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.]
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Thursday, October 23, 2003
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
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.
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.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
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...
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...
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
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.
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.
Monday, September 29, 2003
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...
This California recall thingy is getting a bit out of hand...
Sunday, September 28, 2003
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.
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."
"If you need a certified copy of your death certificate, you should contact the Certification Unit of the Oregon Center for Health Statistics."
Friday, September 26, 2003
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!
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!
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
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...
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?
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?
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