div><div><br /></div><div>blue potato cat</div><div>fishy ceiling haiku no</div><div>see Basho's frog leap</div><div><br /></div><div>this was fricking hard</div><div>i really hate haikus now</div><div>they totally suck</div><div><br /></div><div>see if i ever</div><div>do something literary</div><div>for you guys again</div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-19874315542100078062009-05-13T17:41:00.000-07:002009-05-21T11:26:29.068-07:00My first post in, like, a long time.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I haven't been posting. I'm sorry. I'm posting now. Are you happy?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br /></span></div> </span>All people should own a trampoline. I am not talking about those little meter-wide pathetic excuses for trampolines here. I'm talking about real trampolines, the kind that you have to put in the yard because they're way too big to fit in a house. Mini-trampolines are for wimps. Yes, I know I'm a wimp, but calling everyone else a wimp makes me feel less wimpy.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Trampolines are not just for usage the way they're intended. I know all the people who manufacture trampolines would be annoyed if they saw me mocking the rules that come attached to trampolines, but they shouldn't take it personally. I mock a lot of things. And it's hard not to mock rules like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">stay in the same position as you jump</span> and<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> look at your feet while jumping</span>. I mean, do they expect people to jump up and down in straight lines? We'd look like idiots, not that the way we usually jump is less idiotic.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I should really write about the things that have been happening in my life, et cetera, but I don't feel like it. The end of the school year is quickly approaching on winged feet, like that god guy Mercury. Wasn't he the one with wings on his feet? I think things should approach on winged wings, but I didn't make up mythology. I wasn't alive back then.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Everyone can feel the awesome end-of-year vibe, especially the eighth graders. We were never really paying attention to anyone, anyway, and now we feel like we have an excuse: in just ten short days, we are out of this place forever. I think that means that we need to listen more, in case our teachers have any last-minute wisdom to impart on us, but try explaining that to a bunch of thirteen-year-olds who just want to go home. It's like nailing Jell-O to a wall, not that I have ever tried...I have tried explaining things to bored thirteen-year-olds. It doesn't work.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In French class, Madame spent almost an entire hour detailing to us how the rest of the year is going to go down and passing out violently neon sheets of paper. I have a syllabus with me, actually. She called it that, not me. Let's see: it's bright yellow and written in a weird mix of French and English. The important stuff, like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">NO SCHOOL </span>and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">FOREIGN LANGUAGE OLYMPICS</span> are written in English. And caps lock. The boring, useless stuff, like all the homework, is written in French.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My band teachers also told us about the imminent end of our middle school careers. None of my other teachers have even mentioned it, though. I think this is part of a plan to not acknowledge that it will soon be over in the hope that we don't know it'll be over. Everyone knows, though. We have countdowns in our planners. I even tried to figure out exactly how many hours, minutes, and seconds we had left during English, but I did the math wrong somehow and gave up.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Speaking of my planner, I have many things I heard during my days just waiting to be put on this blog. I write things down. When school is over, I will carry around my little green notebook and take notes while people talk to me. It won't be creepy at all.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hamlet is a player."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"You're such a fruit! I'm going to call you 'grapefruit.' Or...'lemon twist!'"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don't know why I wrote this, but "may result in severe closed-head injuries."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I am obviously not cut out to be an actress."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Someone mentioned allergies in class, so:<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I have allergies!"<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I do too!"<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I have ADD!"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In French class, Madame gave everyone a word, which they had to stand up and say in front of the class. One person, I don't remember who, didn't say anything when it was her turn.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"What's your word?"<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She didn't answer.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"It's 'bacon,' isn't it?"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Also in French class (have I mentioned that French is my most exciting class of the day? Everything is better in French), we had to compose some sentences. In French. This was because Madame wanted to show us how much French we really knew. My sentence was pretty much the most amazing sentence ever: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Elle lit un livre parce qu'elle aime lire. She reads a book because she likes to read. </span>Madame said something like, "Oh, isn't this a wonderful sentence?" Everyone booed me. I was offended.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The same day, someone else wrote a sentence that translates to: His selfish chicken hates the airport. I think "Selfish Chicken" would make a great band name. I think everything would make a great band name.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"It's not 'Knowledge Master's!' It's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">not possessive!</span>"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Could Hamlet be done in a space station?"<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Heck yes.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"You could have everyone in Hamlet dress up as dinosaurs and call it 'Dinosaurs!'"<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Speaking of Hamlet, Claudia and I spoke of it a lot in part two of her interview, which we finally got around to completing (read: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I </span>finally got around to completing) last night. This time, you'll get to see it in the way we actually spoke to each other over Facebook, as opposed to the way I messed with it to make it seem more grammatically correct and easy to read.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Claudia, Part Two (which I was too lazy to change the font of):<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; "><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: I am interviewing Claudia for the second time. How long was it between these?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">He</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">r</span>: A couple weeks I think. has the interview begun?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">ok</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">throw dem questions at me</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: What is your favorite color? I missed that question on your quiz.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: purple/violet</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">my favorite shade depends on my mood<br />lilac if i feel girly<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">dark dark violet if im depressed<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: You don't just have one favorite color?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: oh no<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">when am i ever consistent?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">i mean, really</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> True. That's fabulous.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: i cant stick with one</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">just not possibel</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">*possible</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Are you reading anything right now?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: at the moment i dont have anything to read because i am waiting to go to the library<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">next?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: This is because of what the Sherm is making us do: do you like Hamlet?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: the character or the movie?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>I was thinking, like, the play. I'm sure you have opinions on the movie, too.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: oh yes i have opinions on the movie</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">it was so creepy in that scene</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">it looked like he was about to rape his own mother<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">did you see that?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: The whole thing was creepy, but that part was the worst.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: i was looking around at the class and everyone looked really freaked out<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">well except for a few people<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> It was freaky.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her: </span>yeah</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">and remember that part where ophelia was touching that guy in the armor?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Yes. That was bad too.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: Mike said something nasty when his class watched it.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">it looked like she was touching his.....</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">you know</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">and of course the guy in the armor looked freaked<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Yes. It was just really weird. And nasty.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">like the rest of us<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">he was scared<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">i hate that movie!!!!!!!!!<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>I would have been scared.</p><div></div><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">Bring a book to class like Rennie.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: i have a new name for the sherm<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">the shermanator</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">rhythms with terminator</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">the shermanator</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Yes.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: yeah<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: The problem with that is that it's weird to spell.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: next question?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Food.</p><div></div><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">Do you have a favorite food?</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: it changes on a day to day basis, like my sense of reality and sanity<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: Is that healthy?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: im not sure</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">but i cant do anything about it</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me</span>: What did you eat tonight? Did you eat tonight? I'm asking about food because I'm hungry.<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her</span>: i ate... ummmm...</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">i cant remeber</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">*remember</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">oh wait</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">. <span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">i ate a caesar salad</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">yeah</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">thats what i had<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Exciting.</p><div></div><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">I actually have to leave now to eat food and do various other things.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "></span></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her: </span>yeah</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">ok</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">will my interview be on by tonight?<br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Probably not, sorry. I'll hopefully work up the energy to post tomorrow.</p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><br /></p><p style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; ">And look at this! I did post today! I amaze myself. However, it was not because I worked up the energy. It was because I stayed home diseased today and had nothing better to do. No one should say <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">stayed home sick. Stayed home sick</span> is not as awesome as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">stayed home diseased</span>. My diseased caused me to lose sleep by waking up and wanting to vomit, feel not hungry, and feed tomato soup to the cat. She ate it, too. I have sat around all day sleeping and talking to Liss, my little diseased friend.</span><br /></p></span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-80992682417709600452009-05-06T16:07:00.000-07:002009-05-08T20:19:12.827-07:00Broadcasting live from my room.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My room, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ma <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">chambre</span>, </span>or however else you want to put it in any other language you know (I only know two) is obviously the best place to hide in the event that multiple future former fifth graders attack my house. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Future former fifth graders</span>, by the way, is a term that I took and modified from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Freak Show</span>. I like to call them that not because I'm bitter about them but because I love the alliteration. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Future former fifth graders. </span>It really rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The child has two friends over for his birthday, which was yesterday. They are downstairs beating each other up with Nerf guns. Have I mentioned my opinion on Nerf guns? Nerf guns suck. They are not toys; they're weapons. Look at one. The child has a Nerf gun that shoots rounds of bullets. You can load ten or fifteen in at once. That thing scares me. Forget violent video games: Nerf guns are exposing our nation's children to violence.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br /></span></div> </span>A few days ago, I experienced the joy of the lovely Commie counselors coming to visit me. Yes, me personally. The man's name is John. He reminds me of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Strite</span>, and I don't know exactly why. It must be the way he calls people <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">dude</span> or his weird mustache. I forgot the woman's name. You would think this would be important to me, given that she'll be one of my counselors for the next four years, but I forgot anyway.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Commie-counseling was fun. We got to skip The Sherm's class, which was a bonus, and I hung around with Eva Hattie, Lauren, Spiffy, and Patricia. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Liss</span> was there, but she hid in a corner and didn't talk to me much. My classes will go something like this: geometry, Intro to Lit (it's required. I want to take Journalism, Women's Lit, and a grammar-type class where I can learn to diagram sentences. I'm really looking forward to English classes!), <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">FOS</span> 1 (also required; it's the weird Commie science program), World <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Civ</span> & Economics (mandatory), French 2, and band over at Pi High. It's a full schedule which involves many classes I was forced into taking and shuttle-bus-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ing</span> myself to and from Pioneer several times a day.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The main thing about Commie schedules that's different from Pi High is forum. Or is it Forum, with a capital F? I don't know. Let's call it forum. Forum is, I gather, like a more fabulous version of homeroom. Instead of sitting around <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">boredly</span> waiting for your next class, you sit around eating...or cooking...or talking about deep and profound things...or running around playing Frisbee. Also, you go on trips on Forum Day.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There are multiple forum leaders, who are pretty much teachers who also have forums. We are encouraged to pick the forum leader who is right for us. For example, if you are a strong and manly athlete who is only here to, say, lick feet, you might not want to pick the man John described as "a geeky nerdy Shakespeare Star Wars geek nerd." On the other end, if you think that description sounds like the teacher you want to have around for the rest of your high school career, you might not want to pick a forum with an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">athletic focus</span>.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>By the way, I did not come up with the feet-licking thing. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Liss</span> did. If you thought it was nasty, go bite her head off.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I went through the list with these guidelines.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Bad:</span></div><div><ul><li>eccentric</li><li>athletic</li><li>fully actualized</li></ul><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Good:</span></div><div><ul><li>English teacher</li><li>unorganized</li><li>food</li></ul><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I ended up picking a woman whose first name was Tracy. I think. I completely forgot. This is an important decision that will matter to me for the next few years, and I forget what I decided. Oh well. I can always switch out if our viewpoints don't connect. Did anyone actually say that? Dear readers, some of you were there. Please tell me what they said.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last night was our OH MY GOSH OH-SO-EMOTIONAL LAST CONCERT AT <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">SLAUSON</span> EXCLAMATION POINT. Yes, it was quite emotional. That was why I used caps lock. Before I report on it (just the facts, infidels; just the facts) I must bring to your attention a great injustice to band geeks, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">orch</span> dorks, and choir freaks. On the announcements this morning, they did their usual play-by-play of the sports teams' accomplishments.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"So-and-so scored <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Slauson's</span> only five points, so we lost the basketball game 30-5! Go so-and-so! What's-his-name, what's-his-face, and that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">blonde</span> kid did a really great job defending our hoop, and the rest of the team was pretty fab too!"</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Good for them, I say. It's very nice getting your name read out over the announcements, and everything. I'm just bitter that they didn't even mention that we had a concert. I mean, the baseball team plays at least every other week. We have, what, four concerts a year? Less? A little acknowledgement would be nice.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last concert. I wasn't as sad as I thought I'd be. I was having too much fun to be sad. It was an awesome concert, like a party or something. I stayed to watch the orchestra and choir perform too, but I'm getting ahead of myself.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We had three lovely pieces: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Amparito</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Roca</span>, A Song of Hope, </span>and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Red Line Express</span>, a jazz piece composed by us. Before you think we're amazing composer types, I must set you straight. It was about three different jazz riffs layered on top of each other. There were also chord changes involved, but our teacher wrote up the entire thing for us.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Amparito</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Roca</span> </span>is this fantastic piece that everyone can't help humming everywhere. It's pretty fast for us, with a lot of nasty sixteenth notes, but it's fun to play. I didn't do very well, mainly because I don't practice...but I played all the important parts. Sort of.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Red Line Express</span> is fairly boring, but I really enjoyed playing it just because I managed to play at the exact same time as the person next to me. There's something really awesome about being in a group and knowing you're doing the same thing as someone else. It's like dancing (except the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">macarena</span>. I refuse to do that dance the right way).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A Song of Hope</span> is a really depressing song, in my opinion, but it was cool. It sounds good and stuff. I don't have much to say about it.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After we were done, we wandered over to the doors and stared <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">stalkerishly</span> at the choir as they sang. You have seen nothing until you have seen fifty or so eighth graders in black and white spilling through doors into an auditorium. The guys had this awesome song, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Poison Ivy</span>, with the funniest choreography I have ever seen. There was a clap-slap move (I made Sam teach me; clap-right-left-clap-right) and this thing where they did a punch-the-air kind of deal and went "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">HUNH</span>!" like karate people. All the choir girls in the crowd with me knew the song and choreography, so they sang and danced along.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Orchestra played a very long song, a shorter song that was as hopeful as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A Song of Hope</span>, and the James Bond theme song. I can't say much about them. I think I was giggling in my seat half the time and futzing with my glasses the other half. What can I say? I have no excuse. I love band more than I love orchestra.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I used to want to be <a href="http://www.jkrowling.com/">this woman</a> when I grew up, but now I'm considering being <a href="http://maureenjohnson.blogspot.com/">this woman</a> or possibly <a href="http://www.megcabot.com/diary/">this woman</a>. I just like putting links in my blog because I have it set up so links turn an attractive shade of purple.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Yeah, that's it. I have exhausted all my creativity for today. Interviewing should really commence soon...I have a list. Do you want to see it? Of course you want to see it.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Interviews:</span></div><div><ul><li>Claudia Part Two</li><li><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Liss</span></li><li>some lucky person out there who has yet to say they want to be interviewed!</li></ul><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Remember, I'm very lazy and might not want to interview you when you want to be interviewed. Also, I don't only do <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Facebook</span> interviews! I can interview you over Gmail or even face-to-face! Don't ask to do Morse code or smoke signal interviews. I'm only down with flag signalling during the Civil War. 121222212212121121122! If you're lucky, that means <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I love you, infidels! </span>If you're not lucky, it just means <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">...Infidels!</span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-46299285341128322932009-05-01T14:37:00.000-07:002009-05-02T17:36:02.690-07:00This post is short and Claudia-centric.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This is an interview with Claudia. I had no idea when I randomly interviewed the cousin that this interviewing thing would catch on. My own mother even asked me if I was going to interview her, but I have to wait until I can think up some good questions that make her sound like a tyrannical dictator. (You have been warned, Mother. Oh, and I'll ask them to Father too.)</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Facebook interviews lack the lovely little Facebook-isms that make Facebooking so fun. People put spaces between sentences. It's like semicolons for people who don't use semicolons.<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Okay, the interview has now begun. Forgive me if I spend a long time thinking of questions and less time asking them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Okay. I have a new motto.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: What is it?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Actually, it might be a slogan. Idk [</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">sic</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">] It is </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I excel in excellence.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Do you know how to say that in Latin?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: No. I don't speak Latin. I could say it in pig Latin, if that helps.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: That's fabulous.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Yes, it is.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Figure out how to say it, please, so I can record it on my blog until 12/21/12.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Why until 12/21/12?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Because that's when the world will end.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: So I've heard. In Latin or pig Latin? Wait, is this on record for the interview?<br />Me: Either works. Everything has been on record since I said it was on record.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: But you never said it was on record.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Fine, since I said the interview had begun.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: I'm a pretty pathetic interviewee. Is that what one calls someone who is being interviewed?Me: I guess so.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Or would victim be more appropriate?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: You're not as bad as I am at interviewing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Thank you. I guess. I feel like I should say something witty, but I can't think of anything.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: I'm going to put this on hold for a moment because I'm getting tired of typing everything twice. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Break of approximately five minutes.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Okay. Interviewing again. It has commenced.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Ok. Y</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">eah, in german the verb for 'to drill ones ears' or like pick your ears is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ohren bohren,</span></span></span></div><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">pronounced like oren boren, and that was always weird for me.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Why is there a verb for that?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: I think thats how it's spelled. I don't know why. Because the german speakers of the world enjoy drilling their ear.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: That is yet another reason the child is not taking German.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: I dont know why I'm in French and German if I've always wanted to go to Spain. Oh well.<br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Because French and German are better languages?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Maybe. I'm very sad.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Oh no. Why?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: I now own all the Arsenium flairs on Facebook so I can't get any more until someone makes one.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: How many are there? Also, explain him to my readers.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: There's like five flairs. Where should I start? 1) He's my favorite singer. What else?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: I don't know.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Ummmm... he's from Moldova, which is like tied for the best country ever. Ummm...he's hot...uhhhhh...he has the best voice, its all smoky and deep.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Tied with what?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Oh, with Iceland of course.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Iceland is fab.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Oh yes. But that's off topic.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: There is no topic.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Oh, Arsie plays some mean Moldovan folk music.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: By the way, it doesn't bother you if I fix up everything you say so it conforms to standard English, right?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: I thought Arsenie was the topic. What is standard but a relative measure of what is regular? Hey-- what's wrong with my English? Besides the lack of caps and apostrophes and commas. I only do that for speed's sake.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Nothing. I just like caps and apostrophes and commas.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Ok. Back to Arsenie. Did I say that he's hot? And he has the awesomest accent. I don't know many people with accents as awesome as his.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: I don't know many people with accents. I have to stop now. Maybe I could make this a two-part interview or something.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Ok. We could put up Claudia part 2 another day.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Okay.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: I don't have a nickname, do I?</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: No, you don't.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Ok.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: This is something that needs to be corrected.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her: Yes, yes it does need to be fixed. I'm listening to a good song in French.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Me: Wonderful. Okay, the interview is now terminated.</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><br /></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You will never learn what exactly the song she was listening to was unless you ask her.</p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><br /></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I should really write more, but I don't want to.<br /></p></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-11527789067276377292009-04-26T16:58:00.000-07:002009-04-26T18:16:56.164-07:00The more things change, the more they stay the same.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Wasn't that profound? Yeah, I thought so, too. I've been reading dictionaries again, and not even the actual words in the dictionary, which would be semi-respectable. No, I've been reading the nifty section at the back known as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Foreign Words & Phrases</span>. It has such gems as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. </span>The dictionary translates this as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">the more it changes, the more it's the same thing. </span>I'm just going to assume the dictionary knows what it's talking about.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Today, I saw someone wearing a shirt that said <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Go Blue Live Green.</span> It was pretty fabulous.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don't know what to write about, so I think I might venture out into the world of the Internet and find a blog post topic.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let's see: make a satirical post. You know, I think that one might be too hard for me. I have trouble with this whole sarcasm thing as it is; I'm not sure I can write an entire satirical post.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Write a post like you are telling a story: once upon a time, there was a girl named Libby sitting at a computer. She was typing using the system known as hunt-and-peck because six or so years of typing lessons at school had been wasted on her. Many things were running through her mind, from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I'm hungry</span> to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Why am I trying to write from this prompt if I know I'm not going to go through with it?</span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Make a [blank] for dummies post: procrastinating for dummies. Rule one: if you have something to do, don't do it. There, that covers everything.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Make a 101 Ideas post: ha ha. No.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Well, that list was useless. I'm moving on to another one.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Write a stream of conciousness post that is extremely emotive: OH MY GOSH!!! THE CHILD IS EATING ICE CREAM!!! FATHER IS EATING ICE CREAM!!! NOTHING IS RIGHT IN MY WORLD!!! I MIGHT HAVE TO GO TO SLEEP!!!!!! Sorry. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Emotive</span> to me means caps lock and excessive punctuation.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Coin a phrase which describes a phenomenon that currently has no description: unbloggable <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">adj.</span> unable to be blogged about.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Have you recently tried a different hairstyle? Why, yes, I have. I like this prompt. I think I might do it. A few days ago, I asked Mother to braid my hair in two braids, like pigtails but braided, before I went to school. I don't remember what people said about it. I think a few people thought it was <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">cute</span>. Someone got annoyed with me for gesturing with my hair. I took it out before the end of seventh hour because it was driving me nuts. Oh, and the back of my neck was cold all day. This is why I keep my hair long: it's remarkably good for keeping me warm.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Hey, this is fun. I think I'll do some more of these. Dear readers, if you don't like this, kiss my grits.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would you wish for? I would really like to say I'd wish for something fabulous and noble, like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">world peace</span>, but I don't think I would. I think I would wish for a laptop of my own, first of all. (What are the rules of this genie, anyway? Can I ask for something vague and in the future, like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I wish to have, like, all my books sell if/when I become an author?) </span>I can't actually think of many other things that I really want. It depends on if the genie can only give me material things or if it can give me concepts. I'm confusing myself. Okay, here's my list. It may or may not be true. One, a laptop; two, fame and fortune as an author; three, world peace.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>These lists keep saying <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">do an interview</span>, so here I am conducting an interview with the cousin. While on my trip visiting Civil War battlefields, they taught me that if you want to have a duel with someone, you say you'll be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">taking an interview.</span> Rest assured that the cousin and I are not going to duel. I'd probably die in the procces. I have terrible aim.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">My Interview with the Cousin:</span></div><div>Me: I'm going to interview you for my blog.<br /></div><div>Her:</div><div>Me: Did you die?</div><div>Her: Okie doke. No. I had to help Cara clean up steampunk junk.</div><div>Me: Why did Cara have steampunk junk?</div><div>Her: Because we were costuming today.</div><div>Me: I should warn you that I am copying this entire conversation, sans typos.</div><div>Her: Good good.</div><div>Me: I don't even know how to interview people. What am I supposed to do?</div><div>Her: Ask questions. I answer.</div><div>Me: Explain to my readers what steampunk is, in case they don't know. That's not a question, but I don't care.</div><div>Her<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Steampunk is an alternate cosplay world where electricity is not widespread and everything is powered by steam, including airships. The dress is fairly tricked out Victorian with lots of gears and fancy metal.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: I knew that, somehow. I think that Libba Bray woman wrote about it on her blog. Are you listening to music right now?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Her: No. I am listening to the sounds of nature and the mega-bass from my parents' too-loud movie.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: For gosh sakes, woman, put some music on so I can write about your strange musical tastes.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Her: Fine. Marilyn Manson--"This is the new s---."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: Did you try to pick something that you knew would annoy me?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Her: My new thing is drag. She's drag.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: I can't write that title on my blog, even though I just did. That's the whole point of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">pseudocurses.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; ">Her: I am fully aware of that, little Libsies.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: That's it. This interview is terminated.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Her: Why? Continue to interview. I'll be appropriate for the younger viewers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: You just called me <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">little Libsies</span> again, and I'm bored. Younger viewers? I have no younger viewers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Her: True dat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Me: Yeah, I'm terminating this.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">What a lovely interview. Hey, infidels! Get on Facebook at the same time I get on Facebook, and I'll interview you for my blog! It'll be the best thing since sliced bread, seriously. I could have an interview every day for two days, at least!</span><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That wasn't much of a blog post, but I had fun writing it.<br /></span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-39967177133744506252009-04-08T17:03:00.000-07:002009-04-24T16:44:13.320-07:00Shakespeare is a cabbage.<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Today marks an important day in the history of my blog. When I began typing </span>pseudocurses<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> 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 </span>pseudocurses<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> 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.</span><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That's at least the fourth time I've said that.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, Earth Day was a few days ago. I should have done something special for Earth Day, but wearing my awesome <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Save the Sea Kittens </span>hoodie was enough for me. Earth Day. It's exciting. I'm over it now.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Fine. I do care. I have trouble lying online. This is a problem that I might need to work on for later in life.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I just bought some new books recently. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Melting Stones</span>, which was fabulous simply because Tamora Pierce wrote it, was one. I also got <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Airhead </span>and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Skinned</span>, which I hadn't expected to be about the same thing. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Airhead</span> is by that Meg Cabot woman (calling authors <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">that ... guy/woman</span> is how I show my admiration for them. Really.), which is good because I like her, but I think <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Skinned</span> 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 <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Skinned</span> was good because I like sci-fi and robots and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Airhead</span> was good because I like Meg Cabot.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Example:</div><div>fish yellow cowboy potato Spain dogs blondies cats tofu mariachi fortissimo fabulous fantastic great spiffing amazing English Welsh bonsai kamikaze donut<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Example:</div><div>je choisis</div><div>tu choisis</div><div>elle chosit</div><div>nous choisissons</div><div>vous choisissez</div><div>elles choisissent</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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!<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">my favorite kitty Lulu died </span>is only really sad if you also write about how Lulu being sad makes you feel. Writing <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I had fun in Science today</span> 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).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Having a broken <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">z </span>key has made me realize how many times a day I call myself lazy. Now that it comes out as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">lay</span> all the time, I notice it more. Maybe I should work on being more productive and procrastinating less...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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...<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>No, I'm too lazy.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My English teacher, who shall from this point on be known as The Sherm, is having us do a unit on Shakespeare. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Sherm </span>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. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The first thing you must understand about Shakespeare--this is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">absolutely imperative</span> to know--is that he is a cabbage. Yes. Shakespeare is a cabbage. Or, he <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">was </span>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.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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?<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Example of my notes:</div><div>oh crap! THE PLAGUE</div><div>Shakespeare=a cabbage=ol' C</div><div>ol' C stuck five Iambs in a sentence and called it Iambic pentameter</div><div>ha-ha, let's stick Aristotle in somehow! No.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>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.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That's all for today, dear readers.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Wait, no, it's not. I just want to point out that alternating between calling you <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">dear readers</span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">infidels</span> is perfectly normal and shows no sign of mental disorder on my part. Thank you.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Infidels.<br /></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7063543115221746279.post-16419196879473478762009-04-05T12:37:00.000-07:002009-04-05T13:24:48.530-07:00And now, a cheer about e-mail!<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">G for glass</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">M for mature</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">A for amazing</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">I for immoral</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">L for licorice</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">What does that spell?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">Gmail!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;"><br /></span></div> </span>I just signed into this blog with my new gmail account. The only difference between my new gmail account and my old yahoo account is the username. I still have the same password, which I use for everything. If someone finds out what it is, they'll be able to get into pretty much everything that belongs to me online. I don't like my new gmail account because I don't know how gmail is supposed to be spelled. I want to say <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">g-mail</span>, but I'm not sure if the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">g </span>is supposed to be capitalized or not.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was going to go mope around the house, but the cousin told me to blog. It's very annoying, but I hear many authors have people who yell at them whenever they don't work and get them to finish their novels. I know this because I always read the little page of dedications at either the front or back; you know, the one that lists all these people who helped me through the tough process of writing? Does anyone else read those?<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I'm really not sure what to write about today. We have a very strange and difficult new song in band. It's called <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Amparito Roca</span>. Go look it up on Google or something. I have the first clarinet part, only because the teachers took pity on me for having played the second parts in our last two songs. It has a lot of sixteenth notes, which is a problem because I can't play sixteenth notes, and a lot of music in general, which is a problem because I can't play. I vowed to myself that I would learn to play this song, but that was what I did last time and it didn't work. I still say it's going to be fun. Anna, who has the second part, laughs at me every time I mention it.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My favorite element of the periodic table is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Uuu</span>, unununium. It's also number 111. See how awesome it is? I know nothing about it other than those three things, but they're awesome enough that it could be completely stupid except for that and I wouldn't care. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">How can an element be stupid?</span> you ask. Well, I'm not answering you. Go think about it for yourself.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The cousin is telling me via Facebook to write about her. This is our conversation:<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande'; font-size: 11px; "><h5 class="self" style="font-size: 11px; margin-top: 2px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 6px; padding-bottom: 1px; padding-left: 6px; border-top-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); color: rgb(119, 119, 119); ">Libby</h5><div id="pending_548467713_356614004" class="pic_padding"></div><p id="msg_548467713_356614004" class="p_self pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">I don't know what to write about.</p><h5 class="other" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 11px; margin-top: 2px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 6px; padding-bottom: 1px; padding-left: 6px; border-top-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); "><span class="time_stamp ts_other" style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); float: right; font-size: 9px; font-weight: normal; padding-top: 1px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 1px; padding-left: 0px; ">3:55pm</span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=548467713" style="color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer; ">Audrey</a></h5><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">ME!</p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; ">'cause I'm special.</p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><br /></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Yes, that is exactly what our conversation looked like. I didn't pay her anything to say that. The cousin speaks of her own free will. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">My writing is all going to look messed up now because I put that little chat thing in.</span><br /></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The cousin's name is actually Audrey, to everyone who might not have met her. I just call her <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">the cousin</span>. I don't know why. I said it one day, and it stuck.<br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">Weird Names I Call People and Who They Really Are:</span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "></p><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Tyrannical Dictator: Mother</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Father: Father</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">The child: Robby, my brother</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">The cousin: Audrey, my cousin</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Hermano: all girls I talk to who are not Spiffy or Anna</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Hermana: Anna</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Prima: Spiffy</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;">Chica: Niraj, also any other guy</span></li></ul><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And there you have it! I don't know why I like calling people by Spanish words that apply to the wrong gender anyway. It amuses me. I suppose I should use French words, since I actually speak some French, but Spanish is funnier. The problem with having different names for everyone means that I can't just say, "Hola, hermanos!" like I did before Spiffy and Anna (who take Spanish) complained about being called guy names. Now I have to say, "Hola, hermanos y hermana y prima!" which is really too long for a greeting.</span></span><br /><p></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I also speak French in situations where French doesn't make sense, such as in the middle of sentences typed to people who don't speak any French. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">But why would you do something that stupid?</span> they ask, and I reply, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I did it parce que I felt like it. </span>They call this <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Frenglish</span> or<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> Franglais.</span><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">The cousin just told me that I made a mistake in claiming that her posse calls me </span>the abortion one<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> because of Chica's story. The story about Chica was completely true, but it's not why they call me that. I don't feel like typing up the cousin's story, so you can go ask her if you really need to know.</span><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></p><p class="p_other pic_padding" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 2px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 2px; padding-left: 3px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 4px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 4px; line-height: 14px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This post is fairly short, but I'm not in the mood to write any more. I have homework to do and school tomorrow. Adios, infidels.<br /></span></p></span></div>Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05453802050736046461noreply@blogger.com1