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.