Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts

07 June 2009

The 2008-2009 school year is now over.

Let us all have a moment of silence for it.

No talking. That means you.

Okay, that was fun.

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.

To make up for this, I am treating you to the inner workings of my brain, circa 2002.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The backyard was probably the best part, and it's hard to have a best part in an awesome secret hideout as awesome 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 Harold and the Purple Crayon. Unfortunately, everyone was only allowed to use their color. If you walked through the corners, you ended up in some nasty swamp.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Did you miss me, infidels?

27 February 2009

"stayhome mom & doting dad yearn for your baby"

That was an adopt ad in the newspaper. I thought it would make a great title. Aren't you just dying to give up your child to them? They yearn for him/her. Yearn.

Last night, I stayed up until midnight watching animanga with the child. Because I am the kind of person who thinks midnight is late but will stay up that late just to watch animanga. Of course, I didn't just watch animanga. This is the full list of things I did (minus the one or two or ten things I forgot about):

What I Did For Two Hours Last Night
  • Decided the animanga was racist against the French for only offering JaItalicpanese and English subtitles
  • Complained about Tohru having brown hair
  • Complained about my complaining about Tohru's hair
  • Informed the child that I am often hairist against those who are not blonde
  • Complained about almost every character's voice
  • Spent the first five minutes whispering to the child, "His voice is weird!"
  • Burst into hysterical giggles every time Yuki talked
  • Imitated Yuki's voice by putting my hand over my mouth and talking in a falsetto
  • Resolved to look up who the voice actors were so I could laugh my head off at them
  • Told the child he was acting like an animanga lover
  • Assured the child that acting like an animanga lover was not a bad thing
  • Giggled
  • Snickered
  • Laughed
  • Read two books
  • Yelled at Cassee (aka. Kimchi Kitty) until she ran upstairs
  • Wrote Kimchi Kitty gusta Ponchita on a paper plate
  • Decided to gasp and put my book (or hand) over my mouth every time anyone swore
  • Decided that there were too many opportunites to do that in the animanga
  • Complained about how profanity is affecting our children
  • Decided to put my hand over my mouth and gasp loudly whenever people in real life swear
  • Complained
  • Complained about the songs during the credits
  • Complained when the child skipped over the credits
  • Listened to the child complain that I complained too much
  • Told that child that I was complaining for the sake of complaining
  • Actually watched the animanga
It was a busy evening indeed. Besides, everyone knows that the more I complain about something, the more I like it.

One of the books I read was called The Blue Avenger or something like that. It was an okay book, but as a pseudocurser, my favorite part was that every time in the book where someone should have cursed, it instead said !@#$. That was because the main character liked old-fashioned comic books, where characters say @$#! a lot, and also because his father said something along the lines of "profanity is the language of those who can think of nothing else to say." In other words, "people who cuss are idiots." Yes, that means you.

Idiot.