This blog post is shorter than some words.

Today is Sunday. In different places around the world, they call this fine day many different things, but I'm really not in the mood to list any of them. I'm not really in the mood to do much, but I feel obligated to post today. You see what writing this thing has done to me? I feel almost like I should be responsible.

Lolcats annoy me.

I just had to get that out there. They really do annoy me. I have nothing against the idea of putting captions on funny pictures. That's just wonderful, as far as I'm concerned. I just don't like the misspelled captions. They bother me. Yes, I'm sure there are many people who think the misspellings are all part of their charm, but I think they'd be just as funny if they were spelled correctly. Funnier, maybe, because it would take less time to figure out what the heck they're saying under all those z's and exclamation points.

Amazingly enough, it's becoming a lot easier for me to write the name of my blog. As they say, practice makes perfect. It used to take several tries for me to type Pseudocurses correctly into the little searchbar. Now I can do it the first time I try! My finger practically fly over the keys. I feel so fantastic. This is a great talent I have: being able to spell the name of my own blog. Next, I might try spelling someone else's blog.

Eva Hattie told me a few days ago that she wants a signed copy of my book when I write it (maybe even if it's my autobiography about the genius or stupid thing I do with my life). Yes, the people I talk to usually end up being quoted here. If you don't like it, get a sign to wear around your neck, something along the lines of: Libby, do not quote anything I say. Or, even better, you could print out this thing I just made up:

I, __________(your name here), do not give my consent for my words, spoken or written, to appear on the blog Pseudocurses.

__/__/__(date)  ___________________(your signature here) _________(your favorite color here)

Okay, lovely. Hand this to me at any point between now and our world's imminent doom on December 12, 2009, and it'll be totally valid for as long as I want it to be. The world is going to end on 21/12/12, obviously. It's common knowledge. Several ancient civilizations prophecied it, so it must be true.

I'm really not sure what else to write about. I mean, seriously. I've been over pretty much everything that's on my mind right now. I wrote a poem today, but I'm not going to tell you about it. I'll just mention it in passing and leave you to wonder. I feel so cruel.

Long Words:

• Floccinaucinihilipilification
  
• Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
  
• Pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism
  
• Antidisestablishmentarianism
  
• Honorificabilitudinitatibus

The only other long words I saw were actually too long to post, so I refrained.

I'm tired. Bye, infidels.

Today in history was Valentine's Day.

At school today, someone began to tell us all about something important in history that happened on this very day. They're usually all very depressing facts, like "so-and-so got shot today but two hundred years ago" and "today was the day Hitler was born." However, today's announcement went "Today in history was Valentine's Day!" Really? I thought Valentine's Day was in two days less than a fortnight. And then, as if to add insult to injury, our Announcement Reader told us that "the current degrees is 30." Tempertature. The current temperature is 30 degrees. Even if the right word was degrees, you wouldn't be able to conjugate it with is. Degrees is plural. Is is singular. If this keeps up, I'll have to storm down to the SPC and go copy-writer on their scripts.

Your weekly dose of the English language is now over.

I just realized that people will be able to look at this blog years from now when I've completely forgotten about all the dumb stuff I used to do in middle school. I'll be able to look back and laugh, but my future employers will be able to see what was running through my head in eighth grade. Scary.

A Note To My Future Employers In The Future: What's it like in the future? Have they invented those solar-powered scooters I want yet? Anyway, Future Employers, please disregard everything I write on this blog. Unless, of course, it's stunningly intelligent. In that case, I'm your girl. Hire me.

I've already learned something about blogging, and this is only my second day. I suppose you could say I'm a quick study. When making a blog, don't give it a really long name that's nearly impossible to spell. I was trying to type Psuedocurses into the search bar on Remi (short for Remington, my computer's name) but I mixed up the e and the u again. That's the trouble with coining terms and then naming your blog after them. The next time I make a blog, I'll call it somethng simple like Bob or Cat.

Today I am going to write about my opinion on an important topic that pertains to your life. Yes, you, reading this blog on your computer. I will write up an opinion every day, like an opinion column or something, unless I get bored. If that happens, I'll stop and you'll all cry tears of sadness that you don't get to read my opinions. I'm sure you care enough about what I think that you'd cry. Everyone cares about me. Even if you don't know it yet, I'll tell you. You care. Deeply.

Geese. Yes, those winged birds. I don't care if all birds have wings. Geese are particularly winged. They have two wings, in fact, one on each side of their body. Most geese use their wings to fly, but I've heard that some geese use theirs for other purposes, like bowling. Have I mentioned how much I love to bowl? Wait, that has nothing to do with geese and my opinion on them. Okay, back on topic: I think geese are nice but pretty dumb. You wouldn't notice how dumb they are, watching them fly around in the sky, but I fed a goose woodchips once while I was supposed to be doing some Girl Scout thing. The goose ate them, too. Also, you always hear urban legend-esque tales of geese biting people's fingers off like feathered snapping turtles.

I'm reading a book that Mother found for me. I think she gave it to me just because it's about pumas and she knows they're my favorite animals. How does she know these things? I swear the woman is a mind reader. The book's name is The Last Wild Place, by Rosa Jordan. It's about these young children whose parents are dating. Or something. I can't really tell who's related to who, especially since I think the main character's sister is best friends with his best friend's mom. And they have a friend named Lily. She's a creepy little soccer player who would take her soccer ball to class with her if they let her. The three of them go into this wetlands, despite there being venomous snakes around, and meet some adorable little puma kittens. I'm still waiting for the mother puma to show up and bite someone.

Writing a blog is a very important step in my life, somewhere between having a child and buying a new computer. I don't think I'm ready for this emotionally. It marks the end of innocence. Yes, it does. Don't ask how. It marks the beginning of a period of new life and thoughtfulness. Blogging raises my awareness of the online world around me. (Raise your hand if you can tell I'm making this up. Wow, that's a lot of hands. I had no idea my reader(s) were so intuitive and good at detecting lies in text.)

I really wanted to go shopping today, but I don't think it's going to happen. Heck in a handbasket. I need to go buy myself a guy's dress shirt. I'll never be able to survive without one. Also, I told about twenty people of my plans to dress up and look dapper with the men's basketball team. If I don't do it, they'll all be disappointed. Actually, most of them think it's a stupid idea, but I'll still be disappointed. And I'm the only person who really matters around here. In the land of the brunettes, the blonde-haired girl is queen.

I'm done butchering sayings now. Go live your lives. And remember, children, a leg for a leg leaves the whole world unable to walk.