I'm blogging at school! I'm BLOGGING at SCHOOL, people!
In case you don't remember, high school is a little bit like being in a low security prison. Obviously, laptops are off-limits. However, our S.T.A.R class (the fancy pants name for study hall) randomly got a bunch of laptops, and our teacher lets us use them as much as we want.
So, I'm BLOGGING in SCHOOL! And I just think it's a miracle.
This morning, in first hour, we got CAKE, because my band teacher got Secondary Teacher Of The Year, so we got CAKE. It was YUMMY. We also got punch, but it wasn't actually punch. I'm pretty sure it was just cherry water. I drank it anyway because I can and who's gonna miss out on a chance to drink punch in band?
It's FRIDAY. FRIDAY. Being in school makes you love Fridays even more because teachers are a little more lenient and everybody's thinking about their weekend plans and all that jazz. I'm super-duper-extra-terrestrial-excited because *insert squealy valley girl voice here* I'M GOING TO A BIRTHDAY PARTAY! Yay me. *uninsert squealy valley girl voice here*
I swear I was gonna talk about something else...and as soon as I publish this it'll come back to me...well, the bell's about to ring anyway.
Abuhhhhbye.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Lalalalallalalalala."
^^^I can't think of anything and I have like two minutes (or ten).
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
My Legs! What Did You Do With My Legs?
Okay, so here's Tha Deal (Tha Deal, people, she's about to reveal THA DEAL).
My legs KILL. That's it.
Swimming season just ended, y'know? So I have NO means of exercise. And I have too much energy. I've started relieving this energy in nonconstructive ways, such as ninja-sprinting through the clothing section at Wal-Mart while giggling madly and almost running people over. I'm pretty sure there are four random Wal-Mart-goers that hate me now.
Anyway, yesterday, I randomly decided on the way home from Wal-Mart...hey, I should run. I haven't run since Thanksgiving. Let's RUN! And I got all motivated, like, "Oh my god I just can't wait to run and I haven't run in such a long time I JUST CAN'T WAIT TO RUN! DAD, DO YOU WANT TO COME WITH ME?" After dragging my dad into it, I got my shoes and stuff on, and set out into the thirty degree weather for a lovely evening jog.
We walk up The Hill Of Death to The Warm Up Street and stretch, running down The Warm Up Street to warm up (see where it gets its name?) and getting all started. Suddenly, my feet feel like I'm jogging motivated-ly through frozen mud. The arches of my feet start throbbing, and my ankles feel kind of like a bunch of very strong four-year-olds are whacking them with those little plastic hammers. My lungs are full of freezing icicles, and my shoulders feel like somebody tied cinder blocks to them.
Suddenly, I'm not so motivated anymore.
So we're jogging. We're jogging. I'm dying, so I ramble to keep from thinking about how I'm going to die from all this wonderful exercise. It starts to get dark.
Now, we live kind of Out There. Not in the middle of One-Horse, One-Dog, One-Flea Town Out There, but pretty Out There. We get deer and stuff.
We're jogging. Last stretch comes, and it's pretty much pitch-black.
Then.
I hear rustling in the bushes.
I stare, wide-eyed into the darkness like you do when you wanna see something in the dark (never works, either), and see nothing. I glance at my father, jogging bravely onward. I follow, positive a rabid bear with foaming jaws and fiery red eyes is gonna jump out and eat us.
We got home safely, without any bear attacks. But if we'd seen a bear, I totally would've pwned it. No doubt about it.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Things are gonna happen, naturally."
Title: You And I Both.
Artist: Jason Mraz.
^^^I love him I love him I love him. He is fantastically talented. Right up there with Michael Buble (with an accent on the e).
My legs KILL. That's it.
Swimming season just ended, y'know? So I have NO means of exercise. And I have too much energy. I've started relieving this energy in nonconstructive ways, such as ninja-sprinting through the clothing section at Wal-Mart while giggling madly and almost running people over. I'm pretty sure there are four random Wal-Mart-goers that hate me now.
Anyway, yesterday, I randomly decided on the way home from Wal-Mart...hey, I should run. I haven't run since Thanksgiving. Let's RUN! And I got all motivated, like, "Oh my god I just can't wait to run and I haven't run in such a long time I JUST CAN'T WAIT TO RUN! DAD, DO YOU WANT TO COME WITH ME?" After dragging my dad into it, I got my shoes and stuff on, and set out into the thirty degree weather for a lovely evening jog.
We walk up The Hill Of Death to The Warm Up Street and stretch, running down The Warm Up Street to warm up (see where it gets its name?) and getting all started. Suddenly, my feet feel like I'm jogging motivated-ly through frozen mud. The arches of my feet start throbbing, and my ankles feel kind of like a bunch of very strong four-year-olds are whacking them with those little plastic hammers. My lungs are full of freezing icicles, and my shoulders feel like somebody tied cinder blocks to them.
Suddenly, I'm not so motivated anymore.
So we're jogging. We're jogging. I'm dying, so I ramble to keep from thinking about how I'm going to die from all this wonderful exercise. It starts to get dark.
Now, we live kind of Out There. Not in the middle of One-Horse, One-Dog, One-Flea Town Out There, but pretty Out There. We get deer and stuff.
We're jogging. Last stretch comes, and it's pretty much pitch-black.
Then.
I hear rustling in the bushes.
I stare, wide-eyed into the darkness like you do when you wanna see something in the dark (never works, either), and see nothing. I glance at my father, jogging bravely onward. I follow, positive a rabid bear with foaming jaws and fiery red eyes is gonna jump out and eat us.
We got home safely, without any bear attacks. But if we'd seen a bear, I totally would've pwned it. No doubt about it.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Things are gonna happen, naturally."
Title: You And I Both.
Artist: Jason Mraz.
^^^I love him I love him I love him. He is fantastically talented. Right up there with Michael Buble (with an accent on the e).
Monday, February 22, 2010
Houston, We Have A Problem. I Thought Your Name Was Johnny.
So here's the problem. Y'know that big long story I was talking about? Well, I wrote it, because I keep a blog going on Facebook as well as this one (that's right. Envy my ninja powers), and it turned out to be REALLY boring. Like, textbook boring. I didn't even make any critical observations! I stared at my screen in horror and clicked "Publish" anyway because I was tired and it took me forever to write.
The Final Decision: I'll just recount the funny, generally awesome parts. Or maybe I'll end up recounting the whole thing but trying to make it exciting with lots of exaggerations and probably some pirates.
Here's the story. I went to State for swimming as an alternate. State is like the big-shot, big-time, best-of-the-best-of-the-best. This is why I went as an alternate. Not quite even sure why I was chosen. But hell, I'm not complaining.
So we left on Thursday, in the morning on a charter bus, without even going to school. I got a four day weekend. Ha. Haha. HAHAHA.
Gloating over.
Two of my favorite funny things happened at Italian restaurants. I don't know what it is with those people, but for some reason good things happen around twenty teenage girls and their coaches. One of our coaches is the diving coach, and he's likes to torture us girls. So EVERY restaurant we went to, he'd roll up his straw and throw it at me, then pretend it wasn't him.
"DARRELL!"
"Whaaaat?"
Then, on the way home, I threw a bag of mixed nuts at him and he threw it back, and I threw it BACK...then I'm pretty sure our coach told him to stop because he's a party pooper and he wanted to watch Indiana Jones even though it was much bloodier and disgusting-er than I remember.
ANYWAY. Back to the Italians.
The first night, we went to this tiny place called Franchesco's. Now, this place truly was tiny. It was independently owned, and about the size of my living room. We had the wrong number, so we couldn't call ahead, and these poor people had one cook and one waitress and were NOT prepared for us. The cook had to call in her husband, the owner (who, for some bizarre reason, is NOT named Franchesco), and he had to bring in all his kids and everybody. It took two hours to finally get our food (poor waitress...). This other girl and I got served last. Sooooo...
Waiter/Owner: Who got the last two plates of Fettuccine Alfredo?
Me and That Other Girl: *Raises hands*
Waiter/Owner: THEN YOU GET A FLYING MONKEY.
He gave us each an actual flying monkey. Like, one of those stuffed ones that you stretch out and let go and when it hits something it screams? It was pretty fantastic. Kyle and Kyle (the assistant coaches...yes, those are their names) shot them at each other.
Next.
The Awesome Italian Guy.
We went to Macaroni Grill, and after we'd been served and everything, we looked up and saw this waiter guy, and he LOOKED Italian with his curly dark hair, and he just started singing in Italian. Just randomly, in the middle of the restaurant. He had this GORGEOUS tenor voice, and I think my feet melted into a puddle under the table. When he finished, all of us girls applauded wildly and he said,
"Best audience I ever had."
Uh-huh. Uh-huh.
He sang twice more for us. I wanted a picture with him, but he left. Then I got very depressed and went into my corner to cry but my dessert came and I had to eat it or the Apocalypse would come.
I'm going to go back someday and take him home with me and keep him forever.
Shh, don't tell my boyfriend.
FLYING MONKEY WAR!!!
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can."
Title: Everything.
Artist: Michael Buble.
^^^P.S. There's actually an accent over his name somewhere...and I usually don't do mushy-gushy song quotes, but this song is just the sweetest song ever! It gives me cavities to listen to it (sweet, cavities, get it? HahahahahahahaaSHUT UP, I'M TIRED)...And Monsieur Buble has the most gorgeous voice...Anyway, it's just adorable, and I kinda wanna take him home too, so he can provide background music with Italian restaurant guy while Mozart and I are hangin.'
The Final Decision: I'll just recount the funny, generally awesome parts. Or maybe I'll end up recounting the whole thing but trying to make it exciting with lots of exaggerations and probably some pirates.
Here's the story. I went to State for swimming as an alternate. State is like the big-shot, big-time, best-of-the-best-of-the-best. This is why I went as an alternate. Not quite even sure why I was chosen. But hell, I'm not complaining.
So we left on Thursday, in the morning on a charter bus, without even going to school. I got a four day weekend. Ha. Haha. HAHAHA.
Gloating over.
Two of my favorite funny things happened at Italian restaurants. I don't know what it is with those people, but for some reason good things happen around twenty teenage girls and their coaches. One of our coaches is the diving coach, and he's likes to torture us girls. So EVERY restaurant we went to, he'd roll up his straw and throw it at me, then pretend it wasn't him.
"DARRELL!"
"Whaaaat?"
Then, on the way home, I threw a bag of mixed nuts at him and he threw it back, and I threw it BACK...then I'm pretty sure our coach told him to stop because he's a party pooper and he wanted to watch Indiana Jones even though it was much bloodier and disgusting-er than I remember.
ANYWAY. Back to the Italians.
The first night, we went to this tiny place called Franchesco's. Now, this place truly was tiny. It was independently owned, and about the size of my living room. We had the wrong number, so we couldn't call ahead, and these poor people had one cook and one waitress and were NOT prepared for us. The cook had to call in her husband, the owner (who, for some bizarre reason, is NOT named Franchesco), and he had to bring in all his kids and everybody. It took two hours to finally get our food (poor waitress...). This other girl and I got served last. Sooooo...
Waiter/Owner: Who got the last two plates of Fettuccine Alfredo?
Me and That Other Girl: *Raises hands*
Waiter/Owner: THEN YOU GET A FLYING MONKEY.
He gave us each an actual flying monkey. Like, one of those stuffed ones that you stretch out and let go and when it hits something it screams? It was pretty fantastic. Kyle and Kyle (the assistant coaches...yes, those are their names) shot them at each other.
Next.
The Awesome Italian Guy.
We went to Macaroni Grill, and after we'd been served and everything, we looked up and saw this waiter guy, and he LOOKED Italian with his curly dark hair, and he just started singing in Italian. Just randomly, in the middle of the restaurant. He had this GORGEOUS tenor voice, and I think my feet melted into a puddle under the table. When he finished, all of us girls applauded wildly and he said,
"Best audience I ever had."
Uh-huh. Uh-huh.
He sang twice more for us. I wanted a picture with him, but he left. Then I got very depressed and went into my corner to cry but my dessert came and I had to eat it or the Apocalypse would come.
I'm going to go back someday and take him home with me and keep him forever.
Shh, don't tell my boyfriend.
FLYING MONKEY WAR!!!
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can."
Title: Everything.
Artist: Michael Buble.
^^^P.S. There's actually an accent over his name somewhere...and I usually don't do mushy-gushy song quotes, but this song is just the sweetest song ever! It gives me cavities to listen to it (sweet, cavities, get it? HahahahahahahaaSHUT UP, I'M TIRED)...And Monsieur Buble has the most gorgeous voice...Anyway, it's just adorable, and I kinda wanna take him home too, so he can provide background music with Italian restaurant guy while Mozart and I are hangin.'
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Procrastination Is Really A Delicate Process.
And it should not be done by anyone other than a professional.
Which includes me. I have a degree and four Olympic medals in Procrastinating.
SO! I have two stories to tell you, one of which is very long and descriptive and basically a very detailed recounting of one of my recent experiences. It could be epic. Or very boring. The other is short, pointless, and can be pushed and pulled and exaggerated and hyperbole-ized into oblivion. So I'm gonna go with that one first.
Vital Information: My Science teacher is a zombie. Really. And she looks like a Who. No serious offense to her, but it's just a fact of life. Anyway. She teaches her class with the skills of an elementary student. She's a nice enough person if you can get her to talk about something other than Science. But that's the only non-zombie/Who thing about her.
The Assignment: Write Results, Discussion, Conclusions, Bibliography, and Abstract of Science Project.
Science Project: Absolute Hell. I decided I was going to test the effects of energy drinks on physical performance (not that. RUNNING). It was not a good idea.
Back to The Assignment From Satan. Anyway, all those things I just listed are basically the same thing over and over. Just different lengths. The Results are IN the Discussion and the Conclusion, and the Abstract is a summary of your Conclusion, and the Bibliography is where you got the information for La Project Of HORRIDAWFULDISGUSTINGNESS.
I've been sitting here for an hour. I wrote my Results and part of my Discussion. Then, I realized, ohmygosh, I haven't read Hyperbole And A Half (best blog ever. And a half) in forever. I read all her (meaning Allie, meaning the author) recent posts. Then, I decided I wanted to listen to music. So I spent ten minutes trying to find the damn headphone hole in the computer and logging onto Pandora (they've started putting ADS in between your songs, DID YOU KNOW THAT??? I've lost faith in the online music industry for about five minutes...). Then I decided I needed to write a blog, because WHAT IF PEOPLE WANNA READ IT? I haven't posted anything in days, and you all know how the blogging industry needs my posts (PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAno).
Procrastination requires a certain skill. And that skill is suppressing the guilt reflex properly. As you procrastinate, you realize..."My work is NOT getting done." And then the little devil and the little angel appear on your shoulder and you look at the devil and she grins at you in her little red dress and says, "Hey, girlfriend. You're hungry, you really have to pee, Blogspot is calling you...you've been gone all weekend, dear, you should get some rest. This stuff can wait. You don't care about it anyway, do you?" And the angel in her white nun's habit robe thing adjusts her halo and says in a British accent, "Don't listen to her! You need a good grade in this class! Are you an honors student or aren't you?" And then you flick her wings and say,
"Psh, bitch, I want me some Cheez-its."
Then you go get Cheez-its, cause you're hungry and the calzones won't be ready for a couple hours.
While all this is going on, you're texting your boyfriend named Mozart and singing along with Michelle Branch and Toby Lightman and sometimes Metallica.
Meanwhile, you realize that the Red Bull you tested earlier for your experiment actually kind of worked and suddenly Lady Marmalade (the song that taught us all to say "Will you go to bed with me?" in French) comes on your iPod and if you don't sing along and do some sort of stripper dance then the world will fall into the hands of zombies like your Science teacher.
It's a no brainer, really.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir."
Title: Lady Marmalade.
Artist: Christina Aguilera, Pink, Mya, Lil' Kim.
Which includes me. I have a degree and four Olympic medals in Procrastinating.
SO! I have two stories to tell you, one of which is very long and descriptive and basically a very detailed recounting of one of my recent experiences. It could be epic. Or very boring. The other is short, pointless, and can be pushed and pulled and exaggerated and hyperbole-ized into oblivion. So I'm gonna go with that one first.
Vital Information: My Science teacher is a zombie. Really. And she looks like a Who. No serious offense to her, but it's just a fact of life. Anyway. She teaches her class with the skills of an elementary student. She's a nice enough person if you can get her to talk about something other than Science. But that's the only non-zombie/Who thing about her.
The Assignment: Write Results, Discussion, Conclusions, Bibliography, and Abstract of Science Project.
Science Project: Absolute Hell. I decided I was going to test the effects of energy drinks on physical performance (not that. RUNNING). It was not a good idea.
Back to The Assignment From Satan. Anyway, all those things I just listed are basically the same thing over and over. Just different lengths. The Results are IN the Discussion and the Conclusion, and the Abstract is a summary of your Conclusion, and the Bibliography is where you got the information for La Project Of HORRIDAWFULDISGUSTINGNESS.
I've been sitting here for an hour. I wrote my Results and part of my Discussion. Then, I realized, ohmygosh, I haven't read Hyperbole And A Half (best blog ever. And a half) in forever. I read all her (meaning Allie, meaning the author) recent posts. Then, I decided I wanted to listen to music. So I spent ten minutes trying to find the damn headphone hole in the computer and logging onto Pandora (they've started putting ADS in between your songs, DID YOU KNOW THAT??? I've lost faith in the online music industry for about five minutes...). Then I decided I needed to write a blog, because WHAT IF PEOPLE WANNA READ IT? I haven't posted anything in days, and you all know how the blogging industry needs my posts (PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAno).
Procrastination requires a certain skill. And that skill is suppressing the guilt reflex properly. As you procrastinate, you realize..."My work is NOT getting done." And then the little devil and the little angel appear on your shoulder and you look at the devil and she grins at you in her little red dress and says, "Hey, girlfriend. You're hungry, you really have to pee, Blogspot is calling you...you've been gone all weekend, dear, you should get some rest. This stuff can wait. You don't care about it anyway, do you?" And the angel in her white nun's habit robe thing adjusts her halo and says in a British accent, "Don't listen to her! You need a good grade in this class! Are you an honors student or aren't you?" And then you flick her wings and say,
"Psh, bitch, I want me some Cheez-its."
Then you go get Cheez-its, cause you're hungry and the calzones won't be ready for a couple hours.
While all this is going on, you're texting your boyfriend named Mozart and singing along with Michelle Branch and Toby Lightman and sometimes Metallica.
Meanwhile, you realize that the Red Bull you tested earlier for your experiment actually kind of worked and suddenly Lady Marmalade (the song that taught us all to say "Will you go to bed with me?" in French) comes on your iPod and if you don't sing along and do some sort of stripper dance then the world will fall into the hands of zombies like your Science teacher.
It's a no brainer, really.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir."
Title: Lady Marmalade.
Artist: Christina Aguilera, Pink, Mya, Lil' Kim.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
It's Valentine's Day Eve!
Aren't you excited?
Tomorrow is the day when singles from all over the nation get together for Hating The Couples parties. Burn pictures of your exes! Eat lots of chocolate and cookie dough! Drink wine! Talk about how much you hate Valentine's Day!
So, I went on Google to find out what to get my boyfriend for Valentine's Day (aren't we just so cute, exchanging gifts in the hallway between classes?). Turns out, EVERYBODY has this problem and they all say the same thing: CDs, chocolate, cologne, or shirts. Hmm. Last Minute Gifts: 1. Creativity: 0. At least I'm not alone in this.
A girl on the swim team made a bunch of little owls for all of us. They are the best things ever. JUST LOOK:
Mine is light blue and dark blue. His name is Walter. I love him. There's also Lucille, Kitty, and a few others...
Also, we did this thing called "capping" where a bunch of us get in a circle in the water, grab hold of a swim cap (the stretchy things swimmers wear on their heads) and dunk it under the water and back up, stretching it. Then a person jumps in it. We managed to fit three of us in there before it broke. It was pretty fantastic.
I was going to say something else. I was. Goddangit.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Believe me, you never met a motherfucker like me."
Title: Invincible.
Artist: Adelitas Way.
^^^P.S. Best song EVER to have in your head for a race or some contest that requires battle music.
Tomorrow is the day when singles from all over the nation get together for Hating The Couples parties. Burn pictures of your exes! Eat lots of chocolate and cookie dough! Drink wine! Talk about how much you hate Valentine's Day!
So, I went on Google to find out what to get my boyfriend for Valentine's Day (aren't we just so cute, exchanging gifts in the hallway between classes?). Turns out, EVERYBODY has this problem and they all say the same thing: CDs, chocolate, cologne, or shirts. Hmm. Last Minute Gifts: 1. Creativity: 0. At least I'm not alone in this.
A girl on the swim team made a bunch of little owls for all of us. They are the best things ever. JUST LOOK:
Mine is light blue and dark blue. His name is Walter. I love him. There's also Lucille, Kitty, and a few others...
Also, we did this thing called "capping" where a bunch of us get in a circle in the water, grab hold of a swim cap (the stretchy things swimmers wear on their heads) and dunk it under the water and back up, stretching it. Then a person jumps in it. We managed to fit three of us in there before it broke. It was pretty fantastic.
I was going to say something else. I was. Goddangit.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Believe me, you never met a motherfucker like me."
Title: Invincible.
Artist: Adelitas Way.
^^^P.S. Best song EVER to have in your head for a race or some contest that requires battle music.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Due To Overextensive Hugging, Will Not Be Going To School Today.
I have exciting things to say.
Many of them are trivial, but I will try to make them as painless as possible.
Here's the story:
My best friend's name is Richard Clayborne Barnard II. This is not a lie. That is his actual name. He goes by Clay. But I call him Mozart, because he writes music in class out of his head like a fucking genius.
I've known him for seven years.
Our friends have been giving us crap about him being a boy and me being a girl and us not going out for seven years.
Today he asked me out.
All our friends reactions, plus our mothers': "FINALLY."
All in all, good day. Good day.
So. Superbowl. Remember how I was talking about awesome babies? And how I hang out with THEM at the Superbowl parties? Well, here's the thing about babies. They grow. And the adorable little three-year-old I babysat that one time is now a scary four-year-old who is in that phase where he thinks he is the king of the world and everything else. He's still sweet, but I, being an inexperienced teenager, freak out when he doesn't like what I'm doing. We were playing with Legos in the host's child's room, and when four-year-old got up to get a soda, I followed.
Four-year-old: NO! You stay here. I'll be back. *closes door*
Feeling a little like a prisoner, I follow him anyway. He sees me and says,
"I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THERE!"
Eventually, I extract myself from him, and hide between my parents while they make fun of me for being defeated by a four-year-old.
I also ate lots of food and I'm pretty sure gained a few billion pounds. In a good way.
I forgot what else I wanted to talk about, so here is a picture of a cat.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "No better way to brighten my day than you."
Title; Brighten.
Artist; Colton and Zara.
^^^I canNOT get this song out of my head no matter how hard I try.
Many of them are trivial, but I will try to make them as painless as possible.
Here's the story:
My best friend's name is Richard Clayborne Barnard II. This is not a lie. That is his actual name. He goes by Clay. But I call him Mozart, because he writes music in class out of his head like a fucking genius.
I've known him for seven years.
Our friends have been giving us crap about him being a boy and me being a girl and us not going out for seven years.
Today he asked me out.
All our friends reactions, plus our mothers': "FINALLY."
All in all, good day. Good day.
So. Superbowl. Remember how I was talking about awesome babies? And how I hang out with THEM at the Superbowl parties? Well, here's the thing about babies. They grow. And the adorable little three-year-old I babysat that one time is now a scary four-year-old who is in that phase where he thinks he is the king of the world and everything else. He's still sweet, but I, being an inexperienced teenager, freak out when he doesn't like what I'm doing. We were playing with Legos in the host's child's room, and when four-year-old got up to get a soda, I followed.
Four-year-old: NO! You stay here. I'll be back. *closes door*
Feeling a little like a prisoner, I follow him anyway. He sees me and says,
"I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THERE!"
Eventually, I extract myself from him, and hide between my parents while they make fun of me for being defeated by a four-year-old.
I also ate lots of food and I'm pretty sure gained a few billion pounds. In a good way.
I forgot what else I wanted to talk about, so here is a picture of a cat.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "No better way to brighten my day than you."
Title; Brighten.
Artist; Colton and Zara.
^^^I canNOT get this song out of my head no matter how hard I try.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Rawr, Ashton Kutcher Is My Boytoy.
I was watching SNL last night, and I discovered something. The writers are seriously going downhill. Like, they've turned into one of those snowballs that cartoon characters push down hills and they just get bigger and bigger and bigger until they crush somebody. Only, instead of a snowball, it's a bunch of writers. And instead of a hill, it's a fucking MOUNTAIN.
I mean, they had ASHTON KUTCHER on there last night. Besides being the equivalent of a chocolate truffle in yumminess, he has so much comedic potential! They had so many opportunities! But all they did were stupid little skits that were, honestly, TERRIBLE. It makes me cry inside. Especially since I only just started watching it last year because of my tender age and "innocent" mind that my parents didn't want tainted. Fortunately, junior high and high school taint even the most innocent mind quickly enough that you can watch SNL and laugh. Or you COULD, ten years ago. NOT ANYMORE, BUDDY! The best I saw was a rerun of Will Ferrell classics, summer last year. He's no chocolate truffle, but he handles the stupid and ridiculous very well.
The best part of last night's episode was when Monsieur Kutcher ripped his pants off to reveal very tight leopard-printed underwear. They should ALWAYS have him rip his pants off. Rawrrr.
DAD, YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT! ;)
Tonight is the Superbowl! And, I am a little sorry to admit, I don't even know who's playing. I apologize, football fans. I almost regret not becoming interested in football. It seems to be everybody's backup topic. When all else fails and things become awkward, talk sports. They have rules and regulations, and you can easily discuss them, etc. I will be going to a par-tay at my mother's friend's house. I will eat delicious crap and watch commercials and play with the guests children and pick up babysitting jobs. Also, I enjoy the company of the babies. They don't judge you, and don't get mad at you unless you take their toys or anything. Sometimes they get mad when you don't understand them. They're pretty awesome, though. I think they may be geniuses in disguise who read minds.
Example:
Now there's a pretty awesome baby.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me."
Title: Unwell.
Artist; Matchbox Twenty.
I mean, they had ASHTON KUTCHER on there last night. Besides being the equivalent of a chocolate truffle in yumminess, he has so much comedic potential! They had so many opportunities! But all they did were stupid little skits that were, honestly, TERRIBLE. It makes me cry inside. Especially since I only just started watching it last year because of my tender age and "innocent" mind that my parents didn't want tainted. Fortunately, junior high and high school taint even the most innocent mind quickly enough that you can watch SNL and laugh. Or you COULD, ten years ago. NOT ANYMORE, BUDDY! The best I saw was a rerun of Will Ferrell classics, summer last year. He's no chocolate truffle, but he handles the stupid and ridiculous very well.
The best part of last night's episode was when Monsieur Kutcher ripped his pants off to reveal very tight leopard-printed underwear. They should ALWAYS have him rip his pants off. Rawrrr.
DAD, YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT! ;)
Tonight is the Superbowl! And, I am a little sorry to admit, I don't even know who's playing. I apologize, football fans. I almost regret not becoming interested in football. It seems to be everybody's backup topic. When all else fails and things become awkward, talk sports. They have rules and regulations, and you can easily discuss them, etc. I will be going to a par-tay at my mother's friend's house. I will eat delicious crap and watch commercials and play with the guests children and pick up babysitting jobs. Also, I enjoy the company of the babies. They don't judge you, and don't get mad at you unless you take their toys or anything. Sometimes they get mad when you don't understand them. They're pretty awesome, though. I think they may be geniuses in disguise who read minds.
Example:
Now there's a pretty awesome baby.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Stay a while and maybe then you'll see a different side of me."
Title: Unwell.
Artist; Matchbox Twenty.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I Live In A Freezer.
Seriously, how cold does it have to be kept in the basement? Negative four? That's what it feels like. I came down here to try out the new computer and fudge around with my pictures, and I have my comforter and my hood up and I probably need gloves because of my deteriorating finger dexterity. Now I'm gonna get frostbite and my fingers will fall off and I'll have to type blogs with my toes. You'll have to learn toe language, too, so start studying.
Guess what? I'M A NINJA. So is the rest of our swim team. We are ninjas because...we went to a meet yesterday. Oh, but not just any ordinary meet. C.O.C, a.k.a, a giant meet that we need to win (haha, I used two abbreviations in that sentence. Yay me. Also, I'd just like to point out the irony in how long the word "abbreviations" actually is compared with its definition). Not only did we win it...we made it back in time to be fashionably late (meaning, like, an hour) to winter homecoming and still look awesome. And that is the ninjaness of the girls' swim team.
Even though we all still had our events written on our arms and smelled like chlorine. But we don't talk about that.
I have a picture of my snowman for you!
He's wearing my favorite scarf ever. Now, he's kinda melting...but while the rest of my yard turns green, he remains. HE'S A SURVIVOR! A FUCKING SURVIVOR, PEOPLE! Like me, this morning, when my friend's dog jumped on my face while I was sleeping and scratched my forehead into submission. It didn't feel good. But her mom got doughnuts and it was all better.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "You start to wonder why you're here, not there."
Title; Stop And Stare.
Artist; One Republic.
Guess what? I'M A NINJA. So is the rest of our swim team. We are ninjas because...we went to a meet yesterday. Oh, but not just any ordinary meet. C.O.C, a.k.a, a giant meet that we need to win (haha, I used two abbreviations in that sentence. Yay me. Also, I'd just like to point out the irony in how long the word "abbreviations" actually is compared with its definition). Not only did we win it...we made it back in time to be fashionably late (meaning, like, an hour) to winter homecoming and still look awesome. And that is the ninjaness of the girls' swim team.
Even though we all still had our events written on our arms and smelled like chlorine. But we don't talk about that.
I have a picture of my snowman for you!
He's wearing my favorite scarf ever. Now, he's kinda melting...but while the rest of my yard turns green, he remains. HE'S A SURVIVOR! A FUCKING SURVIVOR, PEOPLE! Like me, this morning, when my friend's dog jumped on my face while I was sleeping and scratched my forehead into submission. It didn't feel good. But her mom got doughnuts and it was all better.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "You start to wonder why you're here, not there."
Title; Stop And Stare.
Artist; One Republic.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Why, Exactly, Does Opossum Have A Silent "O" In Front Of It?
Orthodontists are immortal. They are. When the world ends in 2012 (har har), the orthodontists will survive. Because they can use their evil tools of orthodontia to battle the zombie apocalypse. They can stretch their lips back and bombard them with X-rays and glue braces to their eyeballs while they sleep! THEY WILL CHARGE THE ZOMBIES THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS TO FIX THEIR TEETH SO THEY CAN EAT BRAINS PROPERLY!
Yesterday, I went to the orthodontist. Now, I don't usually go. My teeth are pretty much awesome. I'm just shockingly lucky. I only floss like, once; right before we go. So. I got there, and brushed my teeth in the sink with those toothbrushes that have built in toothpaste that tastes like plastic and the aftertaste you get after you eat candy or drink water from a plastic bottle.
Then, a very short, rotund woman came to me and my mother with a clipboard and told me to follow her. We did. Then I put all my crap in a chair and she hung a vest on me with a giant smiley face on it (ohhh, irony...), and made me bite something while this monster camera thing revolved around my head and took pictures of my teeth. They always tell you to hold still, and when you concentrate on holding still, you suddenly CAN'T. I felt like I was earth, and the moon was revolving around me while a massive earthquake was going on.
She then took pictures of my face, which I'm sure was lovely since I had come straight from school and I had High School Gunk on my face (which sounds SO dirty, but really it means I just have zits and oily skin). Then I sat in a chair and stared mournfully at my cherry slushie that my mother was holding for me.
Next...I had to take impressions. Now, if you have not had impressions, by my age, ALL your friends have gotten them at some point, and they tell you horror stories about them, like the putty stuff goes down your throat or it tastes bad, or whatever. Basically, I was kind of freaking out. I thought I was going to choke on it and die, or that it was going to pull out all my teeth at the same time and I'd go around being called Pirate Sam or something and never be able to say my S's right because I'd have no teeth.
She mixed together this lavender-colored paste (after stretching my lips apart with these little rod thingies and taking MORE pictures) and scooped it into a tray thingie and shoved it in my mouth and pressed it into my teeth and held it there for a minute. It tasted faintly of cinnamon and concrete. I tried not to drool, either, but it was kind of unavoidable.
She had to do my top teeth next, which was a little scary. She pressed it to my teeth, and it went a little far back into my mouth. Suddenly, I realized...I had to swallow (my GOD this could sound dirty). But I didn't want to swallow the concrete stuff...what if it was poisonous or something??? So I sat there, silently about to choke on my own spit and die. Finally, she popped it out and there was a cast of my teeth in purple. Hoo-rah.
And I got to drink my slushie.
Adventure of the night: My mother made me take the dog out. I was afraid the opossum I told you about last night would come back. I was positive that I'd go out there, and see it, and yell at it, and it would be like "THERE'S NO MORE CAT FOOD FOR ME TO STEAL" and I'd be like "GO AWAY" and it would be like "I WILL EAT YOUR LEGS INSTEAD" and since I was wearing my mom's slip on shoes I wouldn't be able to run away so it would follow me and eat my ankles. I put on a hoodie, and, armed with a Barbie umbrella, I walked outside in the dark and the absolutely FRIGID cold. I screamed as loudly as I could,
"I'M WATCHING YOU, OPOSSUM!"
When nothing answered, I took my dog into the yard, waving the umbrella and silently telling the opossum to go die. Doggie did her business, I nearly froze to death, but the opossum never showed.
That's right, opossum. You don't fuck with me and my Barbie umbrella.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Lose your blues."
Title: Footloose.
Artist; Kenny Loggins.
^^Okay, I tried to find good lyrics from A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton because that song is STUCK IN MY HEAD! But I didn't really like any of them so I chose a random song and this one is an oldie but a goodie.
Yesterday, I went to the orthodontist. Now, I don't usually go. My teeth are pretty much awesome. I'm just shockingly lucky. I only floss like, once; right before we go. So. I got there, and brushed my teeth in the sink with those toothbrushes that have built in toothpaste that tastes like plastic and the aftertaste you get after you eat candy or drink water from a plastic bottle.
Then, a very short, rotund woman came to me and my mother with a clipboard and told me to follow her. We did. Then I put all my crap in a chair and she hung a vest on me with a giant smiley face on it (ohhh, irony...), and made me bite something while this monster camera thing revolved around my head and took pictures of my teeth. They always tell you to hold still, and when you concentrate on holding still, you suddenly CAN'T. I felt like I was earth, and the moon was revolving around me while a massive earthquake was going on.
She then took pictures of my face, which I'm sure was lovely since I had come straight from school and I had High School Gunk on my face (which sounds SO dirty, but really it means I just have zits and oily skin). Then I sat in a chair and stared mournfully at my cherry slushie that my mother was holding for me.
Next...I had to take impressions. Now, if you have not had impressions, by my age, ALL your friends have gotten them at some point, and they tell you horror stories about them, like the putty stuff goes down your throat or it tastes bad, or whatever. Basically, I was kind of freaking out. I thought I was going to choke on it and die, or that it was going to pull out all my teeth at the same time and I'd go around being called Pirate Sam or something and never be able to say my S's right because I'd have no teeth.
She mixed together this lavender-colored paste (after stretching my lips apart with these little rod thingies and taking MORE pictures) and scooped it into a tray thingie and shoved it in my mouth and pressed it into my teeth and held it there for a minute. It tasted faintly of cinnamon and concrete. I tried not to drool, either, but it was kind of unavoidable.
She had to do my top teeth next, which was a little scary. She pressed it to my teeth, and it went a little far back into my mouth. Suddenly, I realized...I had to swallow (my GOD this could sound dirty). But I didn't want to swallow the concrete stuff...what if it was poisonous or something??? So I sat there, silently about to choke on my own spit and die. Finally, she popped it out and there was a cast of my teeth in purple. Hoo-rah.
And I got to drink my slushie.
Adventure of the night: My mother made me take the dog out. I was afraid the opossum I told you about last night would come back. I was positive that I'd go out there, and see it, and yell at it, and it would be like "THERE'S NO MORE CAT FOOD FOR ME TO STEAL" and I'd be like "GO AWAY" and it would be like "I WILL EAT YOUR LEGS INSTEAD" and since I was wearing my mom's slip on shoes I wouldn't be able to run away so it would follow me and eat my ankles. I put on a hoodie, and, armed with a Barbie umbrella, I walked outside in the dark and the absolutely FRIGID cold. I screamed as loudly as I could,
"I'M WATCHING YOU, OPOSSUM!"
When nothing answered, I took my dog into the yard, waving the umbrella and silently telling the opossum to go die. Doggie did her business, I nearly froze to death, but the opossum never showed.
That's right, opossum. You don't fuck with me and my Barbie umbrella.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "Lose your blues."
Title: Footloose.
Artist; Kenny Loggins.
^^Okay, I tried to find good lyrics from A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton because that song is STUCK IN MY HEAD! But I didn't really like any of them so I chose a random song and this one is an oldie but a goodie.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
And The Jello Turned Into Mr. Tumnus And Asked Me To Make Him A Sandwich.
Today I tried Monster for the first time ever.
It tastes like cough syrup and Alka seltzer mixed together. But some people like it, apparently? Are my taste buds just not cool enough for energy drinks?
Maybe they're just too refined. So hah.
We had pictures today at swimming. We got there and stripped down to our team suits, which are super tight for racing and basically like wearing a straw. I was the first one to take a picture, so I sat down on the diving block (those things they put at the end of a lane that you dive off of at the beginning of a race), stretched one leg out like the photographer said, and bent the other to rest on the block. That was when I realized...I HADN'T SHAVED MY LEGS IN WEEKS!
It's winter, okay? And I had a really bad razor burn on both my legs earlier this month! (grumble grumble) But, it was too late. So I kept my pose and grinned.
Twenty years from now, my children are going to look at that picture and ask me,
"Mommy, why is there a bear wrapped around your legs?"
I will tell them his name is Fred.
My father was taking the dog out just now, and he saw an opossum! We live out in the middle of almost nowhere (meaning we have neighbors, but also a tiny bit of acreage). He walked right past it, he said, and he walked back in and it was staring at him from the PORCH. Naturally, all of us ran to the door and stood, looking for it. And by all of us, I mean my mom. My brother, dad, and I all stood back. My sister pretended to be brave. It had run away, but now I'm terrified that a giant rat creature is going to come into my room at night somehow and eat me. Also, my brother is making opossum noises, but they sound more like a Nazgul (spelling?) from the Lord Of The Rings.
Also, I've been writing a blog on Facebook for the past year, and my titles typically have nothing to do with what I talk about in the blog itself.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "May you never take one single breath for granted."
Title: I Hope You Dance.
Artist: Lee Ann Womack.
^^^P.S. I don't like country music. At all. I think it's The Black Plague for your ears. But I LOVE the lyrics to this song. And I won't be passing up good lyrics.
It tastes like cough syrup and Alka seltzer mixed together. But some people like it, apparently? Are my taste buds just not cool enough for energy drinks?
Maybe they're just too refined. So hah.
We had pictures today at swimming. We got there and stripped down to our team suits, which are super tight for racing and basically like wearing a straw. I was the first one to take a picture, so I sat down on the diving block (those things they put at the end of a lane that you dive off of at the beginning of a race), stretched one leg out like the photographer said, and bent the other to rest on the block. That was when I realized...I HADN'T SHAVED MY LEGS IN WEEKS!
It's winter, okay? And I had a really bad razor burn on both my legs earlier this month! (grumble grumble) But, it was too late. So I kept my pose and grinned.
Twenty years from now, my children are going to look at that picture and ask me,
"Mommy, why is there a bear wrapped around your legs?"
I will tell them his name is Fred.
My father was taking the dog out just now, and he saw an opossum! We live out in the middle of almost nowhere (meaning we have neighbors, but also a tiny bit of acreage). He walked right past it, he said, and he walked back in and it was staring at him from the PORCH. Naturally, all of us ran to the door and stood, looking for it. And by all of us, I mean my mom. My brother, dad, and I all stood back. My sister pretended to be brave. It had run away, but now I'm terrified that a giant rat creature is going to come into my room at night somehow and eat me. Also, my brother is making opossum noises, but they sound more like a Nazgul (spelling?) from the Lord Of The Rings.
Also, I've been writing a blog on Facebook for the past year, and my titles typically have nothing to do with what I talk about in the blog itself.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note: "May you never take one single breath for granted."
Title: I Hope You Dance.
Artist: Lee Ann Womack.
^^^P.S. I don't like country music. At all. I think it's The Black Plague for your ears. But I LOVE the lyrics to this song. And I won't be passing up good lyrics.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
My Expression Is Not BLANK, It's...Calculating.
Today was a day of epic things.
Sort of.
The snow was melting, and it was at that stage where if you just poke it, it'll pack together. So I started making a snowman. I'd just planned it to be a little, rollrollroll, packpackpack, stackstackstack kinda deal. But it turned into this hour-long QUEST to build the most epically awesome snowman ever.
In the end, he was as tall as my shoulder, I needed my eleven-year-old brother's help to lift his body, he was wearing earmuffs and a piano scarf with hair made of clover and a baby carrot nose and rock eyes and a stick mouth. I was very proud of him. I've decided to name him Howard Munselfrumple the first.
Soon after that I had to go do more of my science project and swim, so I had to eat something. I had fifteen minutes. So this is what I did. I call it The Epic Sandwich.
You need:
One piece o'ham.
One piece o'American cheese.
One egg.
Two pieces o'bread. I used whole wheat.
Mayonnaise.
Cajun spice (you could also use salt, or nothing).
I think that's it!
Fry the egg. Leave the yolk runny. Or don't, whatever. I like it...runny. Why does that sound dirty? ANYWAY. Put the cajun/salt/nothing on it. Do NOT forget to spray the pan, or you will be putting egg shavings scraped from the pan on your sandwich. Put the cheese on the egg while it's in the pan if you want it melted. Toast the bread, put mayonnaise (I put a ton. Me likey me mayonnaise) on one slice. Or both. Put the ham on top, and the cheeseified egg. Put the other slice of bread on top. Now eat it. Voila!
And THAT is The Epic Sandwich. Once, my dad made the egg for me, and when I bit into the sandwich, the yolk exploded all over my hands. Now THAT is an egg.
Warning: Complaints imminent.
I am ANGRY with Apple. The Apple company that makes computers, iPods, etc? I sent my iPod Touch in to get fixed, because I was having horrid problems with the headphone jack. I was still under warranty, and I sent in the receipt, too, to prove it. As it turns out, it's nearly IMPOSSIBLE to get your iPod fixed for free, unless you just get a faulty iPod. They wouldn't fix it. Apple needs to invent something INVINCIBLE for those of us without the hand-eye coordination that is apparently necessary to own one of these things. I put it in my lap, it drops. I put it on the table so it won't drop, it drops. I hold it in my FIST so it doesn't drop, I DROP IT. They need to make something and call it the Clutz. I'd buy it. And it wouldn't die, because it would be invincible. That's my dream. That one day the world will make an electric device that can handle ME.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of The Note: "Why the hell are you so sad?"
Title: Makes You Happy.
Artist; Sheryl Crow.
Sort of.
The snow was melting, and it was at that stage where if you just poke it, it'll pack together. So I started making a snowman. I'd just planned it to be a little, rollrollroll, packpackpack, stackstackstack kinda deal. But it turned into this hour-long QUEST to build the most epically awesome snowman ever.
In the end, he was as tall as my shoulder, I needed my eleven-year-old brother's help to lift his body, he was wearing earmuffs and a piano scarf with hair made of clover and a baby carrot nose and rock eyes and a stick mouth. I was very proud of him. I've decided to name him Howard Munselfrumple the first.
Soon after that I had to go do more of my science project and swim, so I had to eat something. I had fifteen minutes. So this is what I did. I call it The Epic Sandwich.
You need:
One piece o'ham.
One piece o'American cheese.
One egg.
Two pieces o'bread. I used whole wheat.
Mayonnaise.
Cajun spice (you could also use salt, or nothing).
I think that's it!
Fry the egg. Leave the yolk runny. Or don't, whatever. I like it...runny. Why does that sound dirty? ANYWAY. Put the cajun/salt/nothing on it. Do NOT forget to spray the pan, or you will be putting egg shavings scraped from the pan on your sandwich. Put the cheese on the egg while it's in the pan if you want it melted. Toast the bread, put mayonnaise (I put a ton. Me likey me mayonnaise) on one slice. Or both. Put the ham on top, and the cheeseified egg. Put the other slice of bread on top. Now eat it. Voila!
And THAT is The Epic Sandwich. Once, my dad made the egg for me, and when I bit into the sandwich, the yolk exploded all over my hands. Now THAT is an egg.
Warning: Complaints imminent.
I am ANGRY with Apple. The Apple company that makes computers, iPods, etc? I sent my iPod Touch in to get fixed, because I was having horrid problems with the headphone jack. I was still under warranty, and I sent in the receipt, too, to prove it. As it turns out, it's nearly IMPOSSIBLE to get your iPod fixed for free, unless you just get a faulty iPod. They wouldn't fix it. Apple needs to invent something INVINCIBLE for those of us without the hand-eye coordination that is apparently necessary to own one of these things. I put it in my lap, it drops. I put it on the table so it won't drop, it drops. I hold it in my FIST so it doesn't drop, I DROP IT. They need to make something and call it the Clutz. I'd buy it. And it wouldn't die, because it would be invincible. That's my dream. That one day the world will make an electric device that can handle ME.
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of The Note: "Why the hell are you so sad?"
Title: Makes You Happy.
Artist; Sheryl Crow.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Don't Ask Me How The Penguins Got Involved.
Today, I had an adventure with Red Bull. Although it wasn't so much an adventure as an opportunity to complain and whine and bitch. AND WHO'S GONNA MISS AN OPPORTUNITY TO DO THAT?
So. I'd never had a Red Bull before, except for a taste of Red Bull Cola, which tastes like a liquefied doughnut in a bad way. Red Bull seems to have a talent for tasting like liquefied sweet things, because this regular Red Bull tasted like a Fruit Roll-Up, only put in a blender with carbonated water on "puree." I had to drink it for an experiment. To see if energy drinks turn you into zombies. I've heard they do.
No, really. I had to test the effects of energy drinks on physical performance (running) for la clase de ciencas. My "subject" and I both recorded how Red Bull affected us. Let me tell you this. It does not give you wings. Or if it does, it's for two seconds and then they pluck your feathers and shoot you. My head started to feel like it was stuffed with cotton and being smacked with a board. Then, my eyes started hurting and it took effort to move them. There wasn't any SOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR and then KER-ASH. There was just a giant KERRRR-ASHASHASHHHHH. Also, I'm sure there was a small Kaboom.
Swimming practice today, we swam with pantyhose and sneakers on.
Weirdest. Thing. Ever. It's like being a mermaid with a drag chute. Try it sometime.
Plus, it was pajama day. But I always feel like an outcast when I participate in these themes during "Spirit Week" because everybody thinks they're Entirely Too Awesome to join in the amazing chance to wear fuzzy pants. Or they forget.
Explanation Of Title: There isn't one. I just wanted to say "penguins."
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note (Of Note. Get it? I make PUNS!): "It takes a crane to build a crane."
Title: Life Is Wonderful.
Artist: Jason Mraz.
^^^P.S. I love him. I'm going to marry him. And our children will be beautiful and have voices that will make people fall at their feet begging "LET ME BE YOUR SERVANT!" Yes.
So. I'd never had a Red Bull before, except for a taste of Red Bull Cola, which tastes like a liquefied doughnut in a bad way. Red Bull seems to have a talent for tasting like liquefied sweet things, because this regular Red Bull tasted like a Fruit Roll-Up, only put in a blender with carbonated water on "puree." I had to drink it for an experiment. To see if energy drinks turn you into zombies. I've heard they do.
No, really. I had to test the effects of energy drinks on physical performance (running) for la clase de ciencas. My "subject" and I both recorded how Red Bull affected us. Let me tell you this. It does not give you wings. Or if it does, it's for two seconds and then they pluck your feathers and shoot you. My head started to feel like it was stuffed with cotton and being smacked with a board. Then, my eyes started hurting and it took effort to move them. There wasn't any SOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR and then KER-ASH. There was just a giant KERRRR-ASHASHASHHHHH. Also, I'm sure there was a small Kaboom.
Swimming practice today, we swam with pantyhose and sneakers on.
Weirdest. Thing. Ever. It's like being a mermaid with a drag chute. Try it sometime.
Plus, it was pajama day. But I always feel like an outcast when I participate in these themes during "Spirit Week" because everybody thinks they're Entirely Too Awesome to join in the amazing chance to wear fuzzy pants. Or they forget.
Explanation Of Title: There isn't one. I just wanted to say "penguins."
Love
Love
Love
Samm
Song Quote Of Note (Of Note. Get it? I make PUNS!): "It takes a crane to build a crane."
Title: Life Is Wonderful.
Artist: Jason Mraz.
^^^P.S. I love him. I'm going to marry him. And our children will be beautiful and have voices that will make people fall at their feet begging "LET ME BE YOUR SERVANT!" Yes.
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