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...*

HE'S DEAD, BUT OH, SO COOL

Forgot to mention that I met a Jack Lemmon look-alike riding the monorail at Disney last weekend...His name was Stanley, and he let me ride in the front of the train...And that, my friends, was uber cool, seeing as he was a dead-on (Ouch!) Lemmon with brown hair...And gorgeous...But that's not the point...He was very nice...
Cool, and Lemmon-y Fresh!

SHE'S HERE, AND NOW, SHE'S GONE...

Off I go, into the wild blue yonder...And yes, I penned that phrase, not some old song thingy...
Me.
All me...
I just have to figure out how to sneak my phone out before my family realizes it's not there...Heh...Odd, if you consider how much I dislike it...
Maybe it's like Fr. Jer--Derk, that is...You hate it to an insane degree, yet it keeps you connected to your livlihood...
Sucks to be Kelley or in a Kelley-like state...
I need to go eat a Chik-Fil-A biscut before I leave...Yummy, and oddly un-nutritious!
But I will be thinking of everything and nothing in the next week...It may very well be the last time I speak through this blog, seeing as the very likely possibility that I join a bear-loving-woodsey-cult is fast approaching...Or I could be bitten to death by worms and/or fun-loving-carnivorous bugs...The choices are endless!
In fact, I think I should create some sort of submission page to see which would be the most interesting way for Kelley to perish in the next week...You've got two locations to choose from (Dayspring and a hotel in Houston, both of which probably smell like cheese...), and a variety of incidents to imagine!
Have fun! And let me know how I'm supposed to go before I do so...

PERHAPS NOT THE BRIGHTEST WAY TO SPEND THE MOMENTS UP UNTIL YOUR TWO WEEKS OF CATHOLIC HELL...

But who can possibly pull themselves away from a coma-driven cutie like Peter Gallagher in While You Were Sleeping...He's so gorgeous when he's dumb...And the guy who ends up winning the girl in the end is rather adorable, as well...
Ahh...One something in the morning, and instead of writing an essay that was due a week ago, I'm blabbing on about some teenage-angst-ish movie that considering the heavy emphasis on love, has absolutely nothing to do with my rather non-forlorn life...
I'm just anxious, I suppose...I mean, I have the leadership retreat starting on...Tomorrow...And then, Thursday, I fly out to Houston for the NCYC thingy...
It's scary...
My summer is almost complete, and I've yet to:
A: Be kissed.
B: Learn to surf.
C: Write my Plyler essay.
D: Hang out with Elise...Or Dexter...Or Elise...
E: Figure out why Nathan would want to move on to syndication...I mean, "Charlie Lawrence"? P-ul-eeze...
F: Sell sodas at SAK.
-And most importantly...
G: Adequately stalk Rene' Ruiz.
Alright...I think someone may have realized that I'm indeed on the computer early on a Sunday morning, in which case I will now duck to avoid the nifty little lazer light that's aiming for my skull...
Ta-ta!

WHY IS IT THAT THE ANSWERS "A BOYFRIEND", "A LOVER", "A GAY MAN", AND "NATHAN LANE" CAME IN THAT SPECIFIC ORDER?

Are super-computers trying to convince me of something?
I'll never know...But you should check it out anyway...

AND THE GODS SAID, "YES, KELLEY. GOOD THINKING."

I love the fact that my friends can't STAND a certain girl by the name of Amanda...Not that I enjoy their constant bashing, but it at least gives me something to smile about...They're all writing her letters, in response to her letter, stating that they were all blatant "racists" and "losers", and that my friend Derek was (I never saw the letter itself, so I'm just making up more stuff to let it sound good...Plagerism rocks...) "an astoundingly charming species of baboon who would probably not know where to fling the poop that was coming out of his mouth on a constant basis..."
Or something like that...
(Isn't making up stuff much more fun than sticking to the guidelines of truth? Kelley thinks so...)

SHE NEVER VOWED TO DO IT AGAIN, AND YET, IT CONTINUES...

I don't know...I was thinking about Gene and Brad today, and I hate doing that...It makes me feel week, and yet, inextricably connected to something...
Agg...
I don't know about that either...The thought makes me shudder now, whereas a year ago, I couldn't stand days disconnected from his thought...
And now, I don't want to go anywhere near his thought...
Who gives a flying crap about thought anyway?

SCARY, THIS NEW BLOG IS...

Okay, just because no one knows what I find to be scary, don't laugh...
They re-vamped the Blogger stuff, so it's slightly confusing, not to mention really cool looking...
Oh well...
I'm at the office helping with the packing, etc...Their last day at the office...
Almost a tear-jerking moment...
But not really...

KELLEY'S SECOND STEP IN BECOMING A COMPLETE LOSER...

I'm gonna join a fan club!
Woo-hoo!
(And that would make me TheBlackMarauder...)

CLAY IS COOL...(NOT THE STUPID "IDOL", DUMB PEOPLE...)

But then again, I've always loved Wallace and Gromitt...

AND OFF SHE GOES TO CRY OVER A FICTIONAL CHARACTER...

Shut up, stupid journal...
He meant so much to me...
Damn that woman for doing this to my mental state of being!

DON'T WORRY- THEY CAN SHARE...

I'm-



And-



And-



The HP Male Marriage Quiz made by Sapphire.

WHY KELLEY SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO READ...

I spent over an hour last night, reading, re-reading, and crying over the last three chapters of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, therefore allowing me to regin supreme in my quest for the title of Universe's Biggest Loser...
Of course, by me crying and feeling more torn up than should be humanly allowed, I'm most certainly not implying that my favorite character in the series was viciously murdered...Of course not...That would be silly...
I'm so sad.
And now, I'm waiting for one of my moronically-slow-reading friends (Although I'm not implying that any of them are moronic or slow reading, just that I am the worlds biggest pain in the extremities now that my life is over as a result of the death of a fictional character...) to finish the novel so that I can adequately cry on someone's shoulder...
I want to die...
"And then I can be with..."

JUST A TIDBIT OF FACT...

2051...
Kiss my dust, Barry...

PROOF THAT KELLEY HAS A LIFE BESIDES STALKING THE DISGUSTINGLY GORGEOUS ANTONIO BANDERAS...

(Okay, so maybe it doesn't prove that I have a life, but at least it proves that I'm not stalking him 24-7!)

What do you do when you can't remember the words to the theme song for "Full House"?
Send out a horrible, mentally destructive email, of course!
I hope the world is chipper and bright, seeing as my words have had a lack of existence for the last few months...Not that they haven't been there, cynical, obsolete, and pushy as ever, but slightly hidden from the world's...I mean, my email list's view...
You missed me...Didn't you?!
Well, I didn't miss any of you, obviously, which is why I'm taking the minute-and-a-half it requires to forward a bit of cynical banter into your overly-populated inboxes and "you've-got-mail" thingies...
And yes, "thingies" is how I will refer to AOL, simply because I don't have it, and because idiots like Madonna probably do...Of course, that's all speculation, but let's just roll with Kelley's invalid ploys...
Okay? Yep, works for me, too...
Actually, I really did miss {talking/emailing/making fun of behind their backs/making fun of in front of their faces/just generally being a jerk} to everyone in the world, but especially the people I have email addresses for (Feel free to use whichever one or two instances display our personal relationship most accurately...And if they both have to do with you being made fun of by a certain ME, I implore you to continue reading this letter sometime after you reach the mature age of 39...But hey, do what you
like!)...I genuinely hope that your lives have become just slightly more enriched since I've been out of them, and that sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows follow you aimlessly across fields of brightly lit astroturf...Either that, or you're happy...Both work for me, and although number one is my DEFINITE favorite, the second works pretty well for the rest of the populace...
God, I missed doing this...
But you must all be rather bored at this point...So bored, in fact, you can feel your eyelids drooping slightly, and a strange, Yiddish-speaking man telling you to "get off your lazy butt and respond to the girl's darn email!" And hey, who am I to argue with the Yiddish-speaking man?
Save yourself! Respond, my children!
Or don't. That's cool, too...
Have a good evening, and may all your news be good news...And not Chevy Chase news...
Ugg...
-me

JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THAT LIFE COULDN'T GET BETTER...

Fr. Derk is on vacation until mid-July...I would scream and jump for joy, but I'm so gosh darn sore! Anyway, I'm trying to save and conserve my energy so that I can kill random people (Or helicopter pilots...) online...
Sounds like fun!

WHO WANTS TO BE A BORED PERSON?!

I do!

BY THE WAY...

It's Friday, and I still have yet to see how the flaming corn dog reference will ever be relevent in my own life...I mean, ten points for wasting my time, but seriously--
Wow...I've never seen processed meat do that before...

WHO WANTS TO KILL THAT DAMN BIRD NOW?

Actor Gregory Peck dies at the age of 87...He will be missed...

I'M LAZY, AND I DON'T CARE, SO HERE'S LAST NIGHT'S ENTRY...

Why do I have random bluegrass/cajun Gene-ish songs popping into my head?
Only Josh Dodes would know the answer to that one...
Hmm...I'm really enjoying this whole "summer PE" thing...I'm feeling all sore and worked out, and I can't whine about feeling weak and pathetic now that I...Well...Don't.
I want to buy a ferret, suddenly. But that thought makes me angry...I'm staring at my Sirius, talking about buying a ferret, and you can just see the realization in his tiny little hamster eyes that he's being compared to another (Although temporarily imaginary) rodent...
Enough of that...I'll stay loyal until he curls over and goes to that little wheel in the sky...
Jeez...Why did I bother piercing my ear again? It seems relatively pointless in the giant, nonexistent scheme of things, and I wasted $20 completing my master-waste-of-scheme-planning-time...
I want to go see a movie...Not that I actually want to pay the movie industry seven dollars to waste three hours of my life on some crap like the "must-see movie of the summer", From Justin To "I Suck And So I Have To Steal A Good Name Like" Kelly...
But I'm not bitter...
Hurray for that happy, uplifting, positive conversation about my nonexistent personal life!
(Editor's Note: Conversation retracted because she "doesn't give a crap anyway...")
I was really angry last night about Derk and Kevin and James Barbour (For being so goddamn sexy...) and whoever else I wanted to be mad at, but I'm just kind of in this odd state of lightheadedness combined with aching, mental fatigue, and a craving for Philly Cheesesteak Hot Pockets...(Which I have in the freezer, but remain currently useless due to our lack of working microwave...)
But I'm not hungry...In fact, I think I'd be spewing steak all over the house if I tried eating...It's just this feeling of inconsistency...I miss my parents (Sort of...Not really, now that I get down to thinking about it...), I want to talk to someone, I'm feeling very "body conscious", and I want a bit of intimacy...Not totally on a physical level, but in a way, that's exactly what I want...I mean, I don't want to go have sex with someone. And I don't really want to "make out" (Especially with the descriptions that Paul just gave me of the "wrong ways" to do so...Why people want to stick tongues down each others throats, I will never know...). I just want to be held. Or kissed. Just to be somewhere and not feel worried about all the other {DERK} crap in my life, and not to really have to do anything for anyone else...
I need a Rochester moment...
I think I'm going to go relax, stretch out...Something...
I just need to stop thinking.

A GENUINE SIGN OF THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST...

By way of the must-see film of the summer...

THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER IS: HE'S WHITE...

Yoyo I be havin some tight shiznit ta talk 'bout with chu'. Ok so be gettin dis shiznit I was all like yo what up to Laquanda yesa'day an' she be all up in ma grill 'bout me bein her baby's daddy or some shiznit like dat an' I was all like awwww hell naw gurl you bes' be up out ma face 'fore I bus' a cap in yo stank ass, you nasy ol' biznite!! Yeah I say you a biznite wha' chu goin' do, huh?? Oh but den' she be like aight aight my bad dat be my bad, yo Missa Downavan. So I be like aight yo it be koo', it koo'. So yeah dat was what be happenin yesa'day. Den' taday Shanana be like yo Missa Downavan why you ain't be talkin be no mo', yo punk ass too good fo' me now??An' I jus' say ta Shanana UP OUT MA FACE,UP OUT MY FACE!! Anyway I 'bout ta blow a ho' up in 'dis hizzy fo' rizzel~
Hey biznite, by the way I think I be your baby's daddy!!! My bad, oh oh dat my bad.
~Missa Downavan
(Aww...I love my little Derek...)

I think I'm on the verge of mental disexistance...Seriously, I wanted to shoot myself in the head, and take two other people out at the same time...
Not the best train of thought to experience while you're preparing meals at your CATHOLIC CHURCH to take to a HOMELESS COALITION...
You know? There should be the happy bunnies running through dimly lit patches of grass, not rounds of lead being pumped into my future youth minister and current associate pastor...
Oh, crap. Did I say that out loud?
Honestly, though...All Kevin could say to me tonight was, "Kel, you know you saved my life tonight, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
It obviously wasn't the happy bunny-est of any of the conversations we've had...In fact, I think he realizes how upset I was...Let's put it into perspective:
I thought that I was coming to help out tonight.
I was told that everything was set up, that Kevin knew what he was doing, and that I would have an easy ride.
"Not so," said the chorus of ferrets floating above my vision as I burned my arm on a searing tray of hot dogs...
And yet, everything turned out as it should have...No one was viciously murdered, I saw Charlene (My favorite transvestite besides Eddie Izzard...), and we really DID make a difference in people's lives...But it was a neat, four hours of hell for me, and Kevin "laying on the bacon fat" just angered me to an even greater degree than when the descant ferret attempted his solo...
Egad...Enough with the ferret talk...I'm not feeling well...
I need a hand massage...
And a ferret...

I am a giant mutant kitten. Not strange at all.


Which cute or possibly strange kitten are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Well...That was odd...

It's time for the Queen Of Random to rest...
Or pretend to, at least...
But first, to find the Queen's Softball Glove Of Death...
Ahh...

(I just think this deserves to be posted for the sheer fact that Nathan Lane's name is included on it...)
fearlessgurl3: babe...i really don't know...i mean, i probably do know, deep down, but love seems so non-existant to me right now, and i
fearlessgurl3: *i'm so tired and angry and distraught, and nathan lane is gay...it's not my emotional peak, by any means...
fearlessgurl3: god, i am the queen of random sometimes...

THREE SCENARIOS FOR HOW MY LIFE WILL MOST SURELY END AT THE HANDS OF FR. DERK...
(As depicted in "Kelley Rant Format" through the use of an online instant communication program and Melly...)

Scenario 1: He'll put the blame on me. He'll go defensive- retaliate. So, when I ask for recomendations this summer, or just go to our pastor for anything, Fr. Walsh is going to say, "Well, had a little chat with Derk, and maybe you need to 'mature' a little before I can give you my trust..." He'll abominate my name among the parish, and I'll have no choice but to leave...
Scenario 2: He'll uphold our agreement for about a month, and then go back to the teasing, the tormenting, and so on, bringing me back to the drawing board...
Scenario 3: He actually listens to me, realizing that I'm not just some dumbass teenager that he can tease to no extent, realizing that I have mental capabilities beyond his, and an emotional range just as dependant on that intellect. He'll start taking me for who I am, we'll continue a bit of the teasing, but nowhere close to the degree it had come to, and I'll remain a fervent part of my church...
The fat irony- I'm so beyond caring...
All Souls and I are already picking out curtains. THAT'S how beyond caring I am...
Curtains with tulips...Orange tulips...

I just found Brian (The tall, Star Trek oriented giant who used to be my best friend, lives in my hometown, just graduated from high school, and now works as a Photo Processor...) and his magnificent blog, so now, I have something to do with the other 26 hours in my day...

SHOULD I?

I'm thinking of doing the big DB thing and copying how I post my entries...You know, the bold title, the little catch phrase diction...
Or, even jumping to third-person "This Blog" style...
Hmm...

A SIGN THAT PERHAPS, HORROSCOPES ARE BEGINNING TO BECOME RELEVANT ONCE AGAIN...

From Thursday forward, your name will be mentioned every time flaming corn dogs rain down from the sky.

I'm a little tired myself...I think I'll spend my free time wallowing away in Internet Games that I don't understand, and maybe even a little nap...
A big nap could work, too...

I have a certain fixation for restoring the needy and outstrung to a level of security and comfort.
I might need some help with this one...

-Anthony is hinting that he has at least a background role in the next Spider-man film...Which could prove interesting, since he's claiming to be "running down Madison Avenue from a terrible villian called Dr. Octupus lately..." and "simultaniously dragging a girl across the street, running with terror, standing on a third story balcony, jumping over the hood of a car, and driving through the scene..."
That's what I call "Artisic Integrity".

No one seems to have any recollection of Amour's disappearance from last night's awards ceremony, but I won't be so easily swayed by those media vultures...
I will find a way to avenge Malcom's deadly gorgeousness...

Ooh! Amour didn't perform last night! What's up with that, my theatre G's?
I'm going to go check The New York Times to see if this travesty can be explained...
(After all, Malcom Gets is absolutely gorgeous...)

Easily, the greatest Tony acceptance speech EVER:
"Boy, am I glad this was not a beauty contest...I told you, Antonio, if you're going to come to America, you have to dress like an American- In a dress!...I adore each and every one of you, I want to have your children, and I promise to raise them well!"
-Harvey Fierstein, after recieving the 57th Annual Tony Award for Best Actor for his role as the mother, Edna Turnblad, in Hairspray...
It's stuff like that that makes me proud to be a Geek.
I mean, "Theatre Enthusiast".

Meeting adjourned...Good stuff happened, bad stuff conquered, etc...
Chris, stop shaking my chair, you God-awful, horrible human being...

Oh my Lord...How disgruntled was that maniac? Never again will I lease my computer to someone with an ego comparable to that of Ayn Rand...(Author of Anthem, for all you nitwitted losers who weren't forced to spend a semmester with Bobbie Butch...)
Actually, Chris' imaginary belief in my love for him is rather cute...
Eww...
Did I just use the word, "Cute"?

tee hee, you know what it is like when you just get in one of those moods, where you feel, well...... CRAZY! You can't help yourself and you just go wild... well..... I have declare my LOVE for justin timberlake!!!!! I CANNOT HOLD THE TRUTH ANY LONGER!!!!!!!!!!


Yes...... I must also finally admit I do actually love christoper: my dearest brother

Ooh, I forgot to mention that I picked up a copy of Thomas Merton's No Man Is An Island...
(I figured it would make for some light reading...You know, deep early-church theological teachings for a nice, relaxing summer vacation...Either that, or I'm trying to impress people...)
*Editor's Note: Ironically, she's not sure which...

Hmm...I'm still feeling Matrix-y from last night...Good Lord, it was an awesome movie...
And what to say about the myriads of Agent Smiths?
Kelley like Agent Smith...
Enough of that. I'm heading down to Lakeland this morning with Mary so that we can do some "planning" for the retreat we're helping with in July...Personally, I'm excited...Really excited, in fact...I think I'll have an amazing time, and I think I'm learning to find that this kind of work, this planning, working, coordinating, leading stuff is really what I love doing the most...
I like being bossy...What can I say?
But, in complete and therefore total seriousness, I really do love it...Luckily for me, I get double doses...I'm helping with the thing this morning, and then, I'm going to help Kevin with the meeting tonight...For anyone else, it might seem like Youth Ministry Overload, but this is what I've grown up doing. This is what I love to do...It's fun!
(Okay, maybe not total, utter, jubulent fun, but fun all the same...Well, not all the same...That's not my point...)
Oh well...

The stupid Barnes and Noble site has decided that it's more fun to make Kelley wait for hours on end for one page to end...Stupid $7.16 worth of Barnes and Noble money I have to spend...
What in the world costs only $7.16?
I don't know...
*Tomorrow night is our Pre-Pre-Planning Meeting...So, HOPEFULLY, we'll actually be able to get something done...*
Heh...

Alright...I'm going to devulge my self in a double marathon of Kevin Kline-ness...
Gorgeous...
AHH! Rene' is online!
To speak, or not to speak, that is the question...
I don't have to courage to do so, I know that...But his oh-so-sexy-bass-ness makes me feel as if I have to...
Ehh...Too stalker...Even for Kelley...
Hello, Kevin...

I hate it when things screw up...Nothing seems to be working correctly this morning...Not fun...
I just wish I was computer literate...
Because then, I could do dramatic things to my words, making them all slanty, and bold!
But alas...

I've got a meeting scheduled with Kevin (and hopefully Lori...) on Friday...
I guess I am going to be the Part-time Youth Minister...
Alright.

"This is the photo section, where we have the photos. There will be more photos later, but we haven't put those photos up yet, so these are the photos we have now, prior to us having more photos, which, as I said, we will have later. Photos."
-Thank you for the explanation, Mr. Carlin...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. JEROME PRADON...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!
Yea! My Foreign Theatre God is 32!
It's a good day all around...Tee hee!

I think the internet holds a wonderful capacity for new ideas, innovations within existing fields, and advancements in every scope imaginable...
Now, even dorks have their own voice...
Cowbells, unite!

I'm going to bed...
Memo to self: Email Anthony this week...
Heh...Like I'll remember that...

I'm genuinely crammed with things that I'd like to say about the happy, non-sarcastic things playing currently on the two IMAX screens within my mind...
But I can't...
My last genuinely logical thought took place when I finished our presentation last night (DerkJerk in tow...), and broke into tears over the amount of disrespect and hatred that he must shelter for me, seeing as though the only words that leave his lips in regards to myself are insults and jeers...
I couldn't hold up. I burst open, raw and completely, irreverently "not Kelley", and it didn't phase him...
The second logical thought was when Celeste revelated a homily he'd given about "killing the messenger" (In regards to himself being God's messenger)...
On a slightly happier note (Although, thoughts of that man being wiped out, although sacreligious to an insane degree, make me pretty happy...), I own stock in the Lincon Logs corporation...
(At least, Paul thinks so...)

"It's Pirates Of The Ca-rib-ee-an, you God-forsaken morons!"

Life is relatively ironic when you realize that the only place you can go to adequately mourn and pay tribute to the late, great Phil Hartman, is the "much needed introduction" to the Magic Kingdom's Enchanted Tiki (Tiki-tiki-tiki-tiki...) Room...
As Morris the Bird...
Irony sucks.

What an amazing weekend...I have such a myriad of wealthy knowledge that I'm excited to be involved in and to be working on...
I'm ready to be the Preist, Prophet, and King that I've been called to be...
We're starting the Leadership team up again (Whether Derk is going to be a pompus ass about it or not...), and I've become so ready to put out ideas and all sorts of different ways we can implement this new wisdom...
Kevin spent the whole weekend as if he was trying to get me interested in a full time position...It was a really odd feeling, and I'm still not sure where I stand on my "difficult decision"...
(I am staying, as well as helping with All Souls, however...)
(As if I had a choice...)
I'll write a little more later on...We have to go home for the first time in three days...