THE FOLLOWING BLOG ENTRY ALSO EXISTS ON ANOTHER JOURNALING WEBSITE. IF YOU HAVE ANY RETORTS TO THIS BLATANT SELF-PLAGIARISM, EMAIL ME AT seeifigiveacrap@barrynet.com.

[Editor's Note: Click on the link. I dare you.]
So, perhaps I could find a little more time over the next few weeks to blab all over my poor, lonely blog until it's covered in spittle and is utterly boiling over with rantified Kelley-in-a-bottle.
Ugh. Imagery.
What to say...Well, it's Wednesday, which implies that tomorrow should be Thursday, which guarantees that Spring Break will begin as soon as Wolfy proposes to Elise and breaks the heart of her softball-playing-parrot-toting-lover, Ms. Kimball.
That seems to make sense.
What will the break hold? I'm not so sure.
Any suggestions?

HOW DO YOU EXPRESS ABSOLUTE, UTTER, PAINFUL EXHAUSTION IN ONE SENTENCE; ONE MEAGER SENTENCE CANNOT POSSIBLY EXPOUND UPON THE UTMOST MENTAL FATIGUE, THE EPITOME OF INTERNAL STRIFE: LOSS, ACHING, PULLING, AGONIZING, STRENUOUS, DILAPIDATED, UNASSISTED THOUGHT.

I guess that's how.

"EWW. PLEASE TELL ME THEY'RE NOT FLIRTING ON BLACKBOARD."

So, the Political Board has exploded in what is claiming to be "virtuous debate."
I hang my head in shame at those rabble rousers...
Saturday was the night at Sak to end all evenings. Byron kidnapped my oblique frame, and we romped on a magical bus to view the late show for absolutely no cost!
I don't know if I can go into significant detail in my typing...It's something that can only fully express itself in spoken Kelley dialect, and I certainly don't have the energy to translate via keyboard.
Not when I have multiple choice questions to complete.

MMM...CRABS.

I don't see what's so wrong with Stalin's Crab Army.
As long as they bring butter.

NO ONE MOURNS THE WICKED.

Which is probably why no one has bothered to call me this afternoon.
Heh. I'll deal.
Actually, the week has finally subsided, with nothing but our State meeting this evening, followed by a lesson in self-preservation I'd like to call Keeping Kelley Awake During The Drama IV Show. It's a working title, but we're proud of it.
Crash, go the cymbals.
So, Elis is off in La La Land [Editor's Note: The land was decisively named by the King himself, La La La Voom, III.] with new beau, Matt; K-Max has asked Jen-Gerh to the Prom [Editor's Note: Giggle.]; CMoore cannot stop complaining about his love life [Editor's Note: Which currently involves both Anthony and Casey, his "biznits."].
Kelley is single, and all is well.
Haha! Haha!
I feel like dancing to "Eye Of The Tiger" in utter victory fashion.

"I JUST THOUGHT I'D LET YOU KNOW," SAYS VERTICAL HORIZON.

We have taken the liberty of adopting another fallen squirrel. He was surrogately named "Peanut," but something within me screams for change in that process. Something more legitimate, perhaps.
I'm pulling for "Paul."
[Editor's Note: As in "Plyler," not "Stalker."]

IT'S BEEN A HARD DAY'S NIGHT.

I've been popping pills like a pathetic poodle. Which is alliteration, if you care to know.
I am in Physics. I am obviously doing a great deal of work.
In total reality, I'm addicting fellow classmates to MySpace. Soon, the world will be dominated by a race unaccustomed to legitimate internet research, but only mindless drooling on websites devoted to "upping your friend count."
The true dream of millions.

HAS PAPAPHOBIA GOT YOU DOWN?

That would be fear of the Pope/Papacy, as I have just found out in the midst of my early-morning research...Some of my top picks at this point are:
Dying or death- Thanatophobia.
Englishness- Anglophobia.
Children- Pedophobia.
Criticized severely, or beaten by rod or instrument of punishment- Rhabdophobia.
Flogging or punishment- Mastigophobia.
Ideas- Ideophobia.
Leprosy- Leprophobia or Lepraphobia.
There are more to come, I assure you...

I'M DOING WHAT I WANT TO, EVEN IF I'M NOT TO.

Like a ch-ch-chi--chicken.
Hooray for Comprehensive Theatre. Or not.
I spent Valentine's Day at home and watching TV, which is quite some movement from last year's "I-Think-I'm-On-A-Date-But-I'm-Not-Sure-And-Wait-We're-Going-To-SCC..."
Very romantic, I assure you.
I'm thinking that perhaps I'm called to live alone, cryptically cynical, and nonetheless intelligent...But alone, so that I can let my grueling imagination fester; so that this paralysis I call "the inept" can simply leave me alone. It would be much less time consuming and wholly beneficial to my mental state of being, so much deteriorated already.
I like the bitterness. I’m not willing to compromise it by becoming “mushy.”

GET OUT OF MY SPACE BEFORE I SHOOT YOU...

I'm not sure what it is about that site that possesses myself and millions others to spend long, empty hours staring at our own profiles, and the nonsensical profiles of others...
But if Eddie is doing it, there can't be that much harm involved.
I long for Orlando again, as I sit, reclined in my grandmother's computer chair (Aptly named "cushionless" by the people who truly count: Me.), inept at thought and the process of expelling said thought.
I need to go "journal."
If I remember what a pen feels like.

WHO NEEDS THE QUICK-E-MART? NOT ME!

I'm just making up things at this point.
I decided to ditch the Identifications and try to finsh them up over the weekend...And that really doesn't bother me right now...What I need to get cracking on is my AP Language stuff...
Look at what P-Dawg posted:
Kell"e"y - How does Seven of Nine fit into the scheme of things? I was a huge "Voyager" fan. Mr. Plyler
[Editor's Note: And after seeing that, I am both mortified and smitten...And slightly scared.]
Chaz and I are set to work the Football Awards tonight at 5:30, which should be only minor work, and I plan to spend the entire evening just hanging out with him and working on Drama III "directorial notes," as Custodio would like to say...

SO, THAT WAS FUN.

Auditions during Drama III...Amusing. Perplexing.
What other adjectives have I to utilize?
Oh, that's right. BORING.
I enjoyed making an absolute fool out of myself [Editor's Note: And after losing Grandma to HARMONY, I don't know how much more of a fool I can become...], finding myself cast in at least one interesting role (The mother from The Effects Of Gamma Rays On Man On The Moon Marigolds), and I definitely had fun ignoring directors' instructions and just being there.
Here's what I've deliberately decided upon:
It's not worth my anger.
It's not worth my frustration.
It's not worth re-living over and over again to figure out what she did right and I did wrong.
Totally not worth it.
I am so, so looking forward to Valentine's Day.
Yeah.

LA, LA, LA-AAA, LA. I AM POPULAR.

Or not. I'm actually hooked on some of the songs in Wicked. Which is thoroughly distracting considering I'm trying to function as a normal human being without breaking into song every few seconds...
Ehh.

RHETORICALLY CHALLENGED AM I.

That's how I feel tonight- allusionless and hardly willing to fight the deviating fronds of syntax...
Not that I really have to. After all, it is Saturday; 'tis Slackerday for all.
Tweed. Everytime I start to write something interesting, it's too late to do so.
'Tis night.

YOU'RE REALLY GROWING ON ME...

It's good that it's Friday...Saturday. Whatever.
For lack of good manners, I would have "up and pulled an Ashley" if the week had detained me viciously any longer. Now, I have time to think, sleep, and expand upon *crazy* notions of normalcy. Heh. Even joking about it makes me giggly.
Giggle.

NOTICE ANYTHING ODD?

Hmm...What's Gene's last name on the business card?
I thought so.

MY NEW CATCH PHRASE: WARDROBE MISFUNCTION.

I don't know...There's something about seeing this that really calls me to value the productive effort of a tiny little network called MTV.

OH, MY IRREPARABLY DAMAGED MENTAL FRAME!

I'm a bit woozy.
Which is a fun word.
Not my point.
Anyway, I'm trying to get past this whole "Super Bowl Sunday Thing" without much damage and/or brutality, but depending on the circumstances, I'm game for a little bloodshed.
It's been a long weekend.
Last night was amusing and girly, as it was Nickie's birthday party. I hung out with Rob the Terrible, some nerdy guy at the concession stand who I wished I could continue flirting with, and Eeek-King himself, Mike.
SAK is where it's at.
I really need to drop off of this internet connection, lest someone should die and need to call me to give word of said death...
Woozy.

GARY SOTO IS COOL. ALMOST AS COOL AS BLACKBOARD.

Okay. So, maybe that statement is entirely sarcastic and demeaning to all parties involved...
I certainly hope so.
I've ceased revision after revision, annotation, and seek a nice, relaxing Friday.

I WIN, I WIN, I WIN.

Who rocks the house? Kelley rocks the house.

HAVE I STOPPED TO SAY HOW MUCH I HATE YOU LATELY?

That was actually intended to be humorous...You just have to imagine the sappy love music in the background...Which seems to be following me everywhere this week.
I long for some sleep.
But beyond that, I'm not the most competent human being, which helps, I suppose.
I haven't emailed Anthony back.
I haven't emailed Adam back.
I feel awful about that. About leaving them email-less and possibly friendless and definately more depressed as a result of less Kelley in their lives...
Who am I kidding?
I need them a whole lot more than they could ever need me...
Hmm. Not the happiest of thoughts.

"YOU HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO GET THIS BLOOD OFF THE FLOOR BEFORE I DISQUALIFY YOU, TROUPE 1983!"

Districts was eventful, to say the least.
I made out with Superior Tech for Baby With The Bathwater, Superior Ensemble Acting for I Hate Hamlet, Excellent Playwriting for Plainclothes Leo, and All Star Tech, again for Baby.
I rocked the house.
Okay, maybe not so much...But I am excited to see the judication forms and determine whether I was in any way a support for those Superiors, or if I was simply annoying enough that the District judges felt obliged to put the State judges through the same meticulous pain...
I have quite a bit of work to do, least of which is absorbing myself completely in all AP Language persuits, which means that I can't slack off else I am murdered by the Almighty Himself, P-Dawg.
By the by, there was a Plyler judge this weekend. He had quite some sense of style, I must say...
And Kennith. Oh, dearest Kennith.

BREATHING, I AM, BUT TO NO SUREFIRE AVAIL...

I don't think a word in that sentance even makes sense. I don't think anyone cares, either. So, I guess it works out.
I don't think I'm ready for Districts, or even classes today and rhersal after school...I have so little information, so little motivation, it makes me giggly...
Ugh. I have to get ready to sleep in Physics...
Nighty night, Blog.

WE ARE THE GEPHARDTS! MIGHTY MIGHTY GEPHARDTS!

We could be the GERHARDTS too, I suppose...But let's be honest with ourselves...
Give Dick a Chance.
Preview was actually a nice event this evening, and all went rather smoothly, with the exception of my conscience derailing me from viciously murdering The Man Whore and He Who Does Not Speak English on lights and sounds, respectively. Luckily, I will still be at fault in the eyes of The Troll.
And the world is at peace.
[Editor's Note: I'm actually proud of our ensemble piece...It went very smoothly considering the week of non-rehearsal, and apparently it was one of the funnier pieces...Uh, huh.]
I'm beginning to question my insecurities in Lang...Perhaps I'm reading far too much into life in general (Which just so happens to be my underlying theme for this week: "So, You Think Your Life Is All BS. Well, Guess What...You're Correct!" Catchy, huh?), which means that I can just calm down, roll with the non-existent punches, and use my cunning and good looks to coast through life upon.
Heh.
My conversation with the P-Dawg this morning followed somewhere along the Dressed To Kill "Cake or Death" scene.
"Lit or Death? Lit or Death?"
"Oh, I'll take Death...I mean, Lit!"
"No, you said Death first!"
"But I meant Lit. Really!"
"Oh, alright. Lit it is...We're gonna run out pretty soon. Didn't realize there'd be such a rush for Lit, did we?"
Ahh...Good old Eddie.

THIS, SIR, MAKES ME FEEL SECURE ABOUT MY EDUCATIONAL FUTURE.

Grr.
It's been a nice week. Non-productive, but inspiring, I suppose...
Accomplished.

MARRIED GERMANS, BILLY RAY CYRUS, AND GARY SINESE. TRUE MEN OF THE CENTURY.

Could the evening have been any more spectacular? I don't think so.
"Married German" was the person lumped into our buffet table at Fake Germany in Epcot. He was scared to death having to sit next to us, worried that it was irrational and against our normal customs, forcing us to eat him in retaliation. Instead, I taught him how to say "variety."
I think his name was Rolf, but I'll never be sure.
Unless he's a terrorist.
Onto Gary Sinese: We decided to finally give into the hype and take a trip onto Mission to Mars. It's was G-Force worthy, indeed, and contained the only man worthy of the title "astronaut."
Obviously, that man is Gary.
And then, Mr. Billy Ray Cyrus, the King of Country. We ended up walking around Epcot somewhere near ten o'clock this evening, and sure enough, Billy Ray Cyrus is singing about his relentlessly achy-breaky-heart. He never stops singing about it, as a matter of fact.
Actually, it was something more demeaning. The Colgate Country Awards or something pathetically corny like that...Anyway, there was Billy, hosting and singing and probably spending way too much time trying to convince the audience that mullets really were cool back in "his day and age."
Pouvre Billy.
I think it's about time for this little Bloggerette to sign herself off and dream of her new heroes...
Hmm. Gary.

WHA'S HAPPENIN'?

BLOGGER - News Archive
I have absolutely no idea what this is for, but I'm just going to Roll With It.
[Editor's Note: I was testing the Blog This! feature, and apparently, I've figured out how to make it work...Neeto.]

THERE IS NO WAY THIS IS HUMOROUS. IN FACT, IT'S DEMEANING AND RUDE TO ALL PERSONS INVOLVED.
Which is why I've decided I love it.

LOOKING FOR WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION?

So is the US, dummy.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY. P-DAWG DEAR, P-DAWG DEAR. HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Yes. It is to the tune of Frere Jaques. Cry me a river, and read the play.
I still have to make a card, and it will be crappy, but it will still be a birthday card. And that will be good.
Apparently, we're volunteering at the Florida Film Festival this year, whether I like it or not. And I do. But at least I know there would be no option should I protest.
And now, we're looking at Jeff "I Killed Myself" Buckley pictures, which is cool...
I'm needing to do something...I don't know what. But something.

GIVETH DENNIS MINE TRINKET, STRONGBAD...

Videogame is interesting, to say the least.
I'm tired, but completely ready for rehearsal today...It should be no more than mortifying and argumentatious disaster...Fun!
Excuse me for a moment, as I'm being attacked by pink scarf tassels.

SPAM, THE AMAZING MEAT

Ahh...Home.
Or, computer. Whatever works.
I'm exhausted, but I still contain the need to finish my AP Lang. essay, the 8th Grade skit, etc...Not to mention the fact that I've started this ginormous email to Adam, the Canadian English Teacher (A letter which I am completely lost in the midst of writing...), I can't get that stupid 7-4-13 out of my head (Which is not as bad as the fact that I've encoded his name, proving that I'm the only person in the universe willing to waste the energy to do such things...), and other stuff, the likes of which I have no need to tangle with at this point...
Tired.
I think I need to get offline and try to start on some of tomorrow's stuff...Like my P-Dawg essay and whatever else I can stand to tackle...It should be messy. Brains flying all over the room, crap hitting the fan...
I need paper towels. Horray, Bounty Man.

FLAME RETARDANT FISH, FLUES, FLU, AND FLYING...

Ahh, what a gloriously freezing morning...
I have just a few, breif updates to make before the internet as we know it crashes and burns with a firery vengance:
-I saw Gene last night.
-He offered me a job with Q.
I'll get back to this later.

I'M SH-SH-SHAKIN'...IRONICALLY ENOUGH.

I don't know what Rooney has to do with anything, but then again, I'm not a logical person, so nothing really has to have anything to do with anything else, does it?
I know. I confuse myself sometimes.
Ugh. It's been one of those off days...At least I'm now fully aware of why I enjoy school more than home...There was a series of ten minutes in K-Mart this evening when I felt sure I'd drop dead to the floor, surrounded by discount wrapping paper and hairstyling products galore. It was an eerie ten minutes.
Or, if we're in AP Language, it's "erie." Like the lake.
The youth rally was canceled for Saturday, and I thought for sure I was out of a Genescapade...But no, the Mission From Hell ends early on Sunday, and we can see them with Gayle's horde, and I will once again be lovelost and forlorn.
Hooray!
I suppose I'm most excited over The Phantom Of The Opera come Thursday...It means an afternoon of pure musical theatre greatness, P-Dawg, and Elis. I--
Don't know...
I can't think right now: it's a blobbing gelatin of nothingness that I'm incompetent at harnessing, yet dutifully obliged to torment myself with. Thought, that is. My eyelids shut in a combination of things unknown, exhaustion and scorn surely associated, and I just don't know how to cope with it...I'm not depressed, just inconsiderate...I don't deserve all the things I have in my life, I don't deserve the privileges, and the esteem, and the pride, and the incoherent babbling that flutters across my eyelids at one-hundred-and-eighty-six miles per hour...
I need to stop at this point, I think. Too in-depth for tonight...I need to watch some Strong Bad or something mindless like that...

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...