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.