Obligatory post starting in three... two.... one.
Nothing
exciting is happening in my world. Nothing for me to sass about.
Nothing for me to rant or be sarcastic about. The result ending in lack
of updates for this stupid blog.
Well, I shall attempt with something to fill in my time.
I
have no job, no license, college applications are still not sent in, no
desire to do anything, messed up computer, puppy still feels the need
to steal underwear out of my bedroom, eighteenth birthday is coming up,
lack of love life, state photo competition in a few weeks, prom is next
month, graduation in two...boredom progressively growing.
I
feel shameful for not updating this thing and I suppose I don't want to
anymore. I have thought about posting my photography, but my paranoia
gets the best of me and I fear that people will steal my shitty (in my
opinion) work.
I shall attempt to bring this back to life with whatever it is I have to say. Nothing much anyways.
Ending this post with a Lullatone video - my new found favourite band.
06 April 2007
10 February 2007
Knickers, Q-tips, and crunk like that...
It's amazing how puppies grow at a rapid pace. I forgot how that went. I haven't been in the prescense of a puppy in a long time, well own one for that matter. I've been used to my full grown dog for a long time. Now with two pooches in my house (thanks to my dad's obsession of getting another), everything is chaotic and tasks/chores have to be done at the right moment (to help lower the chaos).
Berkley (the puppy) is learning fast, given he is dumb, but he is catching on and following everything that Molly (the adult) does. The baby has finally learned to climb down the stairs by himself. For weeks he's been hiking up the stairs and then whine for eons until somebody would pick him up and take him down. Of course he would run away before being picked up, to make things more difficult.
The little stinker knows that my bedroom door is the easiest door to open in the whole house. Just a little nudge of the nose and BAM! it's open. He is certainly entertained in my room, more than my little sister's. She has toys everywhere, but I have clothes and shoes on my floor. Berkley is very fond of my socks, especially the dirty ones and also my underwear. The little pervert takes my underwear from my clean or dirty piles of clothing and leaves them around the house.
He is also going through the phase of sneaking in the bathrooms and digging in the trashcans to get used tissue and chew them up. I don't know if I can handle closing the door behind me every time after I'm done using it, or putting the trashcan on the counter. It's ridiculous. Why would he want to chew on snotty rags or Q-tips? Any liquid of some form that comes out of the human body is disgusting, it should not be considered tasty by any creature that lives on this planet.
Oh, I cannot end this post without the mentioning of Anna Nicole Smith. It's her time to shine for a second.
So.... She's dead, hm?
I think that's a bunch of bullshit. I'm convinced that Anna Nicole is not dead. I will stand by my statement. I honestly think that she's in hiding. Yes, hiding from the public, running from the DNA test to find out who the hell is her baby's daddy is, and from the itsy bitsy lawsuit involved with Trimspa (apparently Trimspa products don't work). There is a good argument that she was under stress with her son's death, trying to figure out what DNA means and how it will solve the confusion that is involved with her baby, persuading judges to get her late hubby's money, and figuring out all the right moments to flash her (fake) girly bits. Okay, some of those might be lies, what do I know?
The Marilyn Monroe wannabe is not dead. That is what I say.
She's probably hiding in the woods with Sasquatch or is hanging out with some cult that has sex with ghosts while they sleep.
I suppose I shouldn't be harsh. Ms. Single-Mother-Gold-Diggin'-Sex/Attention-Fiend, I hope that you are well.... wherever the hell you are.
This post is dedicated to Anna Nicole Smith.
If you really are dead, I hope you're having a happy reunion with your really really old husband and son.
Berkley (the puppy) is learning fast, given he is dumb, but he is catching on and following everything that Molly (the adult) does. The baby has finally learned to climb down the stairs by himself. For weeks he's been hiking up the stairs and then whine for eons until somebody would pick him up and take him down. Of course he would run away before being picked up, to make things more difficult.
The little stinker knows that my bedroom door is the easiest door to open in the whole house. Just a little nudge of the nose and BAM! it's open. He is certainly entertained in my room, more than my little sister's. She has toys everywhere, but I have clothes and shoes on my floor. Berkley is very fond of my socks, especially the dirty ones and also my underwear. The little pervert takes my underwear from my clean or dirty piles of clothing and leaves them around the house.
He is also going through the phase of sneaking in the bathrooms and digging in the trashcans to get used tissue and chew them up. I don't know if I can handle closing the door behind me every time after I'm done using it, or putting the trashcan on the counter. It's ridiculous. Why would he want to chew on snotty rags or Q-tips? Any liquid of some form that comes out of the human body is disgusting, it should not be considered tasty by any creature that lives on this planet.
Oh, I cannot end this post without the mentioning of Anna Nicole Smith. It's her time to shine for a second.
So.... She's dead, hm?
I think that's a bunch of bullshit. I'm convinced that Anna Nicole is not dead. I will stand by my statement. I honestly think that she's in hiding. Yes, hiding from the public, running from the DNA test to find out who the hell is her baby's daddy is, and from the itsy bitsy lawsuit involved with Trimspa (apparently Trimspa products don't work). There is a good argument that she was under stress with her son's death, trying to figure out what DNA means and how it will solve the confusion that is involved with her baby, persuading judges to get her late hubby's money, and figuring out all the right moments to flash her (fake) girly bits. Okay, some of those might be lies, what do I know?
The Marilyn Monroe wannabe is not dead. That is what I say.
She's probably hiding in the woods with Sasquatch or is hanging out with some cult that has sex with ghosts while they sleep.
I suppose I shouldn't be harsh. Ms. Single-Mother-Gold-Diggin'-Sex/Attention-Fiend, I hope that you are well.... wherever the hell you are.
If you really are dead, I hope you're having a happy reunion with your really really old husband and son.
29 January 2007
P.M.S. -- Uh OH!
I'm feeling menstrual and this is probably the best time for me to get my frustrations out.
First off, I am sick and tired of getting criticized for one of paintings I have done that relates to feminism. I have been put down by dumbfucks that have too much testosterone to think. Don't call me a fascist, you sick chauvinistic pig. Feminism is the equality for all sexes (male, female, transgender). It is NOT about women being above men. It's to be equal. Treated equally. Don't sit there and think that everyone is equal. Men are still being treated a hell of a lot more better than women, more specifically in the working field. For example, men are still being payed more money than women when doing the exact same job. Feminism is for equality for everything. It's not just about gender, that you fail to think it only supports. I am 100% for equality for everybody and everything. Human. Animal. Black. White. Everything. Don't think that you can put me down by calling me a fascist because I have a painting supporting feminism. Being a feminist is not just for lesbians or straight women, men can be too. You want equality? You're a feminist too. Call me a fascist, you're a fascist too. Being a fascist is being right winged, and I'm far from that. Think about these things you dumbfucks.
Oh, I have more to share.
I have been feeling that my creativity and style is being absorbed and taken away from me.
"It's high school kid."
Yeah yeah, I understand, but are we really supposed to lack originality? What do we like? What do we know? I understand all of this, but I am getting exhausted from trying to be myself without anybody copying me. Some will know who I'm talking about, and some won't. It's obvious to some, and some too oblivious to understand. Okay, so there will be some similarities. High school kids in a close environment, the teachers are the shepherds while the students are the sheep. I really hate the idea of that. I go out of my way to be different from the vast majority of students. Though, it's not just style that being copied, it's music and actions that are being copied as well. I'm literally so exhausted from this.I normally don't give a shit if people share similarities with me, but they go out of their way to be just like me; they suck all the life out me. I shouldn't care about this, but when it comes to originality and personality, I get really anal about it. I don't mind being the black sheep in a flock of normal looking sheep. I aim to please myself and be myself, by being creative and original, to an extent. (It's awfully hard to be 100% original at generic white suburbia high school.) The only thing that matters is what I think of myself, and right now there are multiple copies of myself. What a not-so-great feeling.
I also want to point out that I'm so sick of stereotypes. I am not aiming to please and I am not aiming to be put in a certain type with others. I absolutely can't stand being called an indie kid or a hipster. Cliques in high school is the most absurd thing, but yet it happens. Yes, I understand. I get what I like, and I like many things. I am very open-minded. I am well rounded in character. I have a broad taste in many things. So I might wear a pair of converse on a daily basis, and I might wear my glasses once in a while, that does not pronounce me as "indie". I see many kids that will wear converse shoes, or wear glasses. Does that make them indie as well? Fucking ignorance, that's what it is.
I'm also sick of school. It's the same shit, different day. (For lack of a better phrase) I have never wanted to drop out so badly. What I should have done was take so many classes, that way I could have graduated early at the turn of the semester. Why didn't I think of that?
Oh, and people are pissing me off. Stop following me, literally. Do I not give off the hint that I want to be alone very well? Am I not clear enough when I say, "I'm not in the mood"? I hate the feeling of being smothered and controlled. I think feeling those ways are far more worse than feeling alone. There are a specific few that are doing these actions that I can't absolutely stand. I have my own mind, I will not have you control me. No, I will not do this or that. And when I do this or that, I don't need you attached to my hip. I'm independent, and I have a fear of leaches.
I have so many more frustrations, but I'm not in the mood to type them all out.
Get off my back, and give me a damn piece of chocolate.
First off, I am sick and tired of getting criticized for one of paintings I have done that relates to feminism. I have been put down by dumbfucks that have too much testosterone to think. Don't call me a fascist, you sick chauvinistic pig. Feminism is the equality for all sexes (male, female, transgender). It is NOT about women being above men. It's to be equal. Treated equally. Don't sit there and think that everyone is equal. Men are still being treated a hell of a lot more better than women, more specifically in the working field. For example, men are still being payed more money than women when doing the exact same job. Feminism is for equality for everything. It's not just about gender, that you fail to think it only supports. I am 100% for equality for everybody and everything. Human. Animal. Black. White. Everything. Don't think that you can put me down by calling me a fascist because I have a painting supporting feminism. Being a feminist is not just for lesbians or straight women, men can be too. You want equality? You're a feminist too. Call me a fascist, you're a fascist too. Being a fascist is being right winged, and I'm far from that. Think about these things you dumbfucks.
Oh, I have more to share.
I have been feeling that my creativity and style is being absorbed and taken away from me.
"It's high school kid."
Yeah yeah, I understand, but are we really supposed to lack originality? What do we like? What do we know? I understand all of this, but I am getting exhausted from trying to be myself without anybody copying me. Some will know who I'm talking about, and some won't. It's obvious to some, and some too oblivious to understand. Okay, so there will be some similarities. High school kids in a close environment, the teachers are the shepherds while the students are the sheep. I really hate the idea of that. I go out of my way to be different from the vast majority of students. Though, it's not just style that being copied, it's music and actions that are being copied as well. I'm literally so exhausted from this.I normally don't give a shit if people share similarities with me, but they go out of their way to be just like me; they suck all the life out me. I shouldn't care about this, but when it comes to originality and personality, I get really anal about it. I don't mind being the black sheep in a flock of normal looking sheep. I aim to please myself and be myself, by being creative and original, to an extent. (It's awfully hard to be 100% original at generic white suburbia high school.) The only thing that matters is what I think of myself, and right now there are multiple copies of myself. What a not-so-great feeling.
I also want to point out that I'm so sick of stereotypes. I am not aiming to please and I am not aiming to be put in a certain type with others. I absolutely can't stand being called an indie kid or a hipster. Cliques in high school is the most absurd thing, but yet it happens. Yes, I understand. I get what I like, and I like many things. I am very open-minded. I am well rounded in character. I have a broad taste in many things. So I might wear a pair of converse on a daily basis, and I might wear my glasses once in a while, that does not pronounce me as "indie". I see many kids that will wear converse shoes, or wear glasses. Does that make them indie as well? Fucking ignorance, that's what it is.
I'm also sick of school. It's the same shit, different day. (For lack of a better phrase) I have never wanted to drop out so badly. What I should have done was take so many classes, that way I could have graduated early at the turn of the semester. Why didn't I think of that?
Oh, and people are pissing me off. Stop following me, literally. Do I not give off the hint that I want to be alone very well? Am I not clear enough when I say, "I'm not in the mood"? I hate the feeling of being smothered and controlled. I think feeling those ways are far more worse than feeling alone. There are a specific few that are doing these actions that I can't absolutely stand. I have my own mind, I will not have you control me. No, I will not do this or that. And when I do this or that, I don't need you attached to my hip. I'm independent, and I have a fear of leaches.
I have so many more frustrations, but I'm not in the mood to type them all out.
Get off my back, and give me a damn piece of chocolate.
21 December 2006
14 December 2006
Please sir, may I have some more.......(time)...?
Lately all I've been wanting to do is read. It's the only thing that makes me feel the blood flowing through my veins. It's more entertaining than doing school work, talking to people that I try to avoid, and it inspires me to do more and better things with my life.
I haven't been doing very well with school. It could be that I just want a little break, but it's most likely "senioritis".
I don't like being told how to do this, or how to do that. Or follow any rules. I hate doing my trig. homework (which I found out that I have an 'E' in the class), I don't like writing papers about movies in expository writing, and not doing anything in newspaper. I'm actually getting slightly tired of photography right now. (Big shocker, I know!)
I feel as if I'm being drained from all of these tasks that I should be enjoying. All this work and pressure. I'm glad that reading gives me this temporary escape from reality, though I haven't had much the time to do so.
Filling out college applications, attempting to do my homework, finding a job, trying to keep a social life, catching up on sleep, and with the holidays coming up, I've been juggling these tasks with my favourite hobby.
I don't know if I can last until holiday break. I shall try my best, but exhaustion is taking its toll. I just want to read! I don't want work, I want books!
I want everybody to lend me their books to make me happy.
I haven't been doing very well with school. It could be that I just want a little break, but it's most likely "senioritis".
I don't like being told how to do this, or how to do that. Or follow any rules. I hate doing my trig. homework (which I found out that I have an 'E' in the class), I don't like writing papers about movies in expository writing, and not doing anything in newspaper. I'm actually getting slightly tired of photography right now. (Big shocker, I know!)
I feel as if I'm being drained from all of these tasks that I should be enjoying. All this work and pressure. I'm glad that reading gives me this temporary escape from reality, though I haven't had much the time to do so.
Filling out college applications, attempting to do my homework, finding a job, trying to keep a social life, catching up on sleep, and with the holidays coming up, I've been juggling these tasks with my favourite hobby.
I don't know if I can last until holiday break. I shall try my best, but exhaustion is taking its toll. I just want to read! I don't want work, I want books!
I want everybody to lend me their books to make me happy.
11 November 2006
I'm hip because I have a soul patch
So I went with my Skill Center buddies to Grand Rapids to experience a life altering event. Po'foliyo Day.
National Portfolio Day.
My stomach was in twists and turns. I was hella nervous to show my portfolio to the art schools. I was so nervous that they were going to tear me from limb to limb and just say "You're a fuckin' failure. Get the fuck out of my sight." I seriously thought that. I'm honestly that harsh on myself and on my work. I don't know why I don't give myself credit. But anyways, to the point.
The event was held at Kendall College in Grand Rapids. I didn't expect to be set up like it was. All the colleges were in different classrooms and on different floors. I honestly thought it was going to be set up like a convention, like in a ballroom or something and there were bunch of tables and kids lining up to get their crunk viewed.
The Skill Center crew and I were early so we had to wait in the mucho long line that grew even longer. They eventually let everybody go early to visit the schools they wanted to visit so then there was more space in the building. The shindig wasn't supposed to start until noon, it was 11:30 and I had to wait in another line to have CCS [College for Creative Studies] view my crunk. While I'm waiting and feeling mondo nervous, I kick into one of my old habits and observe (and somewhat eavesdrop on) other people. I just wanted to get a taste of what the other artists had to offer and get a peek at their portfolios. There was a group of kids not far behind from me just sitting down and showing off to each other. Two girls and two boys.
One of the guys, Bud, really rubbed me the wrong way. He came off as this guy that thought he was hot shit. I don't like to judge, but just how he presented himself pissed me off and I couldn't help but think this. He had so much stuff with him, and he was whipping things out from left and right. The other artists were "Oohing" and "Aahing", and I was just sitting there stupefied with their reactions. This so-called artist was not hot shit. Everybody has different views when it comes to art, yes I know, but Bud didn't have impressive stuff. I honestly did not think that he was good. He had a couple of decent pieces, not strong, but decent. He had drawings, posters, designs, and some photos. One of the girls was looking at his photos saying "Ooh I like this. Ooh I love this." and I just looked at his photos with anger. They were honestly that horrible. They didn't look like he put much thought into the idea of the shot, they were all centered (that's a no-no), they looked cliché, and they had a look of poor quality. The pictures were pixely and boring. Trust me. I don't think he has ever taken a photography class before.
I don't want to come off as some art snob and think I know everything about art (which I don't), but this guy was such an asshole. A pretentious asshole who thought he was cool because he had his hair pulled back in a pony tail, wore converse shoes, had a soul patch, glasses, wore jewelry, and could supposedly draw a picture sonically fast. The way how he spoke made him come off as a jerk. It sounded like he planned out exactly what to say and how to say it. He was drawing in these kids that didn't know any better and it made me sick. He was so confident with his work and the only thing I could think while watching in disgust was "I bet he thinks he's some super hip alternative kid."
Witnessing this before me was just so intense. I had to hold back my comments, and maybe a couple of fists. I wanted to beat the guy up, can't lie about that.
I can't stand it when people are like that. People that think they are worth your time. Asking for all this attention because they think they're top shelf. The best apple of the bunch. Basically "da bomb" at life. People that think they know everything when they don't know shit! I hate that!
Well, this jerk didn't make my experience sour, even though he pissed me off, Portfolio Day went really well. Turns out CCS really loves my stuff and wants me to apply, sonically fast. (Ha ha) I'm pretty much accepted, just have to send in application and send over tons and tons of money. I suppose I best start prostitutin' myself to get that cash.
Here's a rough sketch of Bud.
National Portfolio Day.
My stomach was in twists and turns. I was hella nervous to show my portfolio to the art schools. I was so nervous that they were going to tear me from limb to limb and just say "You're a fuckin' failure. Get the fuck out of my sight." I seriously thought that. I'm honestly that harsh on myself and on my work. I don't know why I don't give myself credit. But anyways, to the point.
The event was held at Kendall College in Grand Rapids. I didn't expect to be set up like it was. All the colleges were in different classrooms and on different floors. I honestly thought it was going to be set up like a convention, like in a ballroom or something and there were bunch of tables and kids lining up to get their crunk viewed.
The Skill Center crew and I were early so we had to wait in the mucho long line that grew even longer. They eventually let everybody go early to visit the schools they wanted to visit so then there was more space in the building. The shindig wasn't supposed to start until noon, it was 11:30 and I had to wait in another line to have CCS [College for Creative Studies] view my crunk. While I'm waiting and feeling mondo nervous, I kick into one of my old habits and observe (and somewhat eavesdrop on) other people. I just wanted to get a taste of what the other artists had to offer and get a peek at their portfolios. There was a group of kids not far behind from me just sitting down and showing off to each other. Two girls and two boys.
One of the guys, Bud, really rubbed me the wrong way. He came off as this guy that thought he was hot shit. I don't like to judge, but just how he presented himself pissed me off and I couldn't help but think this. He had so much stuff with him, and he was whipping things out from left and right. The other artists were "Oohing" and "Aahing", and I was just sitting there stupefied with their reactions. This so-called artist was not hot shit. Everybody has different views when it comes to art, yes I know, but Bud didn't have impressive stuff. I honestly did not think that he was good. He had a couple of decent pieces, not strong, but decent. He had drawings, posters, designs, and some photos. One of the girls was looking at his photos saying "Ooh I like this. Ooh I love this." and I just looked at his photos with anger. They were honestly that horrible. They didn't look like he put much thought into the idea of the shot, they were all centered (that's a no-no), they looked cliché, and they had a look of poor quality. The pictures were pixely and boring. Trust me. I don't think he has ever taken a photography class before.
I don't want to come off as some art snob and think I know everything about art (which I don't), but this guy was such an asshole. A pretentious asshole who thought he was cool because he had his hair pulled back in a pony tail, wore converse shoes, had a soul patch, glasses, wore jewelry, and could supposedly draw a picture sonically fast. The way how he spoke made him come off as a jerk. It sounded like he planned out exactly what to say and how to say it. He was drawing in these kids that didn't know any better and it made me sick. He was so confident with his work and the only thing I could think while watching in disgust was "I bet he thinks he's some super hip alternative kid."
Witnessing this before me was just so intense. I had to hold back my comments, and maybe a couple of fists. I wanted to beat the guy up, can't lie about that.
I can't stand it when people are like that. People that think they are worth your time. Asking for all this attention because they think they're top shelf. The best apple of the bunch. Basically "da bomb" at life. People that think they know everything when they don't know shit! I hate that!
Well, this jerk didn't make my experience sour, even though he pissed me off, Portfolio Day went really well. Turns out CCS really loves my stuff and wants me to apply, sonically fast. (Ha ha) I'm pretty much accepted, just have to send in application and send over tons and tons of money. I suppose I best start prostitutin' myself to get that cash.
Here's a rough sketch of Bud.
01 November 2006
Technically pumpkins are fruit?
I thought I'd update on how my Halloween went.
Spooktastic beeotch!
So for Halloween I didn't do much. Just wore my costume at school (Cootie Bug/Love Bug/Ladybug/Jenni-Bug), carved a pumpkin, and accumulated candy from door to door.
Nothin' special.
Stripes are hard to downsize I tell ya.
Ignore the ugly markings on this handsome fellow.
The pumpkin, not me.
Trick /o/ Treatin' was the highlight of my day.
I'll never be too old for it.
Yeah, that's it.
Bitch said what?
Bitch said AWESOME!
Spooktastic beeotch!
So for Halloween I didn't do much. Just wore my costume at school (Cootie Bug/Love Bug/Ladybug/Jenni-Bug), carved a pumpkin, and accumulated candy from door to door.
Nothin' special.
Stripes are hard to downsize I tell ya.
Ignore the ugly markings on this handsome fellow.
The pumpkin, not me.
Trick /o/ Treatin' was the highlight of my day.
I'll never be too old for it.
Yeah, that's it.
Bitch said what?
Bitch said AWESOME!
11 October 2006
A goblet of youth blood
So today was like any other day. Okay, it was like any other delayed start school day that occurs on the second Wednesday of every month.
I decided to not go to school today, instead I went to Skill Center. Technically Skill Center is a school, but it's on a completely different level, and I love it.
Before I went to my Photography II class at Skill Center, I decided to visit my Great G-Ma Peggy at the Old Folk's Home. Okay, so it's technically not titled that, but it might as well be. I went there because I was on an assignment. OF COURSE. Now why would I visit old farts for fun?
I take that back. I love old people, they are adorable. LIKE TOTALLY. I was visiting my Great G-Ma for my assignment titled "The Golden Ages". There was nothing golden about it besides the overbearing scent of Gold Bond. (Okay, I take that back too.) My Gram was there as well, so I managed to get a few shots with my Gram and G-Ma together. Mother and daughter. How nice.
After taking the pictures and leaving the place, I noticed all the old people staring at me. Staring at me as if they were staring deep into my young soul. I am a paranoid girl, but I just knew they wanted my youth. I just knew it. I'm sure they don't get that many young visitors, but it's rude to stare! If you've ever visited an older community, you know what I mean. They are envious of our youth, of our energy, and our hot asses. If I didn't get out of there any sooner, I knew they were going to gang up on me. They would surround me with their walkers, canes, and auto-wheelchair things. I'm sure they would use their dentures like boomerangs and poison me with their sleep aid medication. They wanted to drink my youthful blood from a metal goblet covered in dragonish designs. Oh, and with a straw too. (Some of the older people would have a problem holding it up.)
Yes, it is all true.
I claim it to be!
Toast to the oldies!
You ain't gettin' my blood!
I decided to not go to school today, instead I went to Skill Center. Technically Skill Center is a school, but it's on a completely different level, and I love it.
Before I went to my Photography II class at Skill Center, I decided to visit my Great G-Ma Peggy at the Old Folk's Home. Okay, so it's technically not titled that, but it might as well be. I went there because I was on an assignment. OF COURSE. Now why would I visit old farts for fun?
I take that back. I love old people, they are adorable. LIKE TOTALLY. I was visiting my Great G-Ma for my assignment titled "The Golden Ages". There was nothing golden about it besides the overbearing scent of Gold Bond. (Okay, I take that back too.) My Gram was there as well, so I managed to get a few shots with my Gram and G-Ma together. Mother and daughter. How nice.
After taking the pictures and leaving the place, I noticed all the old people staring at me. Staring at me as if they were staring deep into my young soul. I am a paranoid girl, but I just knew they wanted my youth. I just knew it. I'm sure they don't get that many young visitors, but it's rude to stare! If you've ever visited an older community, you know what I mean. They are envious of our youth, of our energy, and our hot asses. If I didn't get out of there any sooner, I knew they were going to gang up on me. They would surround me with their walkers, canes, and auto-wheelchair things. I'm sure they would use their dentures like boomerangs and poison me with their sleep aid medication. They wanted to drink my youthful blood from a metal goblet covered in dragonish designs. Oh, and with a straw too. (Some of the older people would have a problem holding it up.)
Yes, it is all true.
I claim it to be!
Toast to the oldies!
You ain't gettin' my blood!
24 September 2006
C'est Bon. C'est Mariage.
"I want to marry that kid. Red hair, glasses, freckles, braces, chubby, and a McDonald's uniform. He is the epitome of amazing. I'm going to marry that kid."
My mother, little sister, and I stopped by McDonald's today. I'm not much of a fast food eater, especially of McDonald's, but today I made an exception. I ordered the fruit and walnut snack pack and it was handed to me by the most handsome McD's worker of all time.
Here's a rough sketch of my man to be. It's a shame that I didn't catch a glimpse of his name tag. I believe he works at the MacDo on Hill and Fenton. I will hire a search party (or private investigator) to tell me all about him. I am the future Mrs. RedheadMcD'sWorker.
[By the way, I am off my anti-sarcazmic meds, so sarcasm is oozing out of me as I type. Just a warning.]
My mother, little sister, and I stopped by McDonald's today. I'm not much of a fast food eater, especially of McDonald's, but today I made an exception. I ordered the fruit and walnut snack pack and it was handed to me by the most handsome McD's worker of all time.
Here's a rough sketch of my man to be. It's a shame that I didn't catch a glimpse of his name tag. I believe he works at the MacDo on Hill and Fenton. I will hire a search party (or private investigator) to tell me all about him. I am the future Mrs. RedheadMcD'sWorker.
[By the way, I am off my anti-sarcazmic meds, so sarcasm is oozing out of me as I type. Just a warning.]
11 September 2006
IMGP0223
I don't have any smart-ass comments to make.
No sarcastic remarks.
Geez!
I must be ill.
I have a thing with photographing reflections. It's my thang. Thing.. thang... hm.
Okay not really.
Damn, I sure could go for some chapstick.
That would be hella sweet.
No sarcastic remarks.
Geez!
I must be ill.
I have a thing with photographing reflections. It's my thang. Thing.. thang... hm.
Okay not really.
Damn, I sure could go for some chapstick.
That would be hella sweet.
04 September 2006
Molasses Swamp
I've been stuck. Like the little yellow gingerbread man peice stuck on the red square in Molasses Swamp. I speak of Candyland, of course. My mind is a conundrum right now. Steve Irwin dies, I have yet to decide what I want to be for Halloween this year, and I haven't finished my summer reading. I am a mess. How will I get out of this candy muck? Am I ruined for life?
Well, the whole Steve Irwin thing, it was bound to happen right? I didn't expect him to be killed by a short-tailed stingray though, more like a crocodile. His title just pronounces how his death will be. "Crocodile Hunter" would be the huntee of a crocodile, an ironic death makes more sense right? I feel bad for the guy. To have a barb lodged into your heart? Dreadful, I say. Well, he lived his life too far on the edge, and the animal kingdom wins. Learn ye lesson young folk who wish to taunt animals for the sake of some "educational" televison show.
Irwin's death doesn't bother me much, but the fact that Halloween or (for the Mexican population) Dia De Los Muertos is next month does. The ritual of the young or old dress up in a costume and smack on some candy. What am I to be this year?! I'm stuck on a few choices:
1. A skeleton
2. Velma Dinkley from Scooby-Doo
3. A member of Devo
4. Batman
It will come to me.The choice will come, and it shall be amazing.
Oh and the whole summer reading thing. Screw it. School starts tomorrow and I don't give a damn that I barely read anything this summer. I'm supposed to be dumb anyways. The smart switch will flick on, probably by next week. Too much education, at once, will probably kill me.
Well, the whole Steve Irwin thing, it was bound to happen right? I didn't expect him to be killed by a short-tailed stingray though, more like a crocodile. His title just pronounces how his death will be. "Crocodile Hunter" would be the huntee of a crocodile, an ironic death makes more sense right? I feel bad for the guy. To have a barb lodged into your heart? Dreadful, I say. Well, he lived his life too far on the edge, and the animal kingdom wins. Learn ye lesson young folk who wish to taunt animals for the sake of some "educational" televison show.
Irwin's death doesn't bother me much, but the fact that Halloween or (for the Mexican population) Dia De Los Muertos is next month does. The ritual of the young or old dress up in a costume and smack on some candy. What am I to be this year?! I'm stuck on a few choices:
1. A skeleton
2. Velma Dinkley from Scooby-Doo
3. A member of Devo
4. Batman
It will come to me.The choice will come, and it shall be amazing.
Oh and the whole summer reading thing. Screw it. School starts tomorrow and I don't give a damn that I barely read anything this summer. I'm supposed to be dumb anyways. The smart switch will flick on, probably by next week. Too much education, at once, will probably kill me.
This post is dedicated to:
Stephen Robert Irwin
R.I.P.
Stephen Robert Irwin
R.I.P.
29 August 2006
l'histoire de la family
I feel pretty accomplished, I finally figured out how to download music from Myspace. From Myspace! The place for friends! I'm a real wizard for figuring that out, yes indeed.
I've noticed that school is coming up. Exactly a week away. I don't know how I like the fast approach, but I suppose receiving some "edjamacation" is a lot better than laying on your comfortable couch and staring at your humongous television all day. I'm pretty good at that. I wonder if I can do that for a career. If there is a job like that, I'll so drop out of school right now. Right now.
Better yet, being paid twenty bucks an hour playing Tetris everyday for the rest of my life would be a good enough career for me. I'll drop out of school for that too. Yeah, awesome.
Now to end this lame post with something consisting the words "You" and "Tube".
I've decided, this is what I want to do with the rest of my life. Well, after I drop out of high school before my senior year even begins. Drink beer and dance around like a German slut to Tetris music. OH and with some random fern head dude.
I've noticed that school is coming up. Exactly a week away. I don't know how I like the fast approach, but I suppose receiving some "edjamacation" is a lot better than laying on your comfortable couch and staring at your humongous television all day. I'm pretty good at that. I wonder if I can do that for a career. If there is a job like that, I'll so drop out of school right now. Right now.
Better yet, being paid twenty bucks an hour playing Tetris everyday for the rest of my life would be a good enough career for me. I'll drop out of school for that too. Yeah, awesome.
Now to end this lame post with something consisting the words "You" and "Tube".
I've decided, this is what I want to do with the rest of my life. Well, after I drop out of high school before my senior year even begins. Drink beer and dance around like a German slut to Tetris music. OH and with some random fern head dude.
25 August 2006
Eyeballz Eyeballz Eyeballz
So today I went to the optometrist, you know, to get my eyes checked and what not. It wasn't a very successful appointment, and I'm afraid that I have regretted a choice I had made.
Why is that in any doctor's office you go to, you feel so awkward and out of place? Doctor's are totally ain't my thang, I respect them, I just can't stand them. I learned that I'm a boring patient, or at least a pussy. Gosh, I hate that word, but anyways, I suck at making conversation. I feel so horrible for every doctor and assistant that helps with my needs. All the awkward silences and I can't even ask the stupid generic question "Any fun plans for the weekend?".
While my mother was getting her eyes checked, I was just picking out some new frames. You know, that whole chestnut. Well anyways, just sitting there with some lady assistant gal that seemed nice and fun, and I couldn't make any form of communication. She tried to kill the silence, but I obviously cannot carry on a conversation. I sat there trying on the same pair of frames over and over and twiddling my thumbs. I felt sorry for the poor girl, to have to wait on some boring kid.
I wanted to ask her "Do you like your job?" or "How old are you?", but you know, this gal (a.k.a. me) is too shy for that.
Oh and the doctor! I had a different doctor take care of me, and he made me feel so nervous. He got mad at me that I didn't bring in my contacts. How was I supposed to know that I was to bring both, glasses and contacts? I figured that if I came for new glasses, I'll just wear my glasses. Excuse me mister! Excuse me for not thinking clearly. *sigh* He also went on this huge lecture on how I'm not wearing my two week contacts properly. I felt like a dumb idiot for sure, and the whole dilating my pupils thing. Gah, don't even get my started on that!
I was hoping to get a certain pair of cat eye frame like Vera Wang frames, but instead I got these Vera Wang glasses. Not this colour though, they're tortoise. Yes yes, now imagine me wearing them and tell me I look fabulous.
Well, enough of my day and almost being practically blind and dilated. I'm going to go watch SNL with some yummy chinese food filled with MSG!
Why is that in any doctor's office you go to, you feel so awkward and out of place? Doctor's are totally ain't my thang, I respect them, I just can't stand them. I learned that I'm a boring patient, or at least a pussy. Gosh, I hate that word, but anyways, I suck at making conversation. I feel so horrible for every doctor and assistant that helps with my needs. All the awkward silences and I can't even ask the stupid generic question "Any fun plans for the weekend?".
While my mother was getting her eyes checked, I was just picking out some new frames. You know, that whole chestnut. Well anyways, just sitting there with some lady assistant gal that seemed nice and fun, and I couldn't make any form of communication. She tried to kill the silence, but I obviously cannot carry on a conversation. I sat there trying on the same pair of frames over and over and twiddling my thumbs. I felt sorry for the poor girl, to have to wait on some boring kid.
I wanted to ask her "Do you like your job?" or "How old are you?", but you know, this gal (a.k.a. me) is too shy for that.
Oh and the doctor! I had a different doctor take care of me, and he made me feel so nervous. He got mad at me that I didn't bring in my contacts. How was I supposed to know that I was to bring both, glasses and contacts? I figured that if I came for new glasses, I'll just wear my glasses. Excuse me mister! Excuse me for not thinking clearly. *sigh* He also went on this huge lecture on how I'm not wearing my two week contacts properly. I felt like a dumb idiot for sure, and the whole dilating my pupils thing. Gah, don't even get my started on that!
I was hoping to get a certain pair of cat eye frame like Vera Wang frames, but instead I got these Vera Wang glasses. Not this colour though, they're tortoise. Yes yes, now imagine me wearing them and tell me I look fabulous.
Well, enough of my day and almost being practically blind and dilated. I'm going to go watch SNL with some yummy chinese food filled with MSG!
21 August 2006
Realization
As the minutes progress. As the days go past. As I realize, I have more and more issues.
I'm trying to stick to this blog. I'm trying to commit to something. To anything actually. Since I was a kid, I've always had the problem of not finishing anything I start. Nobody has ever told me to never stop. Nobody has ever told me to finish things. I seem to quit at everything except breathing. It's kind of a hypocritical contradiction.
I am determined to continue with this blog and make it worth while to read. I am determined to make this fun. I am determined to not suck at life.
Actually, that is happening right now.
Well, it's time for a change. Fourrealz dawg.
First things first, get this damn mouse fixed.
I'm trying to stick to this blog. I'm trying to commit to something. To anything actually. Since I was a kid, I've always had the problem of not finishing anything I start. Nobody has ever told me to never stop. Nobody has ever told me to finish things. I seem to quit at everything except breathing. It's kind of a hypocritical contradiction.
I am determined to continue with this blog and make it worth while to read. I am determined to make this fun. I am determined to not suck at life.
Actually, that is happening right now.
Well, it's time for a change. Fourrealz dawg.
First things first, get this damn mouse fixed.
05 August 2006
So it begins...
I never thought I would be getting one of these things. Wow.
Well, actually I don't see what the big fuss is. I have a Xanga. Private. Online. Journal. Or is it a blog? Is it the same thing? Maybe it's not. Actually I don't think it is. I suppose it doesn't matter.
I'll keep the flow of words going. Typing out fragmented sentences is how I roll.
I suppose this is not even making any sense. I'm quite possibly making a fool of myself.
So, the beginning. How did I come to this? Eh, I'm not exactly sure. I attempt at making a 'zine and I attempt at making an online comic. I'm not a very commited person. I'm just going to attempt at this blog. Try. Commit. Do something damnit!
As Tim Gunn once said, "Make it work!"
I'll make this shit work baby.
Well, actually I don't see what the big fuss is. I have a Xanga. Private. Online. Journal. Or is it a blog? Is it the same thing? Maybe it's not. Actually I don't think it is. I suppose it doesn't matter.
I'll keep the flow of words going. Typing out fragmented sentences is how I roll.
I suppose this is not even making any sense. I'm quite possibly making a fool of myself.
So, the beginning. How did I come to this? Eh, I'm not exactly sure. I attempt at making a 'zine and I attempt at making an online comic. I'm not a very commited person. I'm just going to attempt at this blog. Try. Commit. Do something damnit!
As Tim Gunn once said, "Make it work!"
I'll make this shit work baby.
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