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Nov. 3rd, 2009

(no subject)

What bullshit is this?

Apparently "dungeon" is an archaic term for "donjon" according to the dictionary.

Webster's dictionary defines....

Oct. 11th, 2009

(no subject)

So I wanted to sleep on the plane. So I traveled in my pajamas. Makes sense, right? But apparently that makes you suspicious to the airport security. I was patted down and all. Which is awkward, if it's never happened to you. And moreover, I see no benefit. How would it help them find a gun on you? If I did have a gun, I would certainly hide it someplace they wouldn't be able to find if they patted me down. Well... Okay, nevermind. We wont go into that...

Dwight: Oscar, have you ever pooped a balloon?

If you haven't watched The Office this week... Eeeeek!! So cute.

But now that that's over, The Office has kind of lost some of it's charm. I'll still watch it, of course. But now it's kind of like a "watch it three days later on TiVo when you remember about it" show. Not an "oh my god it's 8:00, The Office will be on in an hour" show. You know? Maybe you don't know...

*tangent terminated*

Back to my original point, the pajamas didn't help me sleep on the plane. I was squished between two fat guys in the middle row. Not cool, man. Not cool.

Yeah, that's what I get for forgetting to check-in 24 hours before my flight. But who does that? Seriously?

So I'm in a B&B. It's cute. :)

My Nana got me Water for Elephants, which is my kind of book, since it's about the circus! So yeah, I'm going to go do that.

Later, dudes.

p.s. My Nana calls the person who rides shotgun the "Naggrivator." How cool is that? But we have deemed that Julia (our GPS system--who has a British accent) is the new Naggrivator. She does both far more navigating and far more aggravating than I.

Sep. 26th, 2009

(no subject)

blah blah blah blah blah

Aug. 29th, 2009

(no subject)

I have already started half-assing things, and procrastinating.
That's not supposed to start until at least a couple of weeks into the school year.

And I'm really distracted by a lot of things currently. I'm sick. (But getting better.) I'm trying to make my best friend stay my best friend, because I seem to be screwing up a lot with her. I'm trying to figure out what to do with this boy in Ecuador. Not sure what's going on there. I'm trying to memorize this stupid poem that I should've had done weeks ago.

If I could rewind to about two weeks ago. Yeah, two weeks ago. Two week ago was great. And I would definitely consider doing some things differently in the following two weeks.

And I fucking hate thinking about college. I'm really starting to fucking hate the concept of college. I don't even want to go to college anymore, just because everyone makes such a big deal out of it. I just want to tell them to shut the fuck up. It's a fucking school. It doesn't actually really matter that much where you end up. It's not like it's going to ruin your whole life if you have a few shitty years at college, or if you get a slightly less prestigious degree than the next guy.

But I hate high school right now too.

Okay that was my big rant.

I want some chocolate.

Aug. 14th, 2009

(no subject)

Fuck! I´m lost in Ecuador. Apparently I got off at the wrong bus stop... I´m pretty sure that I´m in the ghetto. I can´t reeally tell. But I think so. And all these weird guys keep trying to talk to me. I had to ignore one of them in three different languages--French, English, and Spanish.

But really. I need to learn Spanish... Like badly.

It would help me avoid many, many awkward conversations...

For instance... There´s this guy. He doesn´t really speak English very well. And, true to form, everything I touch turns to awkward. I´m like King Midas, but with awkwardness. Heh.

An otherwise romantic moment turns to awkward...
Him: (In broken English, with a heavy accent) I want to kiss you.
Me: What? You want to kill me? Why?
Him: No, not kill. I want to kiss you.
Me: Kiss me?
Him: .... Yes.
Me: Oh... Um... Okay.
Him: Can I?
Me: What? Yeah. Sure.

In other news...
Ecuador is pretty sweet. I´d be perfectly happy living here for a few more months, and really really don´t want to leave on Monday. But some of that also might have something to do with the aforementioned boy...

And I´ve barely done ANY French homework. But honestly... I haven´t been procrastinating on it. EVER. My summer has just been ridiculously ridiculous.

And I want to get out of the ghetto. It freaks me out. But I don´t know where the bus stop is. Someone help me!

Jul. 14th, 2009

stupidity is sometimes unavoidable.

Today I was a little out of it as I got on the BART. The first car was pretty empty, and I followed a couple of black guys with bikes into it.
Over the speaker, I heard the driver say, "no whites in the first car."
I looked around and didn't see any other white people. I felt like it was some weird Twilight Zone thing where suddenly we're back in time and the roles are switched and white people have to go to the back of the bus. I stood there looking confused, then decided I better go along with it.
The two guys with bikes followed me into the next car back.
Apparently he said, "no bikes in the first car..."

*

As usual, I got my period at the worst possible time. The day I arrived in Montana. I always manage to get my period while I'm away on vacation. Don't ask me why.
But maybe it had to do the Montana air, because Roxanne and Gina both ended up getting theirs right then, too. Three out of the four of us all had it at the same time. And Kari--the fourth--is the one who actually lives in Montana...
So anyway. We went camping in Yellowstone, and it was beautiful.
But Yellowstone is bear-country.
Which I'm usually not scared of, except for the fact that bears are attracted to menstruation...

Umm I had more to post about. But my college councilor is here. Sorry to leave this at an awkward topic.

And Harry Potter tonight! Yeee. Non-awkwardness.

p.s. We didn't get eaten by bears. For the record.

Jul. 6th, 2009

Brain Goo

Today, I took the wrong bus. Someone told me it was the right bus. But it didn't go where I wanted it to. I kept telling it to, but it didn't.
I was contemplating how I would get home if I got dropped off in the middle of Richmond, because I was also sans cell phone... And then this lovely lady comes up and asks me for directions. Out of all the people on the bus who were completely competent with public transport, she asks me.
This seems to be a trend. People always ask me for directions when I'm in places I'm not acquainted with.

They say that when you realize you are lost, you are supposed to stay where you are so you don't get more lost.
Unfortunately, that doesn't work on buses.

There's a fellow in my class who introduced himself to me as "Prophet."
I looked at him for a minute, and decided there was only one thing to say. So I asked if he had any divine wisdom to pass on to me.
He faltered, then said no, it was spelled P-R-O-F-I-T. Profit.
Then he shook my hand and said, "But you can call me 'Rapper P.'"
Profit, it turns out, is majoring in communications. He wants to be a business man. He calls everyone he meets his 'clientele.' I am now part of his clientele.

He turned to another friend of mine, Eitan, and said, "Hey you like clubbing? We should hit up some bars together. I wanna go meet some people. Gotta expand my clientele.."
Eitan smiled. "I... think... you and I go to different kinds of bars"
"Man, I like all kinds of places. Gotta meet a diversity of people."
"I... go to gay bars."
"Oh. Well that is different. But that's cool man. It's good to have all kinds of people in my clientele."

Profit (aka Rapper P) is really called Jean-Paul.
He wants to go to Stanford.

Eitan likes to use his "coming out" to confuse people.
We were discussing racial profiling, and the teacher called on him, and said, "So Eitan, would you be willing to date a black woman?"
Eitan is, by the way, a skinny little white kid.
And of course he said no.
The class (probably 70% African American) started getting riled up.
But he continued on to say, "I don't date women. Period."
That probably saved his ass. He would've gotten whooped.

Um. So. Yeah. Today's brain goo turned out really weird.

More later.

Jul. 5th, 2009

OH SHIT!

RUPERT GRINT HAS SWINE FLU!

May. 24th, 2009

(no subject)

My dogs ate a tube of glitter. Only the most refined dogs have sparkly poop.

Sometimes I tease my dogs because I have opposable thumbs and they don't.

May. 17th, 2009

(no subject)

I haven't posted in hella days. Mostly because I haven't been spending nearly as much time on the computer procrastinating.

After some careful analysis of the data, I have come to some conclusions. Time spent on the computer ostensibly equals Time spent doing homework. At least, that's what my parents think. But experimentally, Time spent on computer is not in any way proportional to Amount of homework completed. However, I am conducting follow-up experiments to verify if Time spent on computer is directly proportional to Stress levels or perhaps inversely proportional to Happiness. I've hypothesized that this may be the case, but we'll see. Other test subjects would invariably increase the accuracy of my results, so if any of you have your own data to add, we could set up a spreadsheet on Google Docs.

Sorry for that outbreak. It's possible that I've been watching too much of Big Bang Theory...

So it's as hot as a dog's butt in here. As Bernadette's dad would say. Although I wouldn't know...

But I like the heat, as long as we aren't in school. It feels like SUMMER!

My body does a strange thing to counteract stress. As soon as stress reaches a dangerous level, that part of my brain just shuts down and I become really relaxed and calm and everything. It's probably good for emergency situations, but for school and stuff, it's pretty fucked up. I don't get stressed enough to get anything done.

So. Um. I should probably go read Grapes of Wrath and Antigone and do a gazillion other things. Yeah...

May. 13th, 2009

dos rats

:)

May. 5th, 2009

(no subject)

On second thought, maybe it's just an enlarged taste bud.

(no subject)

I had a bump on my tongue that was bothering me so I took some scissors and cut it off.
Now it's bleeding.

I looked up diseases that cause bumps on the tongue. They asked me this: "Do you have any history of sexually transmitted diseases? How about tooth brushing?"

Odd questions to put next to each other... And do I have a history of tooth brushing? I should hope so!

Well, maybe I have herpes, but that's less than likely. Maybe I have Lupus. I don't know what that is, but it sounds like some sort of werewolf disease...

I'm worried I might be becoming a hypochondriac.

(no subject)

I know everyone thinks I'm kidding, but I'm not! I really, really want to join the circus. I think I'm going to take a year off, and I think being in the circus would be the best thing ever. And if you're going to do it, that would be the best time.

Ok, honestly, I'm feeling really spontaneous, and the rational side of my brain is trying really, really hard to keep the other part in check. But if that rational side were just a little bit weaker, I would be on my way to the circus right this second.

I know there are bad sides to the circus, but I feel like it would be a stellar learning experience probably. And all the people who work at the circus have got to be INTERESTING if nothing else. And oh my god you can't understand how excited I am. I would so much rather join the circus than go to college.

The only bad part is the animal abuse. I hate that. But I can't do anything about that.

Ok, I'll shut up... But if you see any circuses around that are hiring, give me a shout, will ya?

May. 3rd, 2009

(no subject)

Question. Can you be depressed without actually being depressed?

* Significant decrease or increase in appetite
* Insomnia or hypersomnia (excessive sleeping) nearly every day
* Feeling restless or sluggish to the point that others notice
* Fatigue or loss of energy
* Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness
* Recurrent thoughts of death (not just fear of dying), recurrent suicidal thoughts without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide
* Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt

I got all of those except the last two. For the most part. No, I have never considered suicide in my life. Don't freak out... But can you be depressed while you're happy?

Mostly I'm trying to figure out the reason why I'm so goddamn sleepy ALL the time. I considered mono, narcolepsy, anemia, swine flu, and African sleeping sickness. (Even though i haven't been bitten by any African parasites lately... but still. Can't rule it out.)

So we'll see.

Even caffeine is losing it's effectiveness.

sigh.

May. 1st, 2009

(no subject)

Pulchritudinous means beautiful.

That seems ironic, considering that's one of the ugliest words I've heard or seen.

Apr. 22nd, 2009

(no subject)

Heehee.
Urban Dictionary describes it so much more accurately: Social Notworking.

Apr. 21st, 2009

facebook withdrawal

Holy shit, my experiment is working.

I've always been aware that I spend too much time on facebook. But I never really comprehended how unproductive it made me. It's the singular best procrastination tool I've ever encountered.

So I deleted it. Deactivated it...

And I've been so much more fucking productive. That shit was ruining my life.

But I wonder how long I can keep it up. A week? A month? Until the end of school? I'll try my best.

In other news, it's fucking hot as hell. For the past couple of days, my house has been so fucking hot that I've just not been wearing any pants. I don't own any shorts. That's embarrassing... So I just wear boxers/underwear. Which I guess maybe should be more embarrassing. But, uh, whatever.

This has nothing to do with anything, but I think that the phrase "Don't harsh my mellow" should definitely be "Don't marsh my mallow."

Well, it has to do with marshmallows. Which are something. Somethings.

Aw man, marshmallows are the best. I wanted to tour the marshmallow factory in NV for the longest time. And then I found out that it exploded. No joke. Esploded. So I was very sad. They rebuilt it, but they don't do tours anymore.

It's called "Favorite Brand Marshmallows" and it's the only marshmallow factory anywhere near the West Coast. You know what that means? They make all of the marshmallows for every brand.

So Jet-Puffed and Western Family (and who knows--maybe even Peeps) are the exact same thing.

Just sayin.

And Peeps. Don't even get me started on Peeps.

And, again unrelatedly, here is an adorable essay from a little boy about his grandparents' retirement home. It made me smile.

We always spent Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live here in a big brick house, but Grandpa go retarded and they moved to Florida. They lived in a place with a lot of retarded people. They live in tin huts. They ride big tricycles. They go to a big building they call a wreck hall. If it was wrecked, it is fixed now.
Tey play games there and do exercises but they don't do them too good. There is a swimming pool there, and they go there just to stand in the water with their hats on. I guess they don't know how to swim.
My grandma used to make cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody cooks there. They all go to fast food restaurants called Early Bird. But I didn't eat any birds. I had eggs.
As you ride into the park, there is a dollhouse with a man sitting in it. He watches all day so they can't get out without him seeing them. They wear name badges with their names on them. I guess they don't know who they are.
My Grandma said Grandpa worked hard all his life and earned retardment. I wish they would move back home, but I guess the man in the dollhouse won't let them out.

Apr. 19th, 2009

(no subject)

My family is the best. Like seriously, I love hanging out with them so much. At least, my family on my mum's side.

I went on a road trip with my mum, my aunt, and my cousin (who's 18). And it totally feels like we're all just really good friends instead of family.

Touring colleges was amazing. I hit up five colleges within 24 hours... And of course, I fell in love with the most expensive one--Reed. Which I could never-ever-in-a-million-years get into or pay for. But I still love it.

And who wouldn't? The buildings look like they're from Harry Potter! Everyone is totally liberal and chill with every kind of people. It's got an amazing campus. And it's not that far from the city. Ideally, I wish it were a little more urban, but it's still pretty fucking rad.

And we had kind of a birthday thing, because it's my birthday next weekend. But my cuz and aunt wanted to celebrate this weekend so we could have fun.

And we did.

Have fun, that is.

We got two ice cream cakes--yes, two for the four of us. And we trashed out hotel room, which is fun. Makes you feel like a rock star.

Someone suggested getting me a tattoo for my birthday. My mum seemed pretty chill with the idea (she wants a tat, too), but I've been debating for years what I want. I really like The Little Prince concept. But we'll see if the idea sticks. Cause once it sticks, it's stuck. You know?

And so, after milling around the tattoo parlor for a little bit, we decided to go the less permanent route, and I got my nose pierced. Whoot.

It's pretty tiny. You can't really see it, but I like it.

Now I'm in the Portland airport again, waiting for my flight. It feels like spring break. Seriously. I never want to go back to school.

And I've decided that I love Oregon. I love the people. I love the weather. I love the buildings. I love the schools. I love that they put cream in their italian sodas. I love the fact that they are stimulating the economy by making it illegal to pump your own gas and therefore providing more jobs. I love the lack of sales tax. I even love the fucking airport, despite having to spend far too much time in it.

Apr. 17th, 2009

(no subject)

I think I might just shoot someone. Really.

This is just a big fat rant. Don't read it. It's not worth your time. But it makes me feel better.

So I came home kinda upset, but my dog greeted me friendly-ly. (Shut up, it's a word.) And I was happy about that. And then I realized that she just wanted the tennis ball out of my hand. Once she had it, she ran away, and left me to wallow. (hehe not really. but wallow is a cool word.)

I was downloading an audiobook onto my ipod right before I had to leave for the airport. I wondered why it was taking so long.
I am a technological fuck-up--a technical fuck-up, if you will--and so I accidentally replaced all my fucking music with this one stupid audiobook because I fail at lice. hah. life. but I'll leave the typo there.

And then my dad got mad at me for taking so long and wouldn't speak to me on the entire drive to the airport.

And then I got to the airport and I remembered that you couldn't bring more than 3.4 ounces of liquid. And I had my shampoo. My nice shampoo. So I thought I was going to be very clever and pour all of it out down the toilet, except for 3.4 ounces. Then they at least wouldn't take ALL of it.

So I felt like an idiot pouring shampoo down the toilet.
I eyeballed 3.4oz. It seemed about right. Even on the light side. Probably not even 3.2oz...

And then they took it anyways. Those bastards. Aaand my toothpaste.

Then I found out my flight was delayed. 40 minutes. Fuuck.

So I went to buy some chocolate to make myself feel better, and by doing so, I somehow lost my boarding pass. I'm such a spazz.

And I went up to the lady at the desk and started crying to make her feel bad for me, and she asked for my ID... But I lost that, too! All I had was this one from 6th grade where I look like a chubby, homicidal grandma. And she was suspicious that it wasn't me. (Okay--one good thing came from today. I got confirmation from a stewardess that I no longer look quite as much like a chubby, homicidal grandma as I did in 6th grade. Only a little bit like that now.)

And I finally got on the plane. And as soon as the seatbelt light went out, the guy sitting next to me left to go to the bathroom or something. But he didn't come back for the entire flight, until we were landing. Jeez. How badly do I smell?

And finally got to Portland. And realized that I forgot the address to my hotel, so I couldn't take a cab there. Because I'm a spazz. (Notice a theme?)

So now I've been stuck in the Portland airport waiting for someone to come pick me up, or at least give me an address or SOMETHING.

Plus I'm on my period.

Bad day.

Better one tomorrow.

Cheerful posts coming. I promise.

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