AND I THOUGHT SHE WAS JUST COVERING UP THE GREEN FUR WITH MAKEUP...

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch...
My grandmother gave me a car last night. A car.
Charlie's car, to be exact...A dead man's car.
But it's still a car.
Now, I have two. I think I'm the only Junior who's turning 17 in a few days and still won't be able to drive her TWO cars.
I like the sound of that...Maybe I can drive one (Illegally.) and rent out the other one to Elis (Illegally.)...It's just a thought.
MWHAHAHA! EVIL LAUGHTER!

"BUT WHY IS MR. DARLING ALSO CAPTAIN HOOK? I JUST DON'T GET THAT PART..."

Thank you, Mr. Intelligent.
The movie last night was good...Really good, actually...I didn't enjoy the setting too much, but that comes from being a twisted, sardonic human being who doesn't enjoy inferior company--I mean--comedy.
Sure.
And now we're off to Grandmother's House. Ha. Sounds like a bundle of fun!
Or not.
I've been out of contact with anyone school related for about three days...It's eating me up...Elis has apparently gone into hiding (With beloved Vice President Dick Cheney, of course...), Anthony is busy being "Tony," Chaz is trying to track down Casey, and Casey is trying not to be found at Jessi's house...
Or, at least, that's what I'm presuming...
I had a long, two hour "think" on the way down here last night...I wasn't thinking of anything substance-wise, just pondering APeX visiting in about two weeks, the fact that I (Thankfully.) haven't seen Derk in at least a month (And the fact that I don't plan on seeing him again for at least that much time...), and wondering if I'm going to spiral into another "Mid-Life Crisis Thingy" (The scientific term.) at 17 next week...
17. The Big One-Seven.
I think I'm ready to move out.

"HARK" MY ACHING SPINAL CHORD SINGS, "AGAIN I MUST SEE THAT DAMN TRILOGY OF RINGS"...

Or simply Hugo Weaving...I could manage that...
I must depart from the computer to play wicked miracles upon the span of mass I call my room, then wrap last-minute gifts, and then...Something...I'll think of something to do, I imagine...
Christmas eve...Oh, how I loathe thee...

IT'S BEEN DAYS, WEEKS, MONTHS, YEARS, AND PERHAPS DECADES SINCE THIS BLOG HAS WRITTEN ABOUT ANYTHING...

Whatever...
Nothing too eventful befell me over the weekend. Sadam Hussain looks like the Iraqi Santa Claus, I got a phone call from Neil Simon inviting me to take over as "Rose," my horoscope may actually be correct for once ("You'll compete with the Devil for your immortal soul in a midnight game of Scrabble, and win handily when he can only think of creepy, depressing Latin words."), and I've completely forgotten everything that happened in the last two weeks...
Jeez. It's good to almost be on Christmas Break.

OH, HOW PRETTY MY PARASOL IS!

I'm honestly worried...Poor Ozzy...

THAT'S ONE SMALL STEP FOR WORTHWHILE THEATER IN NEW YORK, ONE GIANT LEAP FOR NEIL SIMON'S CAREER SUCCESS...

"Mary Tyler Moore, Neil Simon in Tiff Over Play
After reportedly receiving a note from playwright Neil Simon telling her to either [Editor's Note: This one had to sting...Wait for it, wait for it...NOW!] learn her lines "or get out of my play," Mary Tyler Moore has quit Simon's new play, Rose's Dilemma, walking out moments before Wednesday's matinee, published reports said today (Friday). Simon, who in his autobiography complained about the inability of several television and films stars to learn their lines quickly [Editor's Note: Well, duh.] , was reportedly upset that Moore was relying on a wireless headset in which her lines were being fed to her by an assistant. [Editor's Note: What, did her Mrs. Monroe get caught in traffic too? I'd like to see Mary Tyler "I'm 137 Years Old!" Moore fit into that little silver thing...] Mara Buxbaum, her publicist, said in a statement: "Mary has been working tirelessly for months but feels pushed out of this production. This is a very upsetting time for her." Simon had no comment. In 1980, Tony Curtis pulled out of his play I Ought to Be in Pictures, because, according to Simon, the actor was unable to cope with his frequent script alterations during the show's tryouts."

Thank you, Mr. Internet Movie DataBase!
Go Simon, it's your birthday. Go Simon, find a real actress...

TRIED TEACHING POST AND DEREK TO JUGGLE HATS...AND IT DIDN'T WORK.

But at least I have something to write about...
Hmm...We're waiting for Baby With The Bathwater rehersal, waiting for the "Teacher Detention" to end...
And Chris just asked me out...
And my life is over...
And I just impaled myself with a flag.
Fun!

I LOVE TELEMARKETERS. THEY NEVER LIE.

It's like a line from a horrible movie...But there is a way to fight against the tyranny...
With my cocaine addiction, it's the only job I can do, ohhwoo! I said, America, let us call you!

IT'S A SHAME THAT CHRISTIAN MUSIC'S BAD-BOY-WITH-A-SERIOUS-MESSIAH-COMPLEX IS MARRIED...NOT THAT I'M INTERESTED...

After all, who'd want a piece of that? Definately not Kelley.

IF I DIDN'T LOVE "BIGGITY" SO MUCH, DOUGLAS WOULD NOT BE LOVED SO MUCH...

I love that my little B-Rock and Erik have a band...It's sexy, in a Freshman/Sophomore way...
Check them out, even if they only have the demo out up at this point...

IAN HAS A WEBSITE...HORRAH, HORRAH, HOR-FREAKING-RAH.

Not that I officially care too much, but when your "Big Brother" looks cool in his FSU Band Uniform, you want the world to know...
Ehh...Way too much free time on my hands...
[Editor's Note: This link might work better...You just have to navigate to the "Pictures" page...As if anyone really cares...God, I need to stop talking to myself via the Blog.]

THIS BLOG THOUGHT IT COULD RISE ABOVE THOUGHTLESS LUCRETIA MOTT HUMOR...IT WAS WRONG.

November 12, 1880
OBITUARY
Lucretia Mott
By THE NEW YORK TIMES
Lucretia Mott died last evening at her residence, near Philadelphia, in her eighty-eighth year. Mrs. Mott, whose name was probably as widely known as that of any other public woman in this or the preceding generation, was born in the old whaling town of Nantucket on the 3d of January, 1793. Her maiden name was Coffin. When 11 years old, her parents removed to Boston, where she went to school, finishing her education at a young ladies' boarding school in Dutchess County, N.Y., in which, when only 15 years old, she became a teacher. In 1809 she rejoined her parents, who had removed to Philadelphia, and in 1811, two years later, was married to James Mott. She was then in her nineteenth year. Her husband went into partnership with her father, Mr. Coffin, and Mrs. Mott again turned her attention to educational matters. In 1817 she took charge of a school in Philadelphia, and in 1818 began to preach. She made extended pilgrimages through New-England, Pennsylvania, Maryland and parts of Virginia advocating Quaker principles and waging at the same time a vigorous warfare against the evils of intemperance and slavery. In the division of the Society of Friends in 1827 she adhered to the Hicksites. Mrs. Mott took a prominent part in organizing the American Anti-Slavery Society in Philadelphia in 1833, and was a delegate to the famous World's Anti-Slavery Convention in London in 1840, where, in company with other female delegates, she was refused admission on account of her sex. She was also prominent in the original Woman's Rights Convention held at Seneca Falls, N.Y., in 1848, over which her husband, James Mott, presided. During the last 30 years she has been conspicuous in such gatherings and in annual meetings of the Society of Friends. Among her published works are "Sermons to Medical Students" and "A Discourse on Women."
That was simply too humorous to be refused passage into this blog.
Good day.

"IT'S LIKE A GOLD DAY EVERY DAY!"

Kelley is Assistant Director for "Baby With The Bathwater"...
And Walt is annoying. But we'll all get over it.
[Editor's Note: And by "Gold Day," I mean "kissing the Troll's rear-end for a total of 3-6 hours daily."]

I'M IN ST. PETE...AND I AM TYPING...

I'm not insanely fond of funeral masses and weeping relatives, but honestly, the trip hasn't been too much of a drag...
As my good buddy, P-Dawg, would say:
"Kelley, you are such a Stoic!" *Flamboyant hand flip...*
Ehh...
We're getting the last of our things together, and then, we'll be up later on this evening...I wonder how auditions turned out...
Off I go, to text message CMoore...

HELLO, MY NAME IS KELLEY, AND I STOLE A CAT FROM DENNY'S.

Hi, Kelley.
Last night was evening two of FOOTLOOSE, and the gang decided on Denny's for our ritual feast...Of course, I managed to feast long before the herd, seeing as I was blessed with the presence of a parent that can order much faster from a separate table...Heh...They all wanted parents come midnight...
Anyway, there was a kitten of possibly one year of age plaguing our gathering, looking all pitiful and lonely at the window, and the female population of our cast and crew simply had to go see the poor dear! [Editor's Note: Gag me with a spoon.] So, they did. And I ate my food. And I was happy.
We decided to take off a little earlier than the rest, and so as Mary and I strolled outside, myself fixated solely on complaining about the poor kitty-witty and how hungry and sad and lonely it was [Editor's Note: Obviously.] , he ran up and jumped onto my shoulder.
And Mary says, "Let's take him home."
"Huh?"
"I said, let's take him home. He looks like a Charlie."
[Editor's Note: Unbeknownst to anyone besides this blog and her family at the current time, Charlie, this blog's grandfather, passed away yesterday morning. This blog has little emotion or feeling on the subject, and cold hearted as she is, really doesn't care. She can't. She isn't in tears, she's not sad. It's just an emotionless event for her, and that's why no one knows, nor needs to know.]
So we did. We took him home. Or her, as the case may soon be revealed. "IT" has an appointment with a veterinarian around noon-or-later, and that will determine all further gender issues.
To be totally and completely honest, my mom was the one that stole the cat. I was simply the one that picked it up, set it in the back seat of our car, and closed the door...So it wasn't really my fault...
And that is about all exciting news and events of credit worthy of mentioning at this point and time...
If we adopt a chinchilla, this blog will let you know.

"FOOTLOOSE! CUT LOOSE! LINDSEY'S KICKING OFF HER SHOES..."

Last night was eventful. Sort of.
The show went very well, despite the fact that the picture frame fell and cracked, Andrew was dyslexic, Lindsey lost her shoe in the finale (And Kevin Post caught it...), the screen was knocked over, and Beethoven is now decapitated...Again.
A relatively uneventful opening night.
The Mock DUI is this morning, and I feel as though I have already learned the effects of what I would like to call "Drama Under the Influence":
---Carrying large couches from furniture Storage, all the way to the football field.
---Freezing my naked toes off.
---Being described as a "Backelite".
---"Supervising" the movement of two metallic benches...
---...And allowing my sandal to slip off and drench my foot in freezing mud as I'm carrying the third.
---Moving door flats that (Surprisingly enough) have less weight on them than The Moore House.
And...
---Backel forcing Mr. Davis to provide us with steaming Hot Chocolate...
That should prove an interesting battle. I should buy tickets, sell concessions, and possibly rent a video camera so that I can record the event and sell copies of the video for a hefty percentage.
Ahh. On to Circuit City. Or Physics. Either way...

FINALLY, A WORTHWHILE PICTURE UP ON DISCIPLESNOW.COM...

It's Rey!

"I'M JUST A PERSON, AND I HAVE TO EXPRESS MYSELF IN THAT WAY..." SAYS NOTED ROLE MODEL, BRITNEY SPEARS.

And personally, I believe her...
I'm trying to figure out how exactly I feel this week...Not really awake, too wired to sleep, and much, much too sick to my stomach to eat...Which is a good thing...
Gene is in Mexico (Boo.), Derk is probably plotting my destruction at the hands of Jimmy Fallon (Moo.), and Mr. Plyler thinks I've read The Grapes Of Wrath (Woo.)...It's a rather amusing concept, when you get down to it...
I'm still blessed with a large gash in my thumb thanks to my insane efforts at cleaning up the Prop Storage room...
And Footloose is tomorrow...Which means that it's almost December...I'm a bit more than a month away from 17...Odd...And APeX is probably coming in January...Which could not make me happier...
How pathetic. I hope I'm not falling back into that cycle...I don't think I am, though. I'm not feeling too insanely teeny-bopper-ish, and that was a key sign last time...I'm just...revitalized by him and his presence...It feels good to know that he cares about me, and that he's as excited to see me as I am him...
Ugg. I have to stop writing this.

MY OWN LITTLE SCREENPLAY...WITH MEG RYAN AND TOM HANKS...AN UNLIKELY PAIRING, INDEED.

Take a peek at the comedic genius...

HIGH, HO. HIGH, HO. IT'S OFF TO LANG I GO...

I revised my essay, and sold my soul to Satan.
The day is off to a good start.

TROGDOR THE BURNINATOR HAS COME TO WIPE AWAY THE SEMINOLE TOWN CENTER...BUT NOT BEFORE NOON.

Stranded in a mall. Sounds like a typical girl's dream vacation. Not Kelley's. She was relatively upset upon finding that not only was her morning wasted until noon, but no good looking men happened to be setting up shop as she sat in a Lay-z-Boy, dazed and confused, wondering why she'd be condemned to a fate of loafing around in an empty, freezing mall at 11 AM on a Sunday.
And then, Kelley's-Not-So-Emo-Self kicked Emo-Kelley in the ass.
And it was a good day.
I'm actually relatively relieved. I have gravel for the microphones, I have-- really penetratingly green eyes, I'm just realizing...Sorry. Looking in the mirror while I'm typing probably isn't the best idea...What was I saying? Um, something about microphones, therefore leading to the troll, therefore obviously and inevitably leading to a Derk story...
Horrah!
So, I called up Mary while she was in the SMM NCYC meeting, and of course, before I hung up, I yelled, "And punch Fr. Derk for me..."
Ironically enough, Derk was sitting next to her. And he heard me.
He, then proceeding to grab my mother's cell phone, and murmuring "Hello" into the speaker, forced Kelley to lose all recognition of thought, except disgust and utter loathing, and hang up the phone.
And now, Kelley is "ex-communicated."
Ha, ha!
It's been a very nice Sunday, says the Not-So-Emo-Me.

"IT'S THE FIRE OF...WAIT...WHAT'S MY LINE AGAIN?"

I would have been joyful if !HERO had ended up being what I thought it was going to be...But it wasn't. It was by no means a "Rock Opera", but much more of a Audio Adrenaline concert with special guest stars Michael Tait, Rebecca St. James, and Kelley Smith, the sole person in the audience that was disgruntled over the fact that Tait most definately was a rock star, not an actor...
But I must say- If Jesus was that good looking, he would not have been single...
Sleep is so far beyond me, I fear that I will not find rest for at least another day...But that's alright. Tomorrow, I'm planning on having a little Drama III rehersal at the pad, just to go over the ensemble scene that Nick, Elis, Chaz, and myself have to block and- Oh, that's right- LEARN!
I shall sleep in tomorrow, then reherse, then waste my evening at "The Brantley"...It will be alright, I suppose...At least I'll have something entertaining to keep me distracted...No, not Elis, silly blog. I'm talking about the hand-held device that will beep and rumble at random times in the midst of the show...
That is what they mean by active participant, right?
I am currently "not" thinking about Gene (Which could very well mean I "am"...I don't know how those quotation marks negate effectively, so I just decided to put them everywhere!), and I think that's a good thing...I don't know what I'm thinking right now.
Oh, well...Time for Physics!

EXCUSE ME WHILE I BLIND YOU WITH MY RADIOACTIVE BLING-BLING...I MEAN, SHIRT.

The FOOTLOOSE shirts are simply out of control...They're so bright, they glow in the dark. Which for me, is an entirely necessary thing out of a shirt. But others seem to deem it a distraction, or possibly worse, a need to burn me to the ground with flammable chemicals...
In other news, I made it into the APeX chat last night...For two minutes...I said "Hi" to Gene at the exact moment my new computer decided to shut down due to the Breaker Virus that my father had yet to patch up...But at least I said hello...I really hope he saw it...
Mary took me to Thriftko last night, and we shopped the night away...I bought things, she paid for them, and in my opinion, that makes it an overly wonderful relationship...

I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT...

F. Murray Abraham is so much cooler than Tom Hulce...

Hold Me, I'm Scared!

Kelley, how are you not completely freaked out that someone wrote a play about us?! I am terrified! Although, it is kind of cool to be the "Black Widow" . . .
Now, where exactly did you find this play? Are you sure you didn't write it just to make me lose my mind, allowing you to watch and laugh? [Editor's Note: As much as I wish I had made it up, I have to honestly tell you that I Googled your name, and that was what ended up coming up...Eerie? I think so...] I'm going to tell myself you did so I won't wake up screaming tonight. And one more weird coincidence: December 16, the date the play was written, is my dad's birthday. Creepiness . . .

SOMEONE WROTE A PLAY ABOUT ELIS AND MYSELF...A LITTLE ODD? I THINK SO.

I'm scared to death...They made me a dumb waitress...And Elis is this "Black Widow"...It's rather amusing, and eerie at the same time...
But enough about that. The day has been alright. A little stressful, but relatively normal. Sane, if you will. I can't stop thinking about next week, nor can I stop thinking about Thursday...And Michael...Ahh...Sweet, sweet Michael...
I'm actually excited about !HERO now that The Drama III Horror Show is done and over with...It's time to kick back, relax, and learn my NCYC monolouge...
If Maureen even remembers I have one...

I'M A VAMPIRE AND THAT'S OKAY: I DRINK BLOOD AT NIGHT AND SLEEP ALL DAY.

More of a "Paula Poundstone" Vampire, if you must know...
I'm also in a better mood than otherwise expected. I'm content today, because I realize that I have very little work to accomplish, and very little energy to worry about that which I cannot accomplish...I'm doing good, honestly...
(A teensy bit lonely, but that varies not from The Regular Kelley.)
I'm ready to just goof around and enjoy the Halloween Holiday, etc...And laugh at people and their disgustingly rainbow fros...
It will be a good day.

I LOST MY CHANCE TO KILL ELIS, I STILL HAVEN'T WRITTEN MY PLAY, MY TOE IS SPRAINED, AND I'M IN LOVE WITH GENE...AGAIN.

Agh...I don't know one man that has ripped my heart out enough times to know how to put the pieces back together easelessly...I don't know how to count the number of aches I've accredited to him and his vagabond ways, and I don't know why I continue to weave in and out of my own little spell that I've crafted, convincing myself that it's all of his own doing and not that of my imagination...
And I missed him.
The Drama III show was canceled, and that would explain why my toe is sprained...At least, it does inadvertently. The rest of the story is whine and showy, and I have no time to explain, besides the fact that I'm glad it's done with and that we can move on as a class to grow and blah, blah, blah.
Deralic and I have a play that's due to Satan tomorrow, and I don't know how well it's going to go...We haven't worked hard, and it's going to show. He hasn't put any effort into it, which means that Kelley gets to write the entire thing over the course of the next day...Goodie!
I just don't know how I feel right now. I'm sick to my stomach, my toe aches, and I don't know if I'm willing to wait for two weeks to come and the chance to see Gene...
Because I missed him.

I SLEPT THROUGH "THE RUNDOWN", AND AS FAR AS I KNOW, I DIDN'T MISS ANYTHING...

It stars The Rock, people. How much could I have missed out on?
Ahh...So very exhausted I am, but ready to hang out with Mr. Plyler for two hours...And then with Backel for seven...Okay, maybe not with Backel, but P-Dawg won't kill me...
I think.
I'm so ready for NCYC. I want more than anything a chance to hang out with the amazing people that I've been missing for so long...And guys. I want guys, too. Hot guys. Guys that look like James. Or comparable. But I'm not picky.
I need to stop writing...No logical train of thought exists anymore...

WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE DEITY? KELLEY IS...

Ugg...Who gave me the idiotic notion of inviting someone like her onto my blog...A ridiculous waste of time, in my own, trustworthy opinion...As if she was my friend or something...
The thought makes me chuckle.
Now that's my kind of pumpkin...
I'm completely and entirely exausted, but I'm not really concerned with anything right now...It's not as if I don't care (even if I don't), but I don't have the energy to bother with the things that people are whining about right now...I have three shows to prepare for in the next two weeks, and I don't have the time or energy to waste dealing with the relentless crap of mindless drones, better known as my peers...
Except for Elis. She can drone to me...I don't mind...
Casey Woller? She can go die...That would be nice, actually...
"HAH!"
That's what she sounds like. A whiny rat. That whines. Whiny biznit.
Geez...Even I don't look that bad...
Elis- I'm sure this is Nathan AND Kenneth...
I'm off to plan my career at Seminole Community College...
Hoorah!

I Hate Bugs! I Say We Squish Them All!!!

Except if the bug is named Kelley! ;)

I'm glad to hear that you got to rest some this week, since you've lost so much sleep doing your AP American homework. [Editor's Note: Yeah, right.] Seriously though, I'm glad you got some rest, because this week has been really stressful with all the Homecoming festivities and no Elis to go to the game with you. Sorry! I at least hope the pumpkin patch was fun...

By the way, I'm honored to get to contribute to your prestigious blog! :)
[Editor's Note: You better believe you are. Kelley is God. Feel more than honored. Feel beatified.]

ELIS HAS A BLOG, AND I CAN BUG HER ABOUT IT...BUG.

Ahh...A good week since I've had the opportunity to sit and relax and extend my waist out much further with the help of Pizza Hut...What a nice feeling...
I've had a rough week, tedious few days, but I think I'll survive...It may take hours, or years, or a few milliseconds to catch up on my days of missed sleep, but I don't really care...I'll be fine.

jengerh: honestly, i wouldn't want to run into her in a back alley when she's drunk (or sober for that matter) and angry and bitter....
jengerh: *shudders* i pity you greatly
me: it would be amusing to see her slur, though...
jengerh: LOL! yes, that it would

And that, my friends, is all I need to survive this travesty we call life...
That, and a Master Carpenter.

READY FOR HOMECOMING GOODNESS? I DON'T THINK YOU ARE...

But I'll give it to you anyway...

Red. Purple. Orange. More colors than otherwise humanly possible, strewn about on an array of formalwear, sinisterly intent on wasting $60 of a student’s hard-earned (or borrowed) money. Now, let’s not forget the other expenses that pounded into our spirited minds over the last few chaotic weeks, such as food, tickets, and undeniably, transportation.
That, my friends, is my experience with a deity we all know and love, Homecoming.
Without trying, a simple evening intended to illuminate and make content our high school existences, can single-handedly wipe budgets clean and erupt into a mass of chaotic fury, all in a convenient little five-hour package. In “school dance mode”, stress is King, and the anger and frustration of getting prepared for what should be one of the more exciting aspects of a student’s career suddenly becomes the primary focus of the ever-impending evening. But the “tension” of the evening isn’t even what destroys my fun:
It’s the formalwear.
Never, ever will I claim to be fashionable, or even capable of wearing things (let alone clothing) that society would consider interesting on a human being. My fashion-conscious nature tends to lean on the “I-hope-you-only-paid-fifty-cents-for-that” genre. Nonetheless, I take pride in my lack of fashion sense. Not only does it define me as “One of THOSE kids”, but it allows my own sense of creativity to reign supreme. Now, ask me to pick out a gown- an actual dress normally intended to be worn by a member of the more-feminine species- and I’ll take the hours normally spent searching and sewing to laugh heartily in your face. Ha! A dress!
Inevitably, every dream must fall. Mine plummeted viciously to the cold earth one early morning last year, the moment I read the dress code for the Homecoming dance. It demanded that in order to enjoy myself in the company of the student body, in celebration of our Fall sports and general school giddiness, I would be forced to bear the brunt of the world’s little joke on myself: The Dress. I decided to hold my head high, stepping into the crossfire of retail stores intent on stealing my soul (but with that tasty, Gap flair!), and more importantly, my wallet. Weeks flew by. The days seemed to wash together in a glazed sense of the impending danger and my undeniable doom. But I’d yet to find a dress.
On the Tuesday before “the big HC”, I gave up all remaining hope. I forgot the questions screaming across the wide-screen-stadium-seating-theatre of my mind, and decided to fall into the pit of final decent: THE MALL. I wish I could convey the actual emotion in those draining three hours, provide a suitable image of the pain and disgust that followed as I realized that there are indeed human beings, still living and breathing, that can loosely (and the key word is “loosely”) fit into a size “0”. Although several things, better classified as “pretzels”, left me sidetracked, I did, eventually find a dress suitable enough to be worn outside the safety of my own closet, and for a convenient, one-time price of two Alexander Hamiltons.
Although I’m not completely sure, I believe that the dress has been worn a total of three times (including this year’s event), if, indeed, I decided to make myself present at any other formal events beyond that first experience. And perhaps, it’s time to retire my orange gown and begin a new trek, an exploration for another “perfect find” that will tide me over for a good two, maybe three years. But I don’t think so. After all, I’m all for sparing myself public humiliation and keeping my non-existent budget intact.
Lucky for me, Juniors don’t have to worry much about Prom attire.

I WISH I WAS A DRUNK CHICK, SO THAT I COULD GET "HAMMERED" TONIGHT...IF ONLY I KNEW WHAT "GETTING HAMMERED" MEANT...

Tonight is Halloween Horror Nights, a first in Kelley's book of unimaginable things...Excited, yes. Petrified, not totally, but working up to it...
Ohh, speaking of terror, here's a site that may be too much for the littlest eyes...
I'm actually pressed for time, not to any insane, desperate degree, but enough to signify that it's almost the end of Thursday, leaving me with very little "vacation" left...Saddness...The fact that I haven't been in contact with Elis makes me a little more weary, thinking that in all possibility, she may not even have the energy to get herself together and ready on Saturday to spend a day of Birthday Fun. Today is her 17th, but the dreaded St. Augustine tears us apart yet again...
God, it sounds like we're dating.
Eww...I could never be a lesbian...Too much work...Girls are whiny and annoying...
Duh! James Barbour! That's why I can't be a lesbian.

I don't know if I feel validated or consoled in writing anything down about Erin's death. Excuse me. Suicide. It feels unjust to rank her passing in the same category of those facing "natural causes", "illness", or dare I say it, "accidental impalement". Cruel? Yes, that was innately cruel. But it fits. Why waste my God-fearing energy on something as momentary as this? Why shed a tear? Why place her hatred of me on a pedestal to wave around shouting boldly, "Look at me, she hurt ME, not anyone else. They didn't know her! They didn't understand her! Look at me!"
But I can't do that. I never could. It's not a matter of her dying and my living, it's a matter of her dying and my death within that rage she embodied, a rage no one else seems to realize the existance of or give credit where credit is due.
That's all I can muster up at the moment. I'll let you know if I can pull anything else out...

NO WAYNE, ANNOYING TOURISTS, TALKING MICKEY, TWO TIMES THE JACK-NESS, AND THE "IN-" WORD I HAVE NO HOPE IN REMEMBERING...

This, readers, was the extent of my weekend.
Enjoyable it was to some degree, and although a little musty when it came to details, The Disney Experience was one I choose to repeat---Oh wait. I mean "not repeat." Fervently. Jen is the only one who can truly understand this, seeing as we're the only two (besides the willing tourists) who had to sit through the Vibrating Mickey lecture...It was not as entertaining as I had hoped...
But we did see Wayne Brady posters and parking spaces...
Beyond that, my weekend only consists of one true, constant thing- Jack Black. Not just Jack, but his amazingness and glory and magnitude among all who try to quash his greatness. He's magno.
*Just the thought of Ah-nold taking the seat of Govenor gives me hope for a brighter future and/or acting career...*
I have to finish baking cookies, murdering B-Camp for devious plots to ruin my friendship with Elis(e), and still find room to dream longingly about the man of my dreams...Derk...
Or not.

WHO CARES IF THE IDIOT SPELLS HIS NAME "KELLY"...I'LL STILL VOTE FOR HIM...

This California recall thingy is getting a bit out of hand...

"NOW THIS TREAT EXEMPLIFIES PURE CANDY PERFECTION..."

Goody...JenGerh's Candy Article Of Death...
Nice.

FRUITY, SMOKED HOT DOGS...

Who wouldn't want to smell like that, Lindsey?

WHO'S GOING TO SEE WAYNE BRADY? KELLEY IS...YES, I THINK SO...FOOL.

Amazingness...Absolute amazingness...Monday is my chance to visit his show, and there is no chance that I will let the opportunity slip...It's amazingness...
And we have no school...
Hoorah.

TALK ABOUT YOUR "CULTURE EXCHANGE"...

Possibly the world's greatest poster idea...

WE'RE OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD-- EHH...NOT SO MUCH...

Elis(e) and Nicola should be joining me to watch How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying, which should be immensely enjoyable...Maybe not the show, but the people...
I just can't wait to go back to classes tomorrow...Oh yeah, we have our "Vector Treasure Hunt" tomorrow in Physics! Horrah! I'm leaping and giddy with anticipation.
And dripping of sarcasm.
It's a messy blog, this one.

AS A MATTER OF FACT, THE ZOMBIE POPULACE IS THRIVING...THANKS FOR ASKING.

"If you need a certified copy of your death certificate, you should contact the Certification Unit of the Oregon Center for Health Statistics."

IT'S HARD TO INTIMIDATE THE MASSES WHEN YOUR HAIR IS IN PIGTAILS...

Or so I've heard...Not that I'd be caught dead in the things...But I'm wearing them right now...
What's that Barenaked Ladies line?
"Bye, bye self-respect..."
Anyway, the first four hours of today were nice...Tolerable, even fun. But then the world slid grudgingly downhill in a fashion I've yet to see imitated by even the greatest of psychotic event coordinators...That is, of course, assuming that there is such a position, and if so, I would be proud to take it upon myself at some point in the near future...
Eggs...
I'm fine at this point...Everything "bad" that happened is done with and forgotten, and now I lie tired and not-so-ready to scapple through Pleasure Island with my--Gasp!--family.
My mind continues to trail back to AP Lang this morning and P-Dawg's shocked (Horrified, if you will...) face in chaotic laughter over my ungodly evil hair...I found it amusing that he couldn't look at me without laughing...And he even tried to deny it, but rolled into stitches before he could finish his meager pleas...Ha...I will hold power over him yet...
And then, of course, the one question I haven't allowed my mind to grapple through for more than a few minutes...I don't even want to think about it, but the fact that the situation was proposed to me in a fury of logic makes me even more wary of it's actual consequence on my life and what I may not have been embracing (No pun intended, even though you wouldn't see how it's a pun, simply because you, meager mortals, have no idea where, who, when, or what The Kelley is speaking of...Sucks to be you...) for the last two years...
Arr...
I need to go rest...Maybe I'll gain insight from my dreams...
Ha! That's funny!

BOING.

We just watched the "Bouncing Bear" footage a possible ten times...It was amazing, and I plan to form a religion around that two minute piece of footage...
The end...

MR. MOMARY'S QUOTE OF DEATH (AND/OR PUNISHMENT)...

"Only if those crappers have the balls to come see me..."

ANOTHER HEADLINE WORTHY OF INNATE CULTISM...

Bennifer Seeks Gun Permit

THE SEASON PREMIER IS IN LESS THAN TWO HOURS, AND KELLEY IS STILL LOOKING FOR HER CHEESEHEADHAT...

You know! For the die-hard fans...
I honestly believe that the WB stalked Elis(e) and I for the last few months and based that commercial off of our Gilmore-esque interactions...
I'm giddy with impending excitement! A new Gilmore! One that might hold some sexy Luke shots, and at best, a good tension scene with some possibility of...Well, I have no idea what, exactly, but something well worth watching...
So watch, loser...
You know you want to...
All the cool kids are doing it...

THE DEAD MUSICAL GOD HAS HIS OWN BLOG, THANKS TO THE GENEROUS SUPPORT OF BLOGGER...

You can find my ramblings here, although I almost guarantee that I won't use it frequently...I just wanted the site name...
Clever, huh?

AND THE WORLD STOPS IN AN EERIE, OPPRESSED SOUND...

Casey has been silent for over a half hour.
Nothing seems right at the moment...

TERRORIST THREATS IRRADICATED? YOU DECIDE...

Although I frankly I doubt that the terrorists would ever have dealt with the traffic, which is a horrible mess. "The hell with terrorism, let's go home," is what they would have said.

OH, THE PROFOUND IDIOCY OF BLACKBOARD!

I don't think I care to remain with that herd of "AP" students who post nonsensical things like "lol" and "OMG!" and the myriad of ignorant shit that makes me proud to say I am educated at Moron High.
I want to be on the AP Literature board...

AN EYE FOR AN EYE, I SAY...

He shoved me first. That's all I'm saying. Now, read the story and see if it amuses you to an intense degree. If it doesn't, than I'm sorry to say that you are Fr. Derk. That means that you should already be in your "big, lonely house, crying into a pillow", as is quoted from the aforementioned Holy Man.
Read on. Enjoy. Maybe eat some cookie dough. Whatever works for you...
Tonight was Session Number Two of what the new YM has deemed "Sunday Session", a basic bible study for the five high schoolers in the parish that don't find Derk creepy and sadistic...Not that I do...(In fact, I think I've decided I'd like to send him a card...I just wonder what I could get the personal message to say...)
Besides the normal "coping with SMM" stuff, it was a relatively good evening...Nothing too ignorant for my taste, only one real Prince Of Evil encounter: One of the kids needed to get into the Youth Room, but I, being keyless, had no way to help...When suddenly, he himself emerged, and there was darkness throughout the hallway. I fearlessly beckoned out into the corridor, "Do you have keys? Oh, that's right-- You're the Associate Pastor. They don't trust you with things like that!"
He gave me that evil look stating, "I know you're right, but I'm going to throw a fit so that you think I'm being insulted by your pseudo-wit..." A look to which Kelley laughed. And it was a good, hearty laugh.
Derk then turned around, fetched his keys, dangling them in front of my eyes with majesty and supreme delight, and said, "You need to get into the room, huh? Well, only for you..." At that point, he was looking (Ugg...I dare not type this utter desecration of my person, but I must remain accurate to my story...Okay, here goes...) almost lovingly into my eyes (But more in an admirable sense, as an uncle looks upon his niece, or a father upon his daughter...It still FU*KING creeps me out, though!)...
To which, Kelley thoughtfully retorked, "Umm...Save that for her." Her, of course, being the kid standing next to me...And Derk, following through subserviently with my too-educated command, says, "Okay, then...Only for you," grudgingly looking back at me and just barely glancing at the girl. He unlocks the door, steps back to let her enter, then glares at me, blinks, smiles, chuckles to himself, pokes me playfully on the arm, and slinks away...
Creepy SOB...
After the meeting was finished, he had bored me to death, tried to throw things at me in his little white "muscle" Polo shirt, and accused me of cheating on some amazingly simple "Biblical Quiz Questions", or as I would like to refer to it, "Search Through The Bible Like Some Poor, Deprived Circus Monkey In Need Of Pre-occupation (To Keep From Obvious Suicide And/Or Murder Seeing As It Is A Circus Monkey I'm Talking About) And Find Some Answers To Dumb Mathematical Questions So That It Looks Like I've Taught You Something With My Ignorant Waste Of Collar I Call The Preisthood And Seminary Training"...It was enlightening...Truly...
I made my way back into the Youth Room to get a soda and some pizza, and of course, he follows me inside, literally walking with me to each and every thing I move to take a look at...The air hockey table, fooseball, video games, more pizza, and he's there, at my back, the entire time...Finally (And I say finally with great relief, as I did mentally at that point...), he starts to leave, and shoves me into the couch. Shoves. Not pushes. Not brushes, lightly taps, gently nudges, but shoves me, with his ginormous, Hunchback shoulders...
"Oops! Sorry about that..."
With the sarcastic overtone, what I do next would be much more justifiable...But I can't really relay the true sarcasm in the sentence...Oh well...
So, I jumped up and shoved him back...And he hit the wall...And the door...And a surfboard that was hanging up on one of the walls that just happened to choose my moment of glory and revenge to make a break for the Atlantic seaboard...
He winced with pain, and I laughed. Well, everyone laughed, to be honest. But it felt good to watch him drudge on home, knowing that Kelley possessed not only strength and edge, but overwhelming telekinesis...
It's the little moments in life that count for the most.

"OVER AND OVER AND OVER, 'TILL I GET IT RIGHT..."

Chaz and Anthony left about an hour ago...It was good to just sit back and laugh with them...I've missed that...
We had a Footloose Saturday today...Lots and lots of fun. Or not. Either way, I'm content with throwing a few things over the Troll's head, not to mention joining her close circle of favorites...
At least today was productive...
I finally recieved both the tick, tick...BOOM! and the !HERO CD's, both autographed by their three leads...And Michael Tait's signature is so adorable...Ahh...He touched it...Mmm....Same with that sexy beast Raul Esparza...
Horrah for Kelley and her signature scouting techniques!
I'm going to try to sleep a bit...Not too much, but a bit...Just to convince myself that I'm not dying...
Just remember:
B-0
K-1

ARG, ME HEARTIES...

It's National Talk Like A Pirate Day.
My peg leg is itching...I have to get my parrot to scratch it for me...I can't even see with this eyepatch on...
Yo, ho...
Arg.

HURRICANE PREPAREDNESS GUIDE
Dave Barry

We're entering the heart of hurricane season. Any day now, you're going to turn on the TV and see a weatherperson pointing to some radar blob out in the Atlantic and making two basic meteorological points:

1. There is no need to panic.

2. We could all be killed.

Yes, hurricane season is an exciting time to be in South Florida. If you're new to the area, you're probably wondering what you need to do to prepare for the possibility that we'll get hit by "the big one." The best way to get information on this topic is to ask people who were here during Hurricane Andrew (we're easy to recognize, because we still smell faintly of b.o. mixed with gasoline). Based on our experiences, we recommend that you follow this simple three-step hurricane preparedness plan:

STEP 1. Buy enough food and bottled water to last your family for at least three days.

STEP 2. Put these supplies into your car.

STEP 3. Drive to Nebraska and remain there until Halloween.

Unfortunately, statistics show that most people will not follow this sensible plan. Most people will foolishly stay here in South Florida. If you're one of those people, you'll want to clip out the following useful hurricane information and tuck it away in a safe place so that later on, when a storm is brewing, you will not be able to locate it.

We'll start with one of the most important hurricane preparedness items:

HOMEOWNERS' INSURANCE -- If you own a home, you must have hurricane insurance. Fortunately, this insurance is cheap and easy to get, as long as your home meets two basic requirements: (1) It is reasonably well built, and (2) It is located in Nebraska. Unfortunately, if your home is located in South Florida, or any other area that might actually be hit by a hurricane, most insurance companies would prefer not to sell you hurricane insurance, because then they might be required to pay YOU money, and that is certainly not why they got into the insurance business in the first place. So you'll have to scrounge around for an insurance company, which will charge you an annual premium roughly equal to the replacement value of your house. At any moment, this company can drop you like used dental floss. Since Hurricane Andrew, I have had an estimated 27 different home-insurance companies. This week, I'm covered by the Bob and Big Stan Insurance Company, under a policy which states that, in addition to my premium, both Bob and Big Stan are entitled, on demand, to my kidneys.

SHUTTERS -- Your house should have hurricane shutters on all the windows, all the doors, and -- if it's a major hurricane -- all the toilets. There are several types of shutters, with advantages and disadvantages:

-- Plywood shutters: The advantage is that, because you make them yourself, they're cheap. The disadvantage is that, because you make them yourself, they will fall off.

-- Sheet-metal shutters: The advantage is that these work well, once you get them all up. The disadvantage is that once you get them all up, your hands will be useless bleeding stumps, and it will be December.

-- Roll-down shutters: The advantages are that they're very easy to use, and will definitely protect your house. The disadvantage is that you will have to sell your house to pay for them.

-- "Hurricane-proof" windows: These are the newest wrinkle in hurricane protection: They look like ordinary windows, but they can withstand hurricane winds! You can be sure of this, because the salesman says so. He lives in Nebraska.

"HURRICANE PROOFING" YOUR PROPERTY: As the hurricane approaches, check your yard for movable objects such as barbecue grills, planters, patio furniture, visiting relatives, etc.; you should, as a precaution, throw these items into your swimming pool (if you don't have a swimming pool, you should have one built immediately). Otherwise, the hurricane winds will turn these objects into deadly missiles. (If you happen to have deadly missiles in your yard, don't worry, because the hurricane winds will turn THEM into harmless objects).

EVACUATION ROUTE -- If you live in a low-lying area, you should have an evacuation route planned out. (To determine whether you live in a low-lying area, look at your driver's license; if it says "Florida," you live in a low-lying area.) The purpose of having an evacuation route is to avoid being trapped in your home when a major storm hits. Instead, you will be trapped in a gigantic traffic jam several miles from your home, along with two million other evacuees. So, as a bonus, you will not be lonely.

SUPPLIES: If you don't evacuate, you will need a mess of supplies. Do not buy them now! South Florida tradition requires that you wait until the last possible minute, then go to the supermarket and get into vicious fights with strangers over who gets the last can of Spam. In addition to food and water, you will need the following supplies:

-- 23 Flashlights.

-- At least $167 worth of batteries that turn out, when the power goes out, to be the wrong size for the flashlights.

-- Bleach. (No, I don't know what the bleach is for. NOBODY knows what the bleach is for. But it's traditional, so GET some, dammit!)

-- A 55-gallon drum of underarm deodorant.

-- A big knife that you can strap to your leg. (This will be useless in a hurricane, but it looks cool.)

-- A large quantity of bananas, to placate the monkeys. (Ask anybody who went through Andrew; after the hurricane, there WILL be irate monkeys.)

-- $35,000 in cash or diamonds so that, after the hurricane passes, you can buy a generator from a man with no discernible teeth.

Of course these are just basic precautions. As the hurricane draws near, it is vitally important that you keep abreast of the situation by turning on your television and watching TV reporters in rain slickers stand right next to the ocean and tell you over and over again how vitally important it for everybody to stay the hell away from the ocean.

At that point, if you've prepared all you can, there's frankly nothing left to for you to do but pray. I mean for a really BIG wave.

THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS...OR EMAIL SYSTEM...EITHER WAY.

I'm doing a little "Internet Spring Cleaning"...Here's a blast from the past:
Some of you got the wrong impression from the messages I sent out last night. Some of you *cough, cough, KAREEM, cough* were even kind enough to remind me that you have lives aside from reading my sarcastic commentary.
After several minutes of laughing to myself, falling off the chair, and gasping for breath, I realized that there may be the slightest bit of reality in that statement (I say slight, simply because I personally don't believe it, but am willing to play along with your own little fantisies...).
Therefore, I would like to make a statement so huge, so earthshattering, you may need to change your pull-ups...
KELLEY IS INSANE.
Yes, I know you'll all need some form of therapy from this, but I'm willing to front 100 times of whatever this email cost to send out (which is obviously nothing) to pay for the bills.
I'll be back...After my shrink and I have a little talk...
-me
Ahh, the days when I was young and careless and free of any rational thought...
I'll go work on that thought thing.

"I NEED A HERO; I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO 'TILL THE END OF THE..."---OH, WAIT: I HAVE JEREMY JAMES...OKAY, NEVERMIND.

Elis(e) and I kidnapped my parents and viewed Toxic tonight at the Helen Stairs theatre...God, it was gorgeous...
(Not just the theatre...Rene...Oh, my poor, unloved Rene...They ignore him so much, it makes me gag with giddiness! And then, there's our newfangled love of Jeremy, who suddenly looks like a James Barbour clone as a result of his rehabilitation from almost-dying...Nice...)
Anyway, I finally snatched the nerves to talk to Rene, and he gave me the "nod and smile" treatment, simply reminding me that I can email him and possibly (He wouldn't even say "yes", just "possibly"...), they would be able to give me an interview for the paper...
Can you say burn? I knew you could...
(Although, I must mention that he then proceeded to "accidentally gouge me in the shoulder with his Sharpe as he walked past me and into the arms of his girlfriend"...Oh yeah...He wants me...)
Hmm...What else was eventful? Ooh! I went inside the theatre around 6:30 before the show (Trying to get tickets...), and I talked to the house manager about getting backstage or something kooky like that...He then took me inside the Orchestra level, and proceeded to point at Paul, saying, "Talk to him, he's their sound guy."
To which, Kelley retorted-
"No, that's Paul."
The house manager stared at me blankly as if I had just declared that Spar-a-zz-a-zz-a-zz-a was Moses and carrying a long staff that was dripping wet and viciously staining the theatre carpet. He, the FREAKING HOUSE MANAGER, obviously had no idea who Paul Sparazza was, and/or the fact that he's a member of TA.
To which, Kelley laughed.
I completely forgot the rest of whatever I was going to say, beyond the fact that Jeremy is gorgeous and very married...
Oh! Holy Batman Clichés! I have remembered!---
TOXIC AUDIO IS GOING TO HAVE AN OFF-BROADWAY SHOW!
Elis(e) and I have already decided that we're going to ditch our St. Augustine plans and just drive up to New York to go see them...Maybe we'll just move to NYC...Watch shows, avoid school, audition, write...
Ahh...The Life...
I'll have more to write at some point, but I just need to go bask in the toxicity of it all...
Ha! I'm funny!

ANOTHER JOHN BITES THE DUST...

Johnny Cash and John Ritter...
Damn.

THE QUOTE I'LL BE FORCED TO LIVE WITH FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE:

"Plyler loves you, this we know; for your 'A' has told me so..."

FINALLY. A HEADLINE I PLAN TO LIVE MY LIFE IN COMPLETE ACCORDANCE WITH...

"German Cop Beaten Up By Dwarf Kangaroo"

JEN-GERH'S DEADLINE MESSAGE OF MAGIC...

"Like, ohmigod guys, like, deadline, is like tomorrow! Like I sooo, like, didn't, like, notice!
Moral: suffer a devastatingly painful death or do your spread. Take heed. Grr.
NOW GO
Invite technology and PageMaker to have a bonding experience with you. It won't be fun, but that's not my problem."

KELLEY'S BRIDGE IS A PIECE OF CRAP, A PIECE OF CRAP, YO, YO, A PIECE OF CRAP...

But something worth pity, I must add...
(Jen-Gerh seems to like the Rap Version--I mean, REMIX--better.)
The cast list hasn't been posted at this point, and Leah and I have decided it's because Backel is sitting at Denny's smoking something I won't confirm, and laughing viciously over how she controls our existances so easelessly...And on she goes with the smoking and the evil laughter until she realizes it is close to 10:00 AM, and she must post something on the board to ease our shattered minds and maintain her unrelenting control over our mental frame of being...
"Congratulations to everyone who auditioned for cast and/or crew!
You all did a fantastic job!
But I hate you. So you will not find out until sometime into November, by which time I will have blocked, choreographed, and perfected FOOTLOOSE, with the cast of myself, and Bethany.
Have a great week, and we'll see you at the show!"
Watch. You know it'll happen.
After all, I know what she smokes...

'CAUSE EVERYONE IS ROCK-EM SOCK-EM ROBOTS...

I would say that my Jack Black fetish as of late is something that's been waiting to come to light for a long time now...I'm just tickled that the only way I happened to get the CD was by way of Casey, the self-proclaimed King Of I Don't Have Any CDs You'd Enjoy...
I cannot comprehend how I managed to recieve the only "A" in the Lang. department...It doesn't make sense to me...But Plyler loves me...And that's just plain exciting...Because that will make me prime for the Lackey position...
Horrah.
We begin auditioning for Footloose and the DIII show this week, and I'm almost positive I'm going to type up a letter for the Costume Coordinator position...I know Warren wants it, but so do I...I think I could do a fantastic job if Backel would just look past the fact that I'll be gone the week of Preview...Maybe I'll mention that I would love to share the position with him so that we have the balance of organization and leadership (Me) with costume knowledge and design expertise (Warrena...The Warrior Prince/Princess...).
That could work.
I'm not sure what to do about Elis...That sounds like an odd statement...It should be "I'm not sure what to do about me..." Because I'm not. I don't even know what's wrong, or if anything is wrong, but I don't feel right...
I guess I just need to take a huge breath, relax, and sit through an hour of mass...
Goodie!

THESE LOOK LIKE FUN GUYS TO HANG OUT WITH...

Unless you're allergic to fur...

WHY DOES KELLEY LOVE THE POPE?

Because he's so much fun to work with in Photoshop...

BEYOND ALL COMPREHENSION, KELLEY WANTS TO BE NAT HAWTHORNE'S BEST FRIEND...

So, I like The Scarlet Letter...Enjoy it, for that matter...And everyone hates me for this.
Whatever...
I'm feeling better about my incompetence as far as Lang is concerned...If I fail, I fail, and if I don't fail, Horrah! I'm just going to work harder than I've ever had to (Ironically, the exact reason I wanted to take the course in the first place...), and pray to the Gods Of Analysis that they take pity on me for doing something slightly drastic like building them a temple in the middle of Lyman's ghetto courtyard...
Heh. "Courtyard." That's probably too long a word for half of our students to adequately guess the meaning of...Maybe I should have a contest...
Money, money, money, money, and finally, money.
Something that our school lacks.
Oh well...We have P-Dawg...
That's all that counts.

IGNORED BY THE P-DAWG...HARSH...

Not that I'm saying Plyler ignored me this evening, but that's what I'm saying...Too bad I didn't have the nerves to approach him about my essay, or my participation, or any of the other crap that's driving me demonically insane...
Speaking of demonically insane, this seems like it has a likely chance at "Product Of The Year"...
Back to Kelley's I HATE LANG rant...
I don't hate Lang, I just hate the fact that I'm having an enormous amount of trouble with the Lang-ness that surrounds my being at the moment...Maybe, with some helpful Jen-Gerh tutoring and such, I'll be back on my feet soon enough, but for the time being, I just want to move beyond this rediculous feeling of insufficency and doubt...Which means I need to learn how to write...Which I have no rational hope of doing...Nice...
Alright. I have Slurpee blood coursing through my weary veins, a Letter of Scarlet to conquer, and a nonexistant need for sleep...My life is currently set.
Oooh. Forgot to mention- I'm on speaking terms with Emerson.
When does life start making sense?

TOO MUCH SCOTT? YOU DECIDE...

How I Almost Conquered the World
---------------------------------

I came up with a brilliant plan that would have allowed me to win the
governorship of California and eventually go on to rule the whole world. My plan
was that I would announce my candidacy and say that if elected I would let the
current governor, Gray Davis, run the state. I would even give him my governor's
pay.

Granted, he's hugely unpopular, but the winner of the next election will
probably only get 25% of the vote. If you add together the people who want to
keep the current governor, and the people who oppose the recall on principal,
it's at least 25%.

By now you are probably tingling from the brilliance of this concept. But
there's more. I could use the same strategy to run for president after Bush's
second term expires. I'd promise that if I won, Bush would be my chief of staff
and I'd do whatever he told me to do. Voters would think, "That cartoonist guy
did what he said in California, and we'd like a third term of Bush, so why not?"
Then after I won, I'd break all my promises and move into the White House.
People would whine, but I'd smooth it over with a joke, like "Hey, news flash,
people: politicians lie! Ha ha!" Then I'd order the army to attack France,
mostly to boost my popularity, but secondly to get more cheese for the DNRC.

I think the plan would have worked. But in the end I decided that ruling the
world was too much trouble. So I took a nap instead.

DOES SCOTT ADAMS MAKE THIS BLOG HAPPY? YOU DECIDE...

Ironic Banshees
---------------

You've probably heard the old saying, "She screamed like a banshee." I didn't
learn much about banshees in school but I deduce that they are dead people who
scream loudly. That seems unpleasant enough. But lately I have been learning
more about the bad qualities of banshees. I've overheard these nuggets from
people who apparently have detailed banshee knowledge:

"I had to pee like a banshee."
"My head hurt like a banshee."
"I was sweating like a banshee."

It's no wonder that banshees are rarely invited to parties. No one wants to hang
around with a screaming, peeing, sweating, dead person with a headache,
especially if beer is involved.

I've also learned recently that "ironic" means anything you want it to mean.
Example:

Me: "I heard that Bob was killed by a meteor."

Induhvidual: "Wow. That's ironic."

Me: "Why is it ironic? Was he an astronomer?"

Induhvidual: "No, it's ironic because, you know, what are the
odds?"

Me: "So anything unlikely is automatically ironic?"

Induhvidual: "No, it also needs to be bad."

Me: "This conversation is ironic."

Induhvidual: "Shut up! You're making me pee like a banshee!"

DOES KELLEY FEEL LIKE THE MOST IDIOTIC PERSON ON THE PLANET? YES, YES SHE DOES.

I don't know what ever got me thinking that I was a good writer or that I had a chance at word-y-greatness or anything remotely intelligent or somehow corresponding to the English language...I am the most inferior person I've ever met...I have no hope at passing this class, I have no talent, no real understanding of how things will work for my inferior-ness, nor do I have the energy to contradict such thoughts...
I am in so much trouble...
Mr. Plyler, prepare to fail me.

THIS IS KELLEY POSTING CRAP SO THAT SHE CAN EXPAND HER AOL INSTANT MESSENGER PROFILE FOR THE 0 PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY TAKE THE TIME TO READ IT...

"Ironically enough, I would have thought, due to severe Disney brainwashing and years of misunderstood fairy tales, that trolls were strictly residents of Norway. But good God, Derek, does our troll prove those Epcot-a-holics wrong...So very, very wrong..."
Oh, yes, Backel is the troll that Derelic and I speak so vividly of...
But we mean it in a nice way...
Heh.

OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAKE THE HURTING STOP...OH, WAIT, GOD'S LAUGHING AT ME...NEVERMIND.

So, this obnoxiously creepy girl comes over to my house tonight, rides around the block with the Rat Boy, comes inside, and sits down next to me...
She then proceeds to call me a "couch potato", to make sure that my name was spelled K-E-L-L-E-Y instead of K-E-L-L-I-E, and then ponders over my slicked back hair, commenting on how she never sees me wear it that way.
Do I know who she is in the course of this trying ordeal?
"Of course not. That would make too much sense for Kelley's life. Let's send creepy stalker children to haunt her and pick up her hamster and nearly kill him and then look over her shoulder while she's reading email from Michael Tait and then see how she reacts to the girl asking for her AIM address and telling her that she needs to come visit at her house sometime..."
That, as if I needed to explain it to you, was the voice of God, laughing oh so effortlessly at how twisted my existance is, why I missed my bus while I tried desperately to scrape off mime makeup, and helping me to understand that walking around today with the seat of my pants ripped in half was truly a nice method of learning...
Oh, well...I'm not really that concerned with it all..."It all" of course acting as an implication of my maladjusted existance, and the fact that my family appears to be temporarially enthralled with the magic of Jackie Chan films...
Goodie!

LET'S DROOL OVER THE FRENCHMAN, THE FRENCHMAN, THE FRENCHMAN...LET'S DROOL OVER THE FRENCHMAN AND I CAN'T THINK OF A RHYME...

Drool.

"MOMMY, WHY CAN'T I BUY THE JAMES BARBOUR 'BACK FROM BROADWAY' TILE COASTER?"

I don't know...I just don't know...
Does having your face on a coaster add up to "selling out"?
Can a Musical Theatre star (With the term "star" used EXTREMELY loosely...) actually "sell out"?
These answers, and more, when we come back...

AND IF I HAD A VOICE, I THINK I'D USE IT...

Woot...Scrooge Moment...
Actually, with the exception of Casey and the Lack Of Seniors, it's been a relatively good morning...All ten, fifteen minutes of it, at least...And I'm continually lost for thought and/or words, the latter being the least of my worries...
I'm really excited about Mime Day...It's fun...It's just frustrating, and tedious to remain silent...Unless you're Kelley, and you never really talk anyway...Well, that's a lie...I do talk...A lot. But that's not my point...
Hell, I don't have a point...
Let's just look at a pretty picture....

MUST...DO...REVISIONS...OR NOT.

Because I care about Newspaper...Right...
And better yet, I'm being wittness to an arguement over quotation marks...
Funness.

"IT WAS THE BEST LEG I EVER HAD" SAYS THE MAN WHO LOST HIS PLASTIC APPENDAGE TO THE DUELING DRAGONS...

Irony of all ironies, I'd like a prosthetic leg...It would be amusing to have one and to rage fear on unsuspecting peoples who did not know that my leg was indeed fully intact...Hmm...Memo to self, I suppose...
The weekend was alright, but it's good to be back home...I mean, at school...And I have all of my cute little mimes to play with! Tomorrow will be a silenced hell, but you best be believin' I'll sugically attach myself to this monitor and keyboard...And with Jen updating my glorious planner, the planatary balance has once again been restored...
I need to think of what I want to write before I write it...

"GOD, IT'S LIKE BAD CLAYMATION...I MEAN---WHAT? HE WAS STILL ALIVE WHEN HE DID THIS? JEEZ..."

Elise and I spent the afternoon pondering over Richard Harris' demise, and how it would effect the remainder of the HP films...Of course, Sir Michael Gambon is taking over...But we spent a few minutes questioning whether or not they could just freeze Harris and prop him up to do scenes at random...I mean, you never actually need to see him speak or really act...He just needs to stand there...For instance, in this exerpt from the next script, Harris' frozen body could simply be positioned for "screen shots" as you will. Let's take a look at how something like this would work:

HARRY: Sir, I'm just sure what to do. I mean, I want to think that freeing Peter was the right thing to do, but should I really have done it?
(Cut to DUMBLEDORE.)
HARRY: Well, if you're saying I have to trust in myself, then I understand...But, Professor, what are you doing with all of those women?
(Cut to DUMBLEDORE.)
HARRY: You don't have to rub it in. I get it, sir. You're a pimp.
(Blackout.)

Ehh...So, maybe it wasn't the best idea we've ever had...After all, Gambon doesn't look that bad...
But how cool do they look thanks to Alfonso? Really cool.

BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT HARD CORE UNLESS YOU LIVE HARDCORE...

School Of Rock was amazing last night...I mean, amazing...It was so damn funny...And Adam Pascal was in it...And still, no one knows who Adam Pascal is...But he makes me smile...
And what more to say of Jack Black? The man is my rock god...He's amazing...
I can't wait until October 3rd...

ANGER SURGING...RAGE INCREASING...WANT TO KILL RISING...

She forgot to fill out our match forms. And she's not even saying that it was her fault.
She "most definately never said that."
For lack of better words, I hate her.

WE'RE OFF TO AP LANGUAGE, THE WONDERFUL PLYLER WHO'S GOD...

No time to type...Have to run...Going to see Jack Black's new flick with K-Max tonight...
Woo hoo.

AHH...

Antonio...Antonio...Hmm...

AND THE SENTINEL IS PROUD TO HAVE BUSH WRITING THEM AN OPINION COLLUMN? EXPLAIN THAT TO ME ONE MORE TIME, AND MUCH SLOWER...

I'm trying to compact months and months of research about this malpractice suit thingy (Which, ironically enough, makes for a rather interesting read if you translate into "redneck"...), and thereby destroying all the wildlife and/or tree resources...
I'm also amused by K-Max's awesome recipie reading skills...It's entertaining, and making me hungry...Not really...
Actually, I feel relatively sick...Not deathly ill, or anything, but sick...Enough to feel the pang in my gut and realize that I'm in the mood to roll over and die, but in a very artistic sense...
There are three pages of macaroni and cheese recipies...How hard can it be?
"Buy a box. Boil the water. Throw the entire box in, and cash in on the lawsuit money as soon as your house burns down, in which case you should rent a hotel room with a kitchen, go to the store, and buy another box. Rinse. Repeat."
See? Everything is easier when you ask Kelley what to do...

DARE I SHED A TEAR FOR THE KING OF TAP? INDEED...

57...What a short amount of time to live...Yet, how fully he did so...It pangs me to see the passing of such greatness, but how amazing a legacy to follow...Gregory did more in his short half-century than many combined lives have ever been privliged enough to do...It's these occurences that force me to take a deeper, more thorough look at my life so as to determine what miniscule mark I will make on the world...Will I have an Associated Press mention of my death? Or will I just be another dead body, unnoticed and uneffected except by those closest to me...
My one greatest dream/ambition/longing/need/hope:
That my obituary will be more than two paragraphs.
Thank you, Gregory. Thank you so much.

AND I LIKE HIM "WHY", YOU ASK?

That's why. Punk.

AND ONCE AGAIN, DAVE BARRY STEALS ALL OF MY FUNNY MATERIAL...

I never get a chance to hang out in St. Petersburg anymore (Not that I want to, I'm simply stating the obvious...), but it's always good to take a break and use Toddbert's high speed computer...And watch people get drunk...
That's pretty much everything that happens around here...
But that's not my point. We're leaving at seven-or-so tomorrow so that we can get to Sanford ("Home Of The Whopper And Flea Market!") for the 10:30 mass...Goody...Actually, mass is an "interesting subject" now that I finished watching Kevin Smith's masterpiece...
But we'll save that for another day...
I was just thinking about how I need to get out and practice driving...Elise has been non-stop about this St. Augustine Road Trip thingy, and Nick and Chaz are in on it too, so I need to get myself as excited as they are, I guess...I've been thinking about them a lot this weekend...We're turning into the "cool" Drama III's, and I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that...Not that it's bad, or that I can really see myself as "cool", but I'm worried about how other people will see us...We already made a pact that we wouldn't be the nasty "mean people" that occupy the current thrones (Not that Kelley would dare to mention any names...), which I honestly think means we're already letting it get to our heads...Ugg...
I don't want to be cool. I'm not. It shouldn't be a big problem...
I also wrote my first emotional diary...It's pretty good, actually...Not horrible, but I think I did what Backel is looking for...
Okay...I'm going to go practice my driving, as Barry whole-heartedly suggests...
He just needs to stop trying to be as funny as I am...Or else...

OH, GOD, WHY MUST YOU TAUNT ME WITH ALAN RICKMAN?

Isn't the fact that Nathan is gay enough torture? Oh well...
I just finished watching Dogma, and never before have I wanted so desperately to leap on an actor and loudly declare that he would have no hope in saving himself and might as well just give up and live with me...But beyond that, I found the movie touching, and religiously philosophical...It was intriguing...I want to go back in and fast forward to the last scene where A-Dawg has his hand on the "now pregnant Bethany", leading to the part where Kelley almost sends herself into convulsions over how godforsakenly sexy the man is...
Too bad he's old...
And "attached"...
And Alan Rickman...
And sexy...

WHY MUST FREDDY MERCURY HAUNT MY DREAMS? OH, WAIT. I LIKE THAT. NEVERMIND...

I'm in the midst of Newspaper trying to pretend that I'm doing work (Which is what Newspaper is all about, ironically enough. So, techincally, I am doing work...)
"Seasonal Band Member" is what Jen-Gerh and I deem a few of the members of Mogwai...Which is a Scottish band, for your mentally disturbed information...I'm excited about our continuing conversations about Circus Carnies and Movie God Stuff...Not to mention my startling wonderful Freddy Mercury dreams...Which are fantasmic, if I may add...
And I have to write a Showtune article, and a Malpractice suit article, and probably an article about howler monkeys and The Rock...
It's been a nice morning...

DOES IT CONCERN YOU THAT THIS BLOG HASN'T WRITTEN IN A WEEK? I DIDN'T THINK SO...

Agg...I'm so excited to go back to classes tomorrow, but I still have so much running through my brain...
-The Fall Musical...*Kelley screams with giddy excitement...*
-NCYC...*More giddy, obnoxious screaming...*
-Drama III...*Do you get the giddy thing yet?*
And so on, and so on...I still have my Plyler essay to finish, but hey, the miracle of 10 Minute BS has to reign supreme until college, at least...And that gives me, what, five hours to finish? Perfect!
I've now seen Pirates Of The Ca-ribb-ean three times, and needless to say, the only two faces being watched were Johnny Depp and more importantly, Jonathan Pryce...Jon Pryce has one of the most rediculously gorgeous voices I've ever heard in my life...Needless to say, he's a god...
Hmm...What more to disclose to my adoring public? Ooh, I met an Alan Cumming look-alike today at Downtown Disney ("The Hot Spot Of The Fake Rich And Famous!"), and he was from the lovely little province of Montreal, Canada...He didn't even know who Alan is, the poor good looking fool! Oh well...He was nice, anyway, but I'm sure he thought I was some maladjusted teenager looking for drugs or other drug parafinalia...
Which isn't too far from the truth, but a little harsh in my own opinion...

AHH...CAN'T MOVE...FOUND THE AIR CONDITIONING VENT...

Ohh...So very sore...
Well, I've officially been sleepless for the last five nights...At least I got to play a little bit of basketball last night...We stayed at "The Facility" in Sanford, and besides the cute bass gituarist, it relatively sucked...But not horribly...Just not the optimal lock-in spot...
Uggh...I need a personal chiropractor, preferably one that models Antonio Banderas to a shockingly similar degree...Hmm...Antonio...How I've missed thinking of you...
I've been listening to Hairspray and Nine for the last few days, and so all I'm thinking about is Harvey Firestein and Antonio...Which is not a bad thing if you have no life and/or responsibilities...Which is untrue of my own situation, except for the fact that I don't have a life, which is uncanilly true...And seeing as I'm back in school almost a week from now, I have an immensely great amount of work to complete, and that...How do I put it nicely?...Sucks.
And I still need a back rub...
Grr...Where's Tony when you need him?

"AND THIS WILL TEACH YOU THAT PIZZA AND VOLLEYBALL SIMPLY DON'T MIX" SAID THE LEMMING...

We had fun at All Souls this evening...It was good...There were footballs being thrown, soccer balls being mercilessly kicked, and tormented cookies aching for a stomach and digestive track to become a part of...
Most of them joined a little club I'd like to call "Kelley's Calorie Count"...
But that's not my point...The evening was relatively uneventful and yet rediculously relaxing and soothing for my current frame of mind...I was confident and happy...And a little tired. But that's not my focus either.
I'm so content to have finally found a church who's limitations don't lie with how little money you have, but with whether or not you've got enough room in your heart and enough courage to tell eight people that you've just met that you know you love them already, as my friend Danny just did...
It's been a wonderful, amazingly simple night...
And that's the best part.

WELL, IF CLAIRE METZ SAYS IT'S GOOD, THEN I GUESS WE HAVE TO BELIEVE HER...

I just finished up with my round 3 of Leadership Goodness at WESH News Channel Two studios along the darling little corridor of I-4, and honestly, it was an amazing amount of fun...We watched the noon newscast (Which was so relaxed...To my total disbelief, I must say...And Metz is really funny...Not George Stephanopo-popolo-popl-olos funny, but funny.), ate lunch (More like infant wolves ravaging over two trays of Paneras sandwiches and cookies, although no burnt cookies, if I may add...Apparently I'm the only person in the universe that enjoys burnt cookies...Freaks...) with Mark Middleton (Who is an anchor, not the sports guy, thank you very much...). We enjoyed ourselves, learned that no radio DJ ever looks like the sweet, charming voice he so cunningly displays on air, and otherwise tormented the poor media peoples who so naively invited us to their workplaces...Poor dumb media peoples...
I almost feel sorry for them--
Oh, nevermind.

FINALLY, I CAN LEGITIMATELY SAY THAT A GAY DANCE INSTRUCTOR NAMED STUART HAS BROUGHT ME TO TEARS...

And that was just Day Two of my Winter Park adventure! What new suprises do I have in store?!
Honestly, everything is perfectly jive as long as I don't end up like the frozen hockey man they found up in Austria...How ironic to die as a result of (Basically) your livlihood...I wish I could figure out how to live my life so as to not end up dead and frozen...I'm now in complete paranoia of skiing...
At least I spent my final hours learning how to swing dance...Or not...Because I'll obviously be faced with option of death or dancing...Maybe my captor would be a nice one...
I'd choose death.

PETE THE FISH WILL BE MINE...

Evil Laugh!
Anyway, today was the first of my Leadership: Winter Park adventure. And I kicked today's rear. Severely. I mean, it ran away looking for a doctor and some pillows to sit on.
But enough of my greatness. I was a bit nervous of the Muffy&Buffy atmosphere, but I ended up working well with the other kids, sharing my toys, and all that jazz...
However, there was a fish that one of the leaders is going to give away at the end of the week, and I have my sights set on it...Heh...
I'm taking over, little sight-seeing town!

WHAT I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO HAVE SAID TO DERK'S FACE LAST NIGHT AT CHURCH:

"Hey, over-grown storybook character who-can't-walk-so-he-shuffles-instead, go annoy some other God-forsaken teenager who thinks you're the human equivlent to Anthrax...Buy yourself a pink collar, you lousy man-bitc--"
-No, I don't think that my blog should become a rated-R-parental-advisory-sticker-wannabe just because of his sorry collar...
But I do hate him...At least I didn't go into hysterics, or anything slightly amusing like that...I handled myself respectfully and calmly, and only once did it cross my mind to hit him so hard that I'd never have to worry about him smiling again...Okay, maybe twice...Or three times...
But does it really matter?
Yes, yes it does. I wish it didn't...He's the single most annoying person I've ever had to deal with in my sixteen years of existance, and yet, I am forced by cultural and religious infamy, to respect him. To uphold him as one of the singularly most important people in my "walk with God" and otherwise faith-based life experiences.
My conscience says "Hell, no."
I agree with my conscience.

"IT HAS WHAT ARISTOTLE CALLED THE FOUR ESSENTIAL ELEMENTS OF DRAMA:"

(1) Despair
(2) Intrigue
(3) Canadians
(4) Snorkeling

Dear God:
Why, God? Why am I not funny? He's 58. That's too old to be funny. Make me funny instead.
Thanks!
-Kel
PS- Relocating to Miami for his job isn't a problem either. But you already knew that. Okay. Toodles!

WHY DOES THIS SOUND LIKE KELLEY, MINUS THE PATIO AND/OR POOL?

(I Have To Give Credit To Dave Barry For Possibly Writing This...I'm Still Not Convinced It's My Own...)

People always ask me: ''Is it hard to be a professional writer like you and Joyce Carol Oates?''

Yes. Very hard. Here is a true example of the kind of difficulties we face:

The other day I was in sitting at my desk in my home office, doing what I do all day, which is frown at my computer screen and wrestle with professional writing issues, such as: ''Do I have anything to say about this topic?'' And: ''What, exactly, is this topic?''

This is tiring work, so roughly 35,000 times a day I have to take a break to eat something or drink something or scratch something. At this particular moment, I reached to my left, to pick up my can of Diet Coke, and

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

That is the screaming sound my brain made when it realized that my hand was, at most, two inches from a live snake. Really. As a South Florida resident, I'm used to having ants on my desk, but they are friendly, harmless and easy to smush. Whereas this was a full-blown snake, coiled for attack, with its head reared up and its tongue flicking out toward me, which is how snakes communicate the message: ''Hah! Perhaps you wish to die for your Diet Coke, Mister No-Topic Writer Man!''

Any wildlife expert will tell you that, when confronted with a potentially dangerous animal, you must remain calm and not make any sudden movements. That's why I always say: ''The hell with wildlife experts.'' Propelled almost entirely by my bun muscles, I shot, missile-like, from my chair, landing on my feet, clutching my keyboard in a defensive pose. The snake had not moved. It was clearly thinking: ''My species is millions of years old. I do not fear your keyboard.''

So I ran into the kitchen and grabbed what I felt was the best anti-snake weapon I own: barbecue tongs. Brandishing them, I went back to the office and lunged at the snake. The good news was: I was able to grab it. The bad news was: I grabbed it in its midsection, and it was long enough (I am estimating 17 feet) that it could easily reach my hands with its mouth, and it was flailing around in a very irate manner. Fortunately, I was able to keep a cool head, as we see by the following verbatim transcript of my thought process:

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I dimly remember bursting out the patio door, with my outstretched arm gripping the tongs as far back on the handle as possible while the snake thrashed wildly. The instant I was outside I dropped the tongs, and the snake, now free to go anywhere in North America, proved that it was in fact the Evil Demon Serpent from Hell by slithering directly into the swimming pool. Head high, it began to briskly swim laps in a counterclockwise direction.

''Ha ha, Barbecue Boy!'' it was indicating. ''Perhaps you do not have a large enough pair of tongs to handle the likes of me!''

So I had no choice but to pick up the tongs again and chase the snake around the edge of the pool, in that schizophrenic way that you chase a critter when you are actually terrified of it. Like, if you see a crab or a squirrel in your path, you keep moving toward it, not because you are brave, but because you believe it will run away from you. But if it's one of those renegade crabs or squirrels that run in your direction, you -- admit it -- turn and flee, whimpering, because even though you're 200 times the critter's size, you're afraid that it will bite (or pinch) you, whereas you know in your heart that you will not bite (or pinch) it.

We just have to hope that more critters do not figure this out. That was the situation I found myself in, chasing the Demon Serpent around the pool. I'd get close enough to grab it with the tongs, and suddenly it would reverse direction and whoa I was fleeing from the snake. This went on for several minutes -- chasing the snake, fleeing from the snake, chasing the snake -- until finally the snake made the classic tactical error of going into the pool filter basket. Once again, I was able to get close enough to get the tongs on it and

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

This time, when I dropped the tongs, the snake went into the patio planter, where it disappeared. It's still out there somewhere, lurking, and now I'm a nervous wreck, wondering how it got into the house, and where it will show up next.

I'm also exhausted. You try sleeping with barbecue tongs.

IT'S 12:07. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR DISCONTENTED TEENAGER IS?

I don't know...
I don't even really feel like updating this thing...I mean, it's "fun", but I enjoy writing about nothingness so much more than divulging my own life...It's that whole, "You don't know me" stamina that keeps me going, keeps me in that angsty youth persona that works out pretty well, since no one wants to bother an angsty youth...
Ugg...
I think I need a catch phrase...Nothing corny, mind you, but something ironic and stupid enough to make stupid of all the ironies in my life...
I hate the fact that there are people who feel exactly the way I do...Not that I don't enjoy company, but something within me yearns for the glimmer of belief that houses the possibility that says, "Kel, you're unique! No one thinks exactly the same as you do, nor does anyone worship the things you do, sing the songs you sing, want to be the person you crave, or any other such random thing...Because you're you!"
It's like a Purple Dinosaur Syndrome...PDS...That makes sense...Anyway, it's this downplay of communal society that's led us to these non-realistic teaching tools of individuality and mono-unity...
It's like saying "Every Punk Is Special". It simply doesn't make sense.
Everyone's the same. Me too. It's not like a condition that we merely grow out of. Every non-conformist thinker is like every other one in existence. I'm the same as someone else. Not that I plague the world with Kelleys, but to say "You are special, individual, and/or unique" simply provides the basis for a non-existent false reality to settle in my feeble little mind, as are all other minds surrounding mine.
But don't forget--You're special.

MAYBE I SHOULD JOIN MENSA INSTEAD...

I had to drop my Honors Physics to a Big Bad Standard level so as to get all the classes I need for graduation and/or my own sanity...
What a world, what a world, what a cruel, cruel world...
We had a racoon eat all of our cat food last night...No, silly, not the cat food that I eat, the cat food for my three cats...Two cats and a dog...Something like that. But besides that, I think it's a true lesson in compassion and care for all our furry bretheren...I mean, as far as I'm concerned, I don't really feel the need to lock all our doors, scream "BLOODY MURDER!", and sing Kumbya-ya-ya-ya in a neatly piled circle of bodies...The rest of my family does, of course, but I choose to be exempt from that massive brain hemmorage of a collective...
Ooh. Descriptive...
I've been thinking recently about guys and how I relate in their coenciding existance...I don't really want a guy. I don't really need a guy. But I'm bored...Of course, I don't want an idiot, either...Which means that I need to buy a dolphin or a small yet to scale version of Steven Hawkings...But I think the dolphin would work out a little better...Who wants to argue with a guy so smart he could break down your genetic make-up, and find ten-millio-second ways to call you a llama or other repressive foreign creatures in no less than sixty languages...
I'm not even going to validate my response with some sort of justification.
I'm just going to sit here, letting you vainly twiddle your thumbs or other non-opposable fingers...
La, la, la...

WORK, THIS BLOG SAYS, WORK!

Saddly, my blog doesn't seem to respond to pressure well...I can't get the archive thingy to work, which isn't that much out of the ordinary...But what are you going to do...
I'm supposed to be seeing a movie with K-Max at 2 (Or something like that...), killing my immune system at 8, and changing my school schedule at 1...
Sounds like a fun day!

APPARENTLY, I SHOULD BE SWIMMING WITH THE FISHES, ACCORDING TO MY COUSIN VINNY...

Heh...I've always wanted to say that...
One of the "Spectacular Seven" from this weekend, Vinny, emailed me a little while ago, commenting on how lucky I was to "not be dead" after my eight o' clock flight out of Houston on Sunday night...Ironically enough, I thought so too...
I'm so misconstrewed with the whole thought of four months until I'll be able to put what I learned into action...I mean, it's all well and good to learn the dances and songs and contorted catch phrases, but isn't it all about the end result? The grande finale? The waterpark?
Okay, that made no sense...Or did it?
I don't know anymore...
At one point in my life, just a little over a year ago, I was told that I should start working on a stand-up comedy routine, because by the time I had reached my comedic peak, my family and surrounding peers will have given me enough material to last me well beyond the grave...
The only problem: I'm not funny.
Not that it's a general shock, but it's just something I've never really thought of. To be funny, you have to have timing. You have to be intellectual. You have to be cruel...
To be kind, in the right measure...Cruel to be kind, it's a very good sign...Cruel to be---
Well...Um...I think you get the point.
And it's not as if I don't want to be funny...God, I would give anything for a cool stage name and a relatively amusing nationwide slapstick tour, along with a few million dollars (For gas and tolls...), but I, for some reason, just don't see it happening...
Sigh.
Well, next week starts off my "Winter Park 'Muffy-and-Buffy' Leadership Training", and it all concludes Friday with a healthy round of...
JOB SHADOWING...Dun, dun, dun!
I'm actually kind of excited, seeing as my top three choices are as follows:
1- Theatrical Arts (OR, How To Sleep With Someone To Get A Job)
2- Newspaper Writing/Staffing (OR, How To Completely Blackmail Someone With Your Literary Abilities)
3- Non-Profit Organizations (I don't have a spiffy alternate name for this one...)
As far as I know, I should be getting my first choice, but then again, you never know how these things come into play...
Maybe I should have shadowed a comedian...

CUTER THAN A RABID PONY...

Go on! You know you want to...

FOR ALL THOSE TECHNOLOGICALLY INCLINED PIRATES...

Do we have a computer for you!

CHEESE, GLORIOUS CHEESE...

The hotel in Houston may not have smelled like cheese, but it did reek of feet...
Oh, by the way:
I'm not allowed to dye my hair for four months...In fact, I may have to go...
BLONDE...

CURSE MY INSOLENT THOUGHT!

Agg! I vowed not to talk about what I accomplished this weekend, yet I've found such ironic situations and thoughts, that I'm bursting at the seams to tell someone who will eventually know what I know as a result of sight...
NCYC, that is...
Ugg...No one in the world could possibly understand what that meant. Or means...Even I'm not sure...
All I know is that as much as I was mystified by Chris Spaz-a-razza's help, he was making stuff up...
Oh! You don't know about him either!
Allow me to explain:
I met a few fantasmically amazing people this weekend while we were in the lovely/dry/boring/nice city of Houston, Texas for the NCYC Animators program...
-Maureen Dowd (I think that's her last name...): Director of NCYC, quick typer, fast thinker, and woman-that-loves-her-chicken-fried-steak-and-chocolate-mousse...
-Chris Spaz-a-razza (I know that's not his last name...): Actor, singer, dancer, piano player, and most importantly, Phil from the production of Hercules that I saw on the Disney cruise ship three/four years ago (And sat through Unbreakable next to in the movie theatre onboard, never realizing that we would again meet, not to mention that he was Catholic...)
-John (I don't even know his last name...): Liturgical director, driver's-permit-stealer, all around funny man, and "a Sagitarius who likes long walks on the beach"...
Out of these three, I can't decide who the most insane was, but Chris was definately the loudest (As any of my six "Special Speaking Friends" can attest to as we listened to him bellow through the walls...). Of course, there were quite a few more people that made up the four days, but those were the three I, personally, saw the most of...
I think I'll try and write a bit more a little later on, as in after my computer stops making funky noises and beeps that sound like "Kill Me Now, Kelley!"...
*Beep...*