The Killer's concert!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey, cats. Guess who's going to the Killer's concert tonight? Me. Guess who isn't? Abraham Lincoln. And probably you, too. Sorry. I don't mean to brag, but I had to share. If you ARE going, feel free to say hey at the concert, or at least scream in my face.

WHY? Why, why, why, why, why?

Outre- bizarre, odd, outlandish.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: boys' minds!

OK, MAYBE this is biased, since I am a girl. But let me tell you a story:

I was in history today, and we were picking a restaurant we wanted to go to on our spring field trip. (We are not actually going to a restaurant, sadly; it was part of a lesson on compromises during the making of the Constitution.) The final two, after much ponderous voting, were the California Pizza Kitchen (or something along those lines) and, to my GREAT annoyance, Hooter's.

We were allowed to send up representatives to talk about the restaurants, because the goal was for all of us to agree on one restaurant. Here is the "points" the boy who was sent up as the Hooter's representative made:

"Girls! You can get tips from the waitresses on how to look good! And guys, c'mon! It's HOOTER'S! Why WOULDN'T you want to go?"

At this point, another boy stood up and stated:

"And if you order extra wings, the waitresses will bring more and have to bend over to serve them! Get what I'm saying?"

My teacher then replied:

"(Insert name here), this is me, standing on the clear line of appropriateness. And there's you, standing waaaaay over on the other side."

But this seemed a little untrue to me, as my teacher was the one who suggested this stupid restaurant in the first place. How depressing. 

So, though I was cracking up at the sheer stupidity of it, at the same time, I was furious! The sexist pigs! I do NOT want some useless advice from a bunch of ditsy mid-twenties girls who only have experience in wearing ridiculously tight shirts and balancing trays on their arms! And the guys.... oh, how sad. How terribly, horribly sad. If we peered into their minds, all we would see is images of hot wings and pretty girls. At least, that's what it would be like in the minds of the eighth grade boys at GMS. 

When I told my mom this story, she informed me that they were not being perverted or sexist. They were just being boys. She said that no matter how old they are, this trait lives on in them forever. WELL! That's great. Fantastic. I will be surrounded my entire life by a gender obsessed with food and beautiful, golden hair. Joy.

The Great Blogzini predicts: Your spirit shall be channeled through a payphone. Or is it just your voice?

We Got The Beat!

Cadence- rhythm, beat, accent of sound, etc.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: babies!

Before I start my ranting, a few updates need announcing:

1.) The poll, "Who would you be in The Great Toilet Paper Debacle (see entry titled T.P. Time)" is now closed. Apparently, most of you would be Eugene, some of you would be the Woman, and none of you would be Mr. Manager! C'mon now, be honest; NO ONE out there would be this guy who faints when he discovers his toilet paper is not designed? I don't believe it.

2.) A new poll is up. The question is "If it were raining cats and dogs, what would you do?" Please vote and show how random you are!

3.) My hit counter has reached 200!!! Way to click, guys. You rock my socks.

4.) I have added two new gadgets to my sidebar at your right. ALL the way at the bottom of the bar... keep going... keep going... there you are! There are some Random Facts there and, my personal favorite, Things to Ponder. That's fun. It COULD inspire some entries later on...

Ok, NOW the ranting shall begin. So, babies... right. Yeah, according to FOX17 News last night, scientists ran some tests on newborn babies and analyzed their brainwaves (the official way, not the way I did it a few posts ago). They played a song for them, but intentionally left out a note to see if the babies would notice. Apparently, they did. Hip hip hoorah. Babies can keep a beat! This is greater than sliced bread!

I want to know whose babies they were testing. Honestly! (Wow, I say "honestly" a lot. Sorry.) Who would actually say yes if a scientist came to their house and said that they wanted to run some tests on your child? Hmm? This is an excellent chance for some dialog, but I feel I have done a little much of that lately. So, sorry if that entertains you; maybe you should actually let me know, if you like it so much.

If babies can keep a beat and expect the right notes and all that, then what would happen if we played a bunch of different songs at once? Would they get eternally confused? Would they pick one song and block the rest out? If so, how would they pick if their musical opinions have not yet been influenced? Maybe their small-ish minds would just get overloaded and they would go into sleep mode. Oh... now I am talking about that them like they are computers. My bad.

Hey, COMPLETE change of subject! My mom just saw a super fat robin outside and said it looked like it was on steroids. I then felt inclined to inform her that I had seen a robin a few days ago that resembled a teapot. I wonder what is making them so fat; maybe they have opened their own birdy version of that fine Scottish establishment, McDonald's.

The Great Blogzini predicts: When you attempt to eat your lunch, you shall be attacked by angry mustard packets. But no fear! Ketchupboy is on the way!

Dialogs ARE Fun, Aren't They?

Because I'm bored, here's some lovely dialog to go along with the last entry:

Security Guard 1: Hola, me amigo! Como estas?

Security Guard 2: ... What?

Security Guard 1: C'mon man, keep up! Its simple Spanish!

Security Guard 2: DUDE! I'm learning French! Duh!

Security Guard 1: Maybe so, but EVERYONE should know what "como estas" means!

Security Guard 2: Do YOU know what it means?

Security Guard 1: ... Well... of course! It means... it means...

Security Guard 1 very obviously turns to his computer and goes to a translation website.

Security Guard 1: It means "How are you?" Ooooooh!

Security Guard 2: Hey! You looked it up! Cheater!

Security Guard 1: GASP! How dare you!

Security Guard 2: Are you calling me a liar?

Security Guard 1: You'd better believe it!

1 &2 (simultaneously): YOU'RE GOING DOWN!

Meanwhile, on the screens the guards are idiotically neglecting because of the distractions of bad foreign language abilities...

Office Attendee (sorry if there is an official term for this job that I don't know): No! You can't have the school funds!

Robber: You fool! I am a master of the art of karate! Surrender the funds, or I shall unleash my viper-resembling skills!

Office Attendee: What are you supposed to be, a ninja? Please! My five year-old son can do a better job than that!

Robber: Excuse me?! What a sharp tongue you have there. But be careful with a tool such as that, for, like foreign languages, if misused, it will bring great annoyance to others.

Office Attendee: ... What? OK, security! Security, get this lunatic out of here!

Awkward silence follows as no security shows up.

Office Attendee: Goodness, what is going on today? Jimmy, would you come here please?

Cute little five year-old boy skips to his mother.

Office Attendee: Could you do Mommy a favor and demonstrate your ninja skills to this man?

Jimmy: Yaay! Thanks, Mommy!

Jimmy proceeds to karate chop the robber to tiny bits as the guards continue to brawl over their idiocy.

THE END

Por favor, SHUT UP!

Hackneyed- without freshness or appeal because of overuse.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: foreign languages!

So, here I am, sitting in the French room of my middle school, and I was thinking that this must be the center of foreign languages here at GMS. After all, the people around me are constantly exercising their knowledge, little that they might have, of foreign languages. Then, it hit me- the room is not necessarily the center of foreign languages; the people in it are just being extremely annoying by OVERUSING EVERY SINGLE BIT OF FRENCH, SPANISH, AND GERMAN THEY CAN THINK OF.

Honestly! They think they are so cool because they know a curse word in German or how to say "I like bananas." in Spanish. Idiots. I feel bad for the people who actually speak these languages as their native tongue; their culture is being brutally murdered by us insolent Americans.

Oh, dear... this doesn't feel random enough. What shall I do? Hmm...

Random Thought: You know what's creepy? Cameras in school. They freak me out. There is one staring at me right now. I bet there's a secret control room somewhere in the center of this school, and there are probably these fat security guards watching us, eating doughnuts... how stereotypical of me. Maybe the fat guards are attempting to speak another language. They are probably failing miserably. In fact, they are probably amusing themselves so much with their bad foreign skills that they do not notice that there is a robbery going on in the lunchroom, and the lunch ladies are screaming in terror, but no one will ever know because of the idiotic over usage of badly spoken foreign languages.

The Great Blogzini predicts: For your next haircut, you shall go to Wal-Mart, buy some electric scissors, and accidentally shear off all of your hair. I suggest a Hannah Montana wig.

Shun the Robots!

Irreplaceable- incapable of being replaced; unique.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: psychologists!

Strap in, my friends. I feel this is going to be a good one...

You see, my grade is currently in the very trying process of preparing for our TCAP Writing Assessments that are coming up soon. To help us get ready, we have been doing many practice essays during language class. For the latest one, we were given a choice of which essay we wanted to write. The choices were

a. If you could put anyone on a stamp, who would it be?

b. What are three things you would tell a substitute teacher that they would need to know?

c. What is one job that technology could never replace?

The next day or so, we got to give our opinions on some essays from other classes. All of the ones I "graded" were in category C. I think 3 out of 4 of them were about teachers, and the last one was about surgeons. (They spelled surgeon wrong throughout the entire thing, by the way, which bugged me to no end.) These are all fine and good, but I think a robot could easily replace both of those. Sure, it could make a few mistakes, but so do real teachers and surgeons, so it wouldn't really be any different, would it? No, if I had picked that essay, I would have definitely written about psychologists.

Don't worry, though. This is not going to be a blog in the format of a formal school essay. Ew! Can you say boring? I can. Watch; BORING. Ooooooh!

Seriously, though, robots could NOT replace psychologists! Psychologists are there to help mentally ill people feel better about themselves, the world, etc. Robots don't have emotions! How can they help emotionally wronged people when its not even POSSIBLE for robots to be emotionally wronged themselves?

Also, it may just be me, but I find robots to be creepy. You know how some people have this irrational fear of clowns? Well, its sort of like that with robots for me, except I don't tend to run away screaming when I see one. I just think its weird. But even if people aren't necessarily SCARED of them, I wouldn't really say robots are much of a comfort to anyone. I mean, they're made of metal. They are literally cold-hearted! Well... actually, they don't even have hearts, just circuits, which makes them even more creepy. Time for dialog!

Dr. Roe Botte: Greetings, human. How may I serve you today?

Little Old Lady: Oh, Dr. Botte! Its just terrible! My beloved cat, Jingles, has just passed away!

Dr. Roe Botte: How do you feel about that?

L.O.L: Well...terrible! I had that cat for seventeen years! He was my best friend!

Dr. Roe Botte: Insufficient data. Please insert coin and try again.

L.O.L: ... Excuse me?

Dr. Roe Botte: ...

Little Old Lady bursts into tears at the Doctor's lack of sensitivity.

Dr. Roe Botte: OVERLOAD! OVERLOAD! SELF-DESTRUCT IN 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

KABOOM!

The Great Blogzini predicts: You will become bored and spend the entire day memorizing the back of your left hand.

Update!

Attention, readers! I have three extremely important announcements!

1.) There is a new poll up at the bottom of the page. Please vote.

2.) I also have a new chat box directly above the hit counter. Feel free to chat amongst yourselves.

3.) Speaking of the hit counter, I have now gotten over 100 hits! Woot woot! Thank you for clicking.

That is all. Have a glorious day.

T. P. Time

Decorative- Serving to decorate or embellish; ornamental.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: toilet paper!

Yes, this is clearly the high point of today's decorating ornaments. Toilet paper is great for surprising your friends by ringing their doorbell early in the morning, hiding, and having them stumble out into a yard covered by the thin bathroom necessity. Isn't that always a fun thing to wake up to?

Not only is toilet paper great for... well... toilet papering someone's house, but just look at the designs on many of today's popular brands! Let's explore this item further.

I take you on a journey, to the hidden depths of my house's very own bathroom under the stairs. Quite like Harry Potter's cupboard under the stairs. Except... you know... its a bathroom.

On the right side wall as we enter this tiny room, we spot what we are looking for. There before us stands the most decorative of all decorations: a toilet paper roll.

Oh, yes! Ignore the cinnamon scented pine cones in the basket by the door. The colorful tissue holder matters none to us. The flowers in matching baskets are garbage compared to this exquisite cylinder of tissue-y paper. We swoop down low to get a closer look.

Ah! Look at the intricate detail! Delicately traced in the toilet paper are beautiful images of flowers and hearts, bordered by extraordinarily wavy lines. Our eyes follow the carefully designed patterns: flower, wavy line,heart, wavy line, flower, wavy line, heart,etc. Oh, the majesty of it!

...OK, I think you get the point. If you didn't understand the concept of my sarcasm throughout that entire thing, you better go reread it. Seriously, WHY do they put designs on toilet paper? Huh? Who ACTUALLY looks at it, other than insane bloggers trying desperately to find something to rant about? You use it, you flush it, you occasionally squash a bug with it. I don't think you, the toilet, OR the dead bugs are terribly concerned with whether or not there are roses on your/their toilet paper.

The Great Toilet Paper Debacle

Woman: Excuse me! EXCUSE ME, sir! I need to return this toilet paper right away!
Sales Dude: Why, whatever is wrong with it?
Woman: Well, isn't it obvious? Look closer, and tell me WHY you are selling this horror here!

Sales dude peers closer at the toilet paper.

Sales Dude: GASP! There are no roses on this toilet paper!
Woman: I know! What is the meaning of this?
Sales Dude: I...I...I don't know! I will report this to the manager right away!
Woman: Then take these. I am coming, too, and I can't carry them all.

Woman hands some un-designed toilet paper rolls to the sales dude, who then tosses them around like hot potatoes.

LATER ON...

Sales Dude: Mr. Manager! Mr. Manager, sir!
Mr. Manager: What is it...

Mr. Manager squints at the sales dude's name tag.

Mr. Manager: ...Eugene?
Eugene: This woman bought some toilet paper that had NO ROSES ON IT!!!

Mr. Manager breathes in sharply, then faints on the floor. The woman and Eugene stare blankly at him for two seconds, then drop the apparently toxic toilet paper and run around in circles while screaming at the tops of their lungs. The entire Earth then collapses.

THE END (literally).

It can be rather scary when I get started on dialog, can't it? So, who would you be in this situation? The woman, who was merely a victim in this debacle? Eugene, who was that faithful, dorky, sidekick type, like Ron Weasley or Riley from National Treasure, who tries to fix everything but generally fails? Or maybe the mysterious Mr. Manager, the character who seems all powerful until he is actually faced with a real challenge? I myself think I would be Eugene. But it doesn't matter. Know why? BECAUSE THE WORLD WILL NOT END BECAUSE OF UN-DESIGNED TOILET PAPER.
And that is the moral of my story.

The Great Blogzini predicts: You will see a moving shadow in an alley, become frightened, and scream in the middle of a bustling street. You will then become embarrassed as you realize the shadow was a cat.

Update!

Just for the record (certain friend who for some unknown reason thinks the Goo Goo Dolls are better than the Killers) the poll is closed, and the UNCONTESTED winner is the Killers! As a certain Social Studies teacher would say, GET OWNED!

Do You Know Your Brain?

Random- proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: thoughts!

This, my friends, is a huge award. Considering that it is the entire reason for this blog, the thing it gets awarded to is extremely important. And that seems to be true, figuring that without thoughts, we couldn't... you know... think.

Anyway, the reason I tell you this is that today, during G.I., we all started "analyzing our brains". In other words, we started with a random word, wrote down the first word that word made us think of, wrote down the first word THAT word made us think of, and so on and so forth. I am pretty sure we weren't REALLY analyzing our brain, just judging how bizarre we can be.

The friend of mine who I mentioned two blogs ago... what generic name did I give her? The one with the awesome blog? Uuuuh... I don't know. But hopefully you know who I am talking about. Anyway, she was the first one to "analyze" her thoughts.  She made note of the ones she wrote down most; I believe they were pain, explicit content, and milkshakes. Do you see why I awarded this word to thoughts? NO?! Fine. Let me demonstrate. I will do this procedure with twenty words. Let's see what happens. I shall start with the word "book".

1. book
2. worm
3. dirt
4. brown
5. chocolate
6. delicious
7. Dora the Explorer
8. mountain
9. Charlie the Unicorn
10. candy
11. Halloween
12. ghost
13. stories
14. children
15. screaming
16. horror
17. painting
18. clocks
19. time
20. High School Musical 2

Should I explain some of that? Maybe? It may not be as random then, but who wants to be confused? I don't know if there actually is such a thing as random- I think our minds just move at different paces for each individual, and no one else can keep up with your own unique pace.

Oh yeah. That was deep. 

So, let's explore my thought process:

I think its obvious why I went from book to worm. Try putting the two together if you REALLY don't get it. Worms live in dirt, dirt is brown, chocolate is also brown, chocolate is delicious. Oh, this one might be odd: I said Dora the Explorer after delicious because I thought of delicioso, which her stupid backpack says after he eats everything he has already thrown up. How that animated thing can eat, regurgitate, then eat for a second time things like rope, whole lollipops (including the sticks), and watches beats me. 

I said mountain after Dora because she is always severely confused as to where the great big fuschia mountain that is right behind her is hiding. Because mountains CAN hide, you know.  I said Charlie the Unicorn after mountain, because of his journey to Candy Mountain, which also explains the next response.  Never heard of it? 

SLAP!

Go look it up on YouTube. Anyhow, I said Halloween after candy and ghost after Halloween for clear reasons.  Stories after ghost- ghost stories? Duh! Children after stories because I thought of children's stories.  I said screaming after children because I have yet to meet a young child who doesn't scream at least twice a week.  Horror after screaming, blah blah blah... ha ha. This one's interesting. I said painting after horror because I thought of that one with the freaky looking guy who has his hands on his cheeks and his mouth is forming this perfect O. I think its called The Scream? Yes? No? Maybe? So? Moving on...

After painting, I said clocks because I thought of that one by Salvador Dali where all the clocks are melting. Obviously, time after clocks, and (this is a sign of true Disney infection) High School Musical 2 after time because of the first song in that extremely deep and complicated musical, "What Time is It?". 

All of these thoughts happened in the space of thirty seconds. If that doesn't convince you that thoughts are the most deserving of this award, nothing will. 

This post's fortune: Tonight, you shall dream about ninja bacon seeking revenge. 

(By the way, I do realize that this is my third post of the day. I won't be here all weekend, so I didn't want to deprive you of randomness. Plus, I was bored.)

Correction

Hey, guess what? This post doesn't get an award or a prediction because I already made my blog post for the day. This is just an update. I told you in the post titled "Jammin'!" that I had already blogged about the wonders of iPod Shuffle. Apparently, I hadn't. I had started writing it, saved it as a draft, then forgotten about it. Go me and my astounding memory. So, anyway, I don't feel like finishing it. So... go cry, emo kid. I know, I have just let you down hugely. Oh well.

Sneak Peek

Scene- the place where some action or event occurs.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: the French room at my middle school!

OK, I admit, this isn't a very good award. But I couldn't think of anything to go along with what I feel like ranting about today. Which, by the way, is really nothing. I am just going to give you a special sneak peek of my surroundings: tell you who's here, what's going on, etc. I might do this every once in a while, if I don't feel like thinking of something random to blog about. Or when I don't feel like studying for my social studies quiz. *Cough cough* But don't worry. It should still be filled with interesting bits of my thoughts.

Anyway, so right now I am in the French room here at school, avoiding the lectures of my Media Tech teacher. See, I am on the newspaper with about five other people, so we are special and privileged. So while our "friends" on WGMS (the terrible news broadcast that has yet to have a successful airing all year) suffer the pointless rants that somehow all include the Air Force, football, and poor examples of motivation, we very elite kids on the newspaper staff enjoy the leisures (sorry for any misspelling there) of blogging and computer games. Its a hard life.

So my friend, who shall go by the generic name of Lisa, is sitting to my left, playing a Not Doppler game called Bubble Shooter. Pretty much, the premisis is to try and shoot a bunch of the same colored dots in a row so they pop like bubbles (wonder how these very creative people came up with the name) until all the dots are gone. It can be rather addicting. My other friend, who shall go by the generic name of Esther, is standing behind Lisa, directing her as to where to shoot the bubbles. Meanwhile, they are both listening to the online radio website, Pandora. Which, by the way, I hate. You type in one song you want to listen to, and it gives you one it thinks you will like. Computers can't think, clearly demonstrated by the fact that it pops up with Linkin Park when I type in the Killers. But I digress.

Sitting to my right, my seventh-grade apprentice who shall go by the generic name of Debbie is...also...playing...Bubble Shooter... wow. My friends have no life. What are the guys doing?

Yes, we have guys on the newspaper staff. Two of them! They shall go by the generic names of James and Tim. Currently, James is making the crossword puzzle that is going on the back page of the newspaper. (He is the entertainment editor.) At least, that's what it looks like he's doing. I won't bother to ask.

Tim is actually STUDYING! Take it from me; this is quite the miracle. Tim never studies... oh wait, he is just doing math homework. Substitution and word problems... yum.

We supposedly have a math test on that stuff today, which our teacher neglected to tell us about. This greatly saddens me, as it means I will have to waste my entire G.I. period studying for it. Joy to the world.

OK, I am gonna go try to study while my friends a.) play Bubble Shooter b.) listen to Bleed It Out c.) play more Bubble Shooter d.) supposedly make crossword puzzles, then decide to act like they are sniping the rest of us and/or e.) "finish" their homework and play Minesweeper. Before I go, check out viewinblue.blogspot.com. It is my friend's blog (no one mentioned in this post) and it is hysterical. Go to it, just as long as you promise to come back here at some point in your life. OK? Great. Thanks.

This posts' fortune: Later on this month, you shall befriend a balloon named Wilson.

Jammin'!

Bobbing- to move quickly down and up.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: my very own head!


Yes, that is right; my head feels incredibly honored right now. And who wouldn't, winning such a prestigious award as this one? But before I get going on my random ranting, I would greatly enjoy pulling your attention to the bottom of the sidebar to the right of this post. You will see that there is now a visitor counter thing there! I have FINALLY figured out how to work it into my HTML, and for someone like me who knows absolutely nothing about computers, that is an amazing concept to grasp. Anyway, refresh a bunch so my blog looks impressive to other people. My other friends with blogs will probably be somewhat annoyed, considering I got the idea from them, but hey- imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, no? (Though I frankly have always hated that expression. Moving on.)

So, why is my head bobbing? I am listening to my iPod, of course! Yes, yes, I have already blogged about the wonders of the Shuffle button on the music-playing contraptions, so I can't really rant more about iPods... I don't honestly know why I decided to blog about this. My head was just going up and down, up and down, up and down, in a very calming way, and I couldn't focus on anything except the music. Which is probably a bad thing when I should be working on my Social Studies homework...

AAAAAAH ZAC EFRON!!!! WHY ARE YOU ON MY IPOD?!?!?!?!

Oh, this song is sort of catchy....I must banish it before High School Musical 2 gets stuck in my head...

Oh, sooooo much better. The Killers solve everything. Quite like duct tape.

Hmmm, what to talk about... arg I need to think of something before I start typing lyr-

"Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital.
My hands are cold.
And I'm on my knees,
looking for the answer.
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?"

-ics. Urg. Oh well. The Killers are over. Now it is playing "Drops of Jupiter" by Train. I need to stop blogging before I type the lyrics to all 802 songs on my tiny portable music player.

This post's fortune: You will surprise yourself by transforming into a finger puppet overnight.

I Shall Predict Your Fuuuuutuuuuure...

Greetings, friendies, strangers, and all!

As you can see by the lack of awards and definitions, this is no ordinary blog. It is, sadly, just an update, but no worries! This is an announcement filled to the brim with joy and wonder!

Do you remember the blog about fortune cookies? Well, I have decided to harness my very own, fortune-telling powers and gaze into my crystal ball each time I blog. I will then predict a very extreme future for all you readers, which you will then all magically experience five minutes later, because that is the way of the fortune teller. These fortunes are pretty much guaranteed to be more accurate and less mumbo-jumbo than the ones you get from Chinese resturants.

Your first fortune ever: You shall be hit by a railroad sign. Don't ask why. The Great Blogzini says its meant to be.

Football Freaks- I Got 'Em!

Freak- a person or animal on exhibition as an example of a strange deviation from nature; monster.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: football fans!


OK, all you extremely literal people reading this: no, I have yet to see a football fan displayed at the zoo because someone has called them a "strange deviation from nature" or a "monster"... or for any other reason, really. But COME ON? How could you disagree with this award?


Fact: Football fans frequently sit outside the stadium, at which a game they don't even have tickets to is being played that day, with radios and various snacks. They call this activity "tail-gating."


Fact: Football fans enjoy covering themselves in multicolored paints to support their favorite teams. I am curious how long that stuff takes to get off.

Fact: Football fans also seem to enjoy standing and/or sitting in below freezing weather just to watch a bunch of helmeted guys throw a ball around and tackle each other.

Fact: Football fans apparently have the ability of figuring out how the football scoring system works, while the rest of us sit there scratching our heads as to why one team scored three points and the other only scored two.

Fact: Football fans also have the astounding ability of knowing how every single play in the book works.


Fact: I do not understand this.

My family is currently watching the.... well, some game. I think its between South Dakota and Pittsburgh. Wait, a state vs. a city? Another reason football is stupid. (Of course, I have no idea what I am talking about, so if I am wrong, feel free to correct me. But don't expect more than a sarcastic remark in response.)

While my mom screams about how she hates kickers, my dad finishes his yelling about Eli Manning from the game before, and my sister watches with an expression of rage sitting quietly upon her face, I simply laugh, because none of them realize how very amusing all of this is to watch. I really don't understand how anyone can get so worked up about a bunch of sweaty guys shoving each other around in the snow. It makes no sense at all. If you want that sort of entertainment, go to a park in Alaska and watch a couple of kids make snow angels. Its along the same lines.

I am also curious as to how these footballs don't pop, what with all these rather large, muscular giants falling on top of them every five seconds.

These poor people. These poor, delusional people.

(OK, I admit it. I, of all people, should not be calling other people freaks. Though I am more of a dork than a freak. But seriously!!!!!!!)

Charity Cheer

Stranded- to be brought into or left in a difficult or helpless position.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: adults ages 30-55!

Now, I don't know if that is the "official" age range for middle-aged people, but you catch my drift.

Oh, good job, you observant readers! You noticed that this is my second blog post of the day. I decided that now that my freaky adrenaline rush from before has died down, I would honor you with a second post.  Also, I felt like more ranting, and my friends weren't providing very good conversation.  Don't you feel special?

Anyway, so why did I award middle-aged people with the STRANDED award? I mean, last time I checked, my parents were not sitting in the middle of a deserted island, cracking open coconuts and pushing messages in bottles out to sea.  Well, you sillies, that is not the only definition of STRANDED! Look above, and you will see another meaning!!! 

OK, does this still not make sense? Let me explain; we were in this thing at my school called G.I. today. Its pretty much a 25 minute study hall before lunch.  But on Friday's, we are forced to participate in Five Star Friday, in which we have to reach into the deepest depths of our hearts and let all the difficult stuff in our lives spill over onto the floor, where the other angst-y teenagers in our big Circle O' Friendship will gaze into it and magically solve our problems by giving us a big bucketful of consoling words.  My life has changed dramatically since they started this program.

So today, we were talking about the charity project the school is forcing, ahem, I mean asking us to participate in over the next week.  Some of the suggested ideas they gave us were helping the elderly, helping little children...

"WAIT A MINUTE!" 

A cry of alarm, shouted by my good friend who shall hereby go by the generic name of Jenny.  

"WHY is it that it suggests we help the elderly and the children, when no one is helping the middle-aged people?"

Well, now. That's a good question.  It's not like they couldn't use the help.  Everyone needs help all the time.  Like right now, I wish I wasn't being blinded by the laptop light, but that can't be helped.  And my mom is annoyed at the beeping oven.  And my dad... well, he is being all emo because I am leaving him to watch TV while I go to Buca de Beppo tonight.  

Oh. Speaking of which, I have to go soon.  But anyway.

Maybe I should volunteer to read to the middle-aged? Or to do their grocery shopping for them?  I wonder if someone will start an Institute for the Middle Aged in the future.  Why not? They have institutes for everything else. 

More Polls!

Skills- Proficiency, facility, or dexterity that is acquired or developed through training or experience.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: rock bands!!!!!!!

OK, beware, readers, because this blog is going to be on fire. Probably because of the dizzying adrenaline rush I am on right now. Here's why:

Clearly, I chose rock bands as the definition of skills because they are the most amazing music-creating sensations in this world. If you don't like rock, then.... well I suggest not telling ME that, because I am a HUGE rock fan. And my favorite band of all? THE KILLERS!!!!! I mean, I liked them anyway, but I am obsessed with thier newest cd, Day and Age.

But my friend, who shall go by the generic name of Susie, is a huge Goo Goo Dolls fan. And we got into this huge debate this morning over who is better, the Killers or the Goo Goo Dolls. When it became clear that yelling to each other about it would determine nothing, we went around in the spare five minutes we had before homeroom started, and yelled at everyone ELSE we could find. Currently, the count is Killers- 11 Goo Goo Dolls- 1. Not including Susie's and my votes.

And we're not letting it go just like that. As much as I would like to claim victory now, my blood is rushing and I am out to PROVE just how much BETTER the Killers are than the Goo Goo Dolls. So we will probably poll the entire school before we stop. We already asked a few teachers, and I wouldn't be surprised if our springing-out-of-no-where-and-shouting-the-question routine scared a few of them into hiding. But on blogs, I can't really scream, so you should be safe.

ANYWAY I decided to make a poll about it. It won't settle much, but like I mentioned before- ADRENALINE RUSH. Sadly, this website only lets you have one poll at a time, so the cheese one had to go. Oh well. Anyway, VOTE, so I can prove Susie wrong!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mucho gracias!

P.S. Sorry if this seems badly written. If you haven't figured out why yet, read the words that are in all capitals in the second sentence of the last paragraph.

HOW Fortuitous...

Liar- a person who lies or has lied repeatedly.

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day goes to: fortune cookies!!!!!

OK, technically this isn't accurate, as the definition is a PERSON who lies or lies repeatedly. But whatever. Oh, and maybe its just me and my dorky-ness, but I found it amusing for some unknown reason when the dictionary I went to for this said the antonym (opposite) of liar is a straight shooter. Really? Who SAYS that?

ANYWAY, the lies of fortune cookies were brought to my attention just yesterday, when my family ordered Chinese food for dinner. Despite our average-sized family of four, the people at the restaurant gave us something like seven cookies.  But hey, why not? We opened them all anyway.

None of us even eat the cookies.  We just crack open the fancily shaped thing so we can see the "predictions" that await us.  We don't believe them; I have yet to see anyone who has. But its fun to see what supposedly lies in our future.

But apparently, its alright now to just say something kind about you instead of actually telling your fortune. For example, one said "You are admired by everyone for your talent and abilities." It doesn't even "predict" what these talents and abilities are! Even if it wasn't a real fortune, it would be fun to get one that said "You are admired by everyone for your talent and abilities in the area of tight-rope walking." Of course, if some six year old kid got that one and decided they were secretly a prodigy or something... that could be a lawsuit waiting to happen.

And then there was one that simply said "You love peace." 

.............. (cricket cricket).............. 

Wow. What a prediction. Stunning. Blows my mind.

But my favorite of them all was one I just can't wrap my mind around.  Try this out for size:

"Behind an able man, there are always other able men."

WHAT? I mean, maybe that makes sense to some wise dude who says stuff like this the number of times a day that I say "snazzy", but when I showed this fortune around at school, no else got it either.  What, exactly, is an able man? Why are we looking behind him? If we are looking for more able men, wouldn't the able man who is ever-so-able be ABLE to tell us where the other able men are? And why is it only men that are able? Because I can think of plenty of situations where women have been more "able", whatever that means, than men. And why are all the other able men lined up behind this one able man? And why does the line never end? Because it says there are ALWAYS other able men. How is this possible? The line can not stretch on forever.  How many times does the line wrap around the earth? If stretched out to its full length, how long is it? But if it keeps growing, does it have no certain length? When was the line begun? How old is the first able man? What happens when the first able man dies? Does it not matter, since the line apparently stretches on forever? Are the able men the ones who write these lying fortune cookies that don't actually predict my fortune? Is it a secret society that I just discovered? Does that mean I join the line of able men, making it the line of able men and women? 

Important questions...

Updating Stuff+ Cheese= Yaaay!

Variety-the state of being varied or diversified.


Greetings, people of Germany, Wisconsin, and so on. We will get to the award later on. Right now, it's time for...duh duh DUH... UPDATES!

I don't know how many of you actually saw that last post, but if you didn't, just skip this paragraph. For those of you who DID see it, you can now observe that I have deleted it. It was all about those old screenplays by me and my friend, remember? No? Well, it doesn't matter, because I decided not to post the screenplays, because one happens to be about certain people at a certain school, and these certain people may not certainly find it amusing if they read it...so I will perhaps wait until next year to post them. Sound good? Fantastical.

Also, the poll waaay down below is now closed, and the winner of "Which is most random?" was a llama stuck in quicksand!!!! There was a tie for second between a remote with a maniacal grin and a tomato falling in love with a piece of broccoli. I can NOT believe no one voted for my blog!!! Of course, only five people voted, and they were most likely all my friends, so the result was pretty much set in stone beforehand.

OK, the updates are over and now it is time for the award!!!!!!

The Walking Dictionary's Definition of the Day Award goes to: cheese!

It may seem random, cheese being the winner of this award, (but isn't random why we're here?) but it really makes a lot of sense. See, there are all these different types of cheeses: Swiss, American, Cheddar, Muenster (or however you spell that), ect. And then there are the different ways of making/preparing cheese: plain cheese, cheese sandwich, grilled cheese, quesadilla, and (my personal favorite) cheese dip. That, my friends, family, and random strangers, is variety.

I don't understand why cheese is so random. I really don't. It's just a food, people!!!!! Are hot dogs so random, or maybe a carrot? What about a carrot diced onto a hot dog, dipped in cheese? ... OK, so maybe THAT'S random. But just plain old cheese? I don't think so.

I am curious; is it just my friends who believe that cheese is so random? Does the rest of the world think so too, or are you very rare readers from elsewhere wondering why in the world I am ranting about cheese not being random when everyone else already realizes that? Well, now...I think we might just have our next poll.