TERRORIST THREATS IRRADICATED? YOU DECIDE...

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

OH, THE PROFOUND IDIOCY OF BLACKBOARD!

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

AN EYE FOR AN EYE, I SAY...

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

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

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

ARG, ME HEARTIES...

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

HURRICANE PREPAREDNESS GUIDE
Dave Barry

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

1. There is no need to panic.

2. We could all be killed.

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

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

STEP 2. Put these supplies into your car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- 23 Flashlights.

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

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

-- A 55-gallon drum of underarm deodorant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANOTHER JOHN BITES THE DUST...

Johnny Cash and John Ritter...
Damn.

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

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

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

"German Cop Beaten Up By Dwarf Kangaroo"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless you're allergic to fur...

WHY DOES KELLEY LOVE THE POPE?

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

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

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

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

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

TOO MUCH SCOTT? YOU DECIDE...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Induhvidual: "Wow. That's ironic."

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

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

Me: "So anything unlikely is automatically ironic?"

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

Me: "This conversation is ironic."

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