(And not at all figuratively, either. Brad spilled Tostito's on the floor. Thus the broom metaphor..uh.. works both ways.. uhm. ... actually, I'm going to bed now. To uh, cease with this.. rambling. In fact, though, this entire entry resembles *quite* strongly my interview with Sarah for her Family Studies Class:
"Yeah, so like.. I was like uhm, in school and stuff and it was like -- I think it was -- well, it was sort of like a .. weird thing.. and my teacher, uhm, was like a uh... sort of like an old saggy, bitchy hag and stuff.. and she like.. .. was like.. y'know.. and like, stuff..uhm, and uhhhhhh... sort of .... "
No joke. And Sarah had to type this out --- this hour long conversation seriously consisting of me talking and talking and talking very badly.
She hates me now. )
Saturday, November 10, 200103:55 a.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
..::: - & - :::..
So very pissed off..
'Member all those former references I've given about me becoming a scary old lady with lots of cats and a broom?
Right.. well, I'm currently at the stage where I'm ready to grab said broom and chase =insert person's name= around with it in a frenzy of crazy-lady-madness.
If that makes sense.
Blah.
Saturday, November 10, 200112:58 a.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
Of course, the above "everyone was doing it" excuse was responsible for the following, also: spandex; my country music obsession; my sailor suits; my humiliating myself on stage wearing crotchless black stirrup pants. (the crotchless part being, of course, woefully unexpected). Unfortunately, the excuse doesn't apply to my shortlived crush on Dwight Yoakam. Thats right, folks. The King of the Tight Jeans and Trailer Queens. And the mullet. And the guitar. And the yodelling, annoying voice of his. For a small period of time... but rather then continue on about my embarrassing crushes on people who are later on humiliatingly silly and/or tacky..
My results for the quiz:
60 points is in the 51 through 80 precent
You are a dedicated weblogger. You post frequently because you enjoy weblogging a lot, yet you still manage to have a social life. You're the best kind of weblogger. Way to go!
Heh heh... social life?!?
Friday, November 9, 200109:38 p.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
There is Michael Jackson.. but besides that. (Or, Michael Jackson participating in a Karaoke Day. That mental image is much too scary for words. I'm guessing that it would look something akin to a corpse grabbing itself whilst singing a really bad rendition of 'To Sir With Love'.)
But even without the decomposing King of Pop, the assembly in the gym and subsequent cracked voices were still terrifying. Suvi dragged me into it after paying for me; and plus some people that we knew were going to be singing California Dreamin' by the Mama's and the Papa's. (At the end of their song one of them yelled, "And to think -- it all ended with a ham sandwich." I laughed. Suvi laughed. The surrounding jocks scratched their heads and asked her to remove her shirt.)
I always feel bad for that nerdy kid though.. the one that decides ever so foolishly to encroach on the so-called "popular" territory and participate in horrific days such as these. This year; there were 2, skinny, pasty children who simply had to choose songs from the 1960's and sing them either with overt passion, or mousy; timid reluctance.
And then, there was the nerd who picked the hoedown. I cringed for Nerd-dom, I truly did. Everyone sat in stunned silence as the girl ran up on stage and started throwing herself into an old-fashioned square dance session.
"Alas", her set was cut short. Although, it was noticed that all of the non-popular people's sets were cut short. The jocks who went up on stage received 5 minutes in which to impersonate Geri Halliwell to a heart-wrenching rendition of 'Its Raining Men'. Stupendously frightening, indeed.
And no test today! Woo! Test on Monday. Which means, even though I have three days in which to study, I'll procrastinate until its 2 seconds before said test.
Friday, November 9, 200101:47 p.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
..::: - & - :::..
Me and my depressing design abyss
Blah. I'm not sure I like this layout either.. but I think its better then the last one at the very least.
And hopefully it will tide me over until next week when I redesign again. Ergh.
I have this catastrophic test on the oh-so exciting world of 'The Great Gatsby' tomorrow. This is my prediction about what will happen:
THE TEST:
Print your name: __________________
With pen in hand, I pause and stare blankly at the paper. Quizzically continuing to eye the paper, I raise my arm, grab the teacher's attention and ask her, "Yeah, so uhm, by "print", do you mean I have to do this test on the computer?"
Then all will laugh. And several of the other internet-community students in my class will cower beside their papers, thankful I rose my hand before they did. Then they will also laugh and point.
And I will fail. Or; most likely, become a rich and famous online author who mocks them and throws eggs at their trailers and inbred, four-armed children.
Or, not.
Friday, November 9, 200102:21 a.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
I simply can't seem to find that happy medium between skill and thought.
I reiterate; shoot me.
Friday, November 9, 200101:24 a.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
..::: - & - :::..
Me, as a feverish debater
So, you ask, how did one such as I come to be one such as them, them being that sometimes pasty group of nerds known as 'The Debating Club'...
First of all, it seemed the next natural step. Afterall, there's the glasses, the sensitivity to bright sunlight, the whole computer thing.. the list goes on. I'm already a nerd. I may as well round the whole thing off with a good heapin' pile of polite arguing.
Or, if the polite thing doesn't work, loud, psychotic insults directed at scores of frightened opponents.
Or whining; pleas sent with winks towards Mister Speaker.
It all started on Wednesday, when after much pushing and prodding and insistence, Gen and Alicia, already members of the club themselves, managed to half-drag me up the stairs to the debate room to "watch."
Somehow, the planned idea failed with the same amount of un-success as the steak I attempted to cook last night. (More on that later, too.)
Before I knew it the debate teacher (who looks startingly a lot like Tony the Tiger, even though he has no stripes and/or orange anything.) was pointing at me saying, "So you guys'll be team 1."
I nodded.
Surveyed the room.
Inwardly screamed and welcomed many mental images of me making pathetic arguments in front of small, sickly schoolchildren; my face tomato paste red, my voice speaking with the speech impediment I had in Grade One... ("Hello Mistew Speakew. My name is Sawa Sovewin.")
Outwardly, my hand somehow signed the paper, and I was in.
Then, I discovered that I wouldn't be debating with the group of meek looking grade niner's around me; but at an interschool debate featuring lots and lots and lots of people.
I'm soooooo excited.
Unfortunately, there's that thing I have to do -- that busy thing.. that prevents me from showing up at said interschool debate.. y'know.. that thing that involves me locking myself in a bomb shelter and praying to the debating God that a giant law is passed that prevents any and all interschool debates from ever happening whilst I'm in the debate club.
Yeah. That event.
Shame, really. But.. prior committments..
Also, the steak I cooked last night ... right. Sooooo.. did you guys know that salting a frozen steak pre-cook isn't really good? We were stabbing our meat with giant butcher knives. And I now have no teeth.
And, another thing -- I got 3 =count'em= 3 awards for achievement night. Their for all the easy courses though. Its kind of like getting an award for "Spec Ed" .. or "Participation".
One for last year's Honour Roll (Ah, the intelligent days..), Grade 12 Peer Helping, and Grade 12 Creative Process.. don't really know what thats for.. I'm guessing its kind of like a, "Congratulations, you can string a sentence together" award. Or actually, I have no idea. At any rate.. I'm probably not attending the ceremony. My entire life's amount of ceremonies were paid for when I attended my high school graduation. Yep.
That night also paid for my entire life's worth of wearing hats with tassels. Don't ever have to do that again.
Thursday, November 8, 200110:55 p.m.
listening to; The Trick Is To Keep Breathing / Garbage
reading; The Illustrated Book Of Myths by Neil Philip. (Hey, it may be for ages 9 - 12, but I can deal with my illiteracy.
