Basically, Meta-Me would react so much more awesomely in everyday situations. Observe.
Um that’s about the gist of it. Basically there is a way, but Gandalf/Hagrid has not been pooped magically out of the sky and granted me magic powers yet.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Key To The Awesome Vault
When I was little (and p. much still all the time today) I always thought I’d be cooler when I was older. Like, one day, my whole paradigm would just shift and I would be automatically cool. I thought there was some sort of way to gain cool points that I could one day spend on some kind of huge-ass item in the Awesome Vault. Now that I’m older and smarter, though, I realize I probably could be cooler if I tried, but alas I am so lazy and instead I just have a name for the cooler version of me.
Basically, Meta-Me would react so much more awesomely in everyday situations. Observe.
Um that’s about the gist of it. Basically there is a way, but Gandalf/Hagrid has not been pooped magically out of the sky and granted me magic powers yet.
Basically, Meta-Me would react so much more awesomely in everyday situations. Observe.
Um that’s about the gist of it. Basically there is a way, but Gandalf/Hagrid has not been pooped magically out of the sky and granted me magic powers yet.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Blood Drives Aren't For Suckers
See what I did there? I am punny.
A couple days ago I went to a blood drive. It was mainly my friend Katie’s fault. She’s able to peer-pressure me into pretty much anything because she is awesome (I guess it’s a good thing that she’s a good person and donates blood instead of…like…being an axe-murdering prostituting chain-smoking curb stomper, because I’d probably do that too) …but that was that. Basically, I thought it would be a lot different in my imagination.
But it wasn’t like that at all.
It was in the school gym, which smelled of antiseptic wipes and fear. There were recliney-beds everywhere, little private booths that were made of gym-mats, and stern looking medical staff (who were actually really nice, but sort of intimidating). Also, there was a water jug where you had to drink two cups of water before you could get in. It was like a cult. In the corner, (segregated by first-time donors and regulars) you could see the Veterans, who were all chill and reclined in waiting chairs and stuff, and talking about their days in the blood-donor battlefield.
They did not reassure me.
Before I even got asked questions about whether or not I had ever had sex in 1977, I apparently looked like I was going to die, because the head nurse was all like ‘Are you okay? Why aren’t you drinking juice?’ and I was all like ‘I haven’t even gone yet…’ and it was awkward.
But soon enough I was on a bed, staring with extreme interest at the ceiling. Katie was almost done, and she looked even better than before, just getting her kicks and giggles out of draining away one eighth of her blood count.
After Katie was done she came to hold my hand while the nurse drew on my arm with a pen which I thought was a needle and I was in extreme pain and it was sad because, seriously, I thought that bitch was a needle.
Luckily I spurt a lot of nonsense when I’m nervous, so me, Katie and Brett didn’t really stop talking. I told the nurse I was strong like bull so there was no need for them to worry about me. And my face got really hot and my fingers were cold and they got all chubby, that was fun. And I got a revolutionary sash. Then I talked about rapping my top-secret totally anonymous teacher rap, and some other stuff which I don’t remember, and there was Urinetown and also some orange juice. And my blood is fast, apparently (I can donate blood faster than I can run a mile). When I got home, this is all my mother had to share with me:
Yes. I’m glad I could do it, though. I’m glad I could do something with my pretty much useless blood, because now where that one pint of blood used to be, I can store POWER and experience points.
A couple days ago I went to a blood drive. It was mainly my friend Katie’s fault. She’s able to peer-pressure me into pretty much anything because she is awesome (I guess it’s a good thing that she’s a good person and donates blood instead of…like…being an axe-murdering prostituting chain-smoking curb stomper, because I’d probably do that too) …but that was that. Basically, I thought it would be a lot different in my imagination.
But it wasn’t like that at all.
It was in the school gym, which smelled of antiseptic wipes and fear. There were recliney-beds everywhere, little private booths that were made of gym-mats, and stern looking medical staff (who were actually really nice, but sort of intimidating). Also, there was a water jug where you had to drink two cups of water before you could get in. It was like a cult. In the corner, (segregated by first-time donors and regulars) you could see the Veterans, who were all chill and reclined in waiting chairs and stuff, and talking about their days in the blood-donor battlefield.
They did not reassure me.
Before I even got asked questions about whether or not I had ever had sex in 1977, I apparently looked like I was going to die, because the head nurse was all like ‘Are you okay? Why aren’t you drinking juice?’ and I was all like ‘I haven’t even gone yet…’ and it was awkward.
But soon enough I was on a bed, staring with extreme interest at the ceiling. Katie was almost done, and she looked even better than before, just getting her kicks and giggles out of draining away one eighth of her blood count.
After Katie was done she came to hold my hand while the nurse drew on my arm with a pen which I thought was a needle and I was in extreme pain and it was sad because, seriously, I thought that bitch was a needle.
Luckily I spurt a lot of nonsense when I’m nervous, so me, Katie and Brett didn’t really stop talking. I told the nurse I was strong like bull so there was no need for them to worry about me. And my face got really hot and my fingers were cold and they got all chubby, that was fun. And I got a revolutionary sash. Then I talked about rapping my top-secret totally anonymous teacher rap, and some other stuff which I don’t remember, and there was Urinetown and also some orange juice. And my blood is fast, apparently (I can donate blood faster than I can run a mile). When I got home, this is all my mother had to share with me:
Yes. I’m glad I could do it, though. I’m glad I could do something with my pretty much useless blood, because now where that one pint of blood used to be, I can store POWER and experience points.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Vegetarianism Was Always Just A Twinkle In My Mommy's Eyes
I admit it. I am the worst vegetarian. But whenever my (admittedly weak) motives come up for being one, I fight for that cause, dammit, I fight for it like an Amazon on crack. I don’t really know why, maybe it’s because I’m stubborn, maybe it’s because it’s just the way I’ve been, but there are just some things, like powdered chicken fat, that you have to take a stand against.
My family has the strangest fights. In a house of two daughters and a mom, there’s way too much femininity around there that every so often my mom has to channel her General-Shang manfight side (and by that, I mean, use unnecessary force and make her voice all low and scary). One such incident occurred after we’d made pancakes and Sister darling looked in the fridge and, by golly, there was no syrup. At first I hoped it would just blow over.
But it didn’t.
After this went on for a while, my mommy decided to take things into her own hands.
Literally.
Another favourite of mine was when a friend of mine didn’t get an award, but mommy thought she had, and when explained to that it wasn’t actually an award, mommy got all mad at me and thought I was insulting her intelligence and that I should go find a shower out on the street, since that was where I would soon be living.
Yes, there have been some interesting squabbles in our house.
So when the vegetarian one came up again, (it is tried and true, sadly), I was prepared. Well, not really. It was pretty much my problem. There was this small matter of dried chicken fat and I was all like, I’m not really gonna eat that sorry…**awkward pause** and BLAM mommy’s Tolerance Wall just exploded. I can’t blame her. I am really annoying when I believe in something, even when it’s obviously a lie. I have been that way since birth.
So even though there’s really no excuse for ANYONE to follow anyone else around, chanting various types of meat and threatening to buy slabs of it, I can sort of see her reasoning.
My family has the strangest fights. In a house of two daughters and a mom, there’s way too much femininity around there that every so often my mom has to channel her General-Shang manfight side (and by that, I mean, use unnecessary force and make her voice all low and scary). One such incident occurred after we’d made pancakes and Sister darling looked in the fridge and, by golly, there was no syrup. At first I hoped it would just blow over.
But it didn’t.
After this went on for a while, my mommy decided to take things into her own hands.
Literally.
Another favourite of mine was when a friend of mine didn’t get an award, but mommy thought she had, and when explained to that it wasn’t actually an award, mommy got all mad at me and thought I was insulting her intelligence and that I should go find a shower out on the street, since that was where I would soon be living.
Yes, there have been some interesting squabbles in our house.
So when the vegetarian one came up again, (it is tried and true, sadly), I was prepared. Well, not really. It was pretty much my problem. There was this small matter of dried chicken fat and I was all like, I’m not really gonna eat that sorry…**awkward pause** and BLAM mommy’s Tolerance Wall just exploded. I can’t blame her. I am really annoying when I believe in something, even when it’s obviously a lie. I have been that way since birth.
So even though there’s really no excuse for ANYONE to follow anyone else around, chanting various types of meat and threatening to buy slabs of it, I can sort of see her reasoning.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Court Is Not Like Legally Blonde Makes It Look Like
Today I went to court with my mommy. It was fun.
We sat in silence driving, while my stomach grumbled pathetically, until we got there. It was a small building on the outside, brick, with tall windows. Strangely, in my head, I’d pictured it to be taller, with more bluish stone, and with castle turrets and a drawbridge and cartoon men pouring boiling oil over the sides and throwing stuff. But it wasn’t. The decorators must have been really creative because they chose this colour tan that was too light to be poop-coloured and too pale to be puke-coloured, so it was more like a kind of waffly, watered-down cousin of the two mixed together.
When we got there, we experienced the top picks of the Lake Forest Punks, who all sat in silence waiting to mob the courtroom. There were two guys leaning against the wall talking, a girl in blue tights, and some random adults, including an old man in a plaid newsboy hat. I listened in on the boys’ conversation because at least it was more interesting than the job of the women who checked the bags of the people coming in (they looked like they were having the time of their life. But, they did get to wear bow ties, so I mean, how bad could it be?). And it was like this:
I had fallen in with a crowd of the most baddest of the asses.
When it was time to get in, I was pretty much scared out of my mind. I was grateful for the clerk lady because she reminded me of Garcia from Criminal Minds, but that was about it. There were like eight benches and I followed my mommy to one, because the big bad crowd of Lake Forest Punks scared me. It was like we were being silently judged as we moved through the crowd. We passed up Badass Young Guys With Multiple Tickets to sit by Silent Asian Man in Penny Loafers. Then when they called my name IT WAS TIME TO FACE THE JUDGE BWA DAAAAAA DUMMMM
(But it really wasn’t that bad and I am saying this because one day the remnants of this blog, old and cold like the bottom of a cup of coffee, will wash up on the Everlasting Shores of the Internet and at the foot of my job and, much like a cup of old coffee, I’m going to have to own up to it.)
Basically, it was all like ‘YOUUUUUU’VE DONNE A BAAAD THIINNNNG YOOOUNNG WHOOMANNN YOOOOOOU BEETTERRRR WATCHHH YOOOOO BACKKKK CUZZZ IMMA GETTTCHAAAA AGAIIINNNNNNN AND IFFF I DONNT GETCHAAA THEN LAW JESUS WILL TAKE YOUR SOULLLLL’ in an echoey old 70s-movie-esque- special -effects laden bad Halloween movie with absolutely no pity or humour anywhere in that crowd. It makes me not want to be a lawyer, even thought I went through this phase which was all ‘I’m gonna be the best damn lawyer OUT THERE and bring MAGIC and HUMAN EMPATHY to EVERY COURTROOM EVERYWHERE dammit’, which was heavily inspired by Legally Blonde (but with PIZAZZ. PIZAZZ like tap-dancing and mashed potatoes with cheese and herbs and stuff.)
Basically, I learned my lesson from the time I got pulled over (by a man who looked like a cross between Javert and Charlie from Fringe) and there was no need to go through all that utter seriousness (which I am still not done with. I still get to go to Traffic School, so Lake Forest Punks: The Sequel is in order!) just to scare me more. I even tried to look sooper innocent today (I found a butterfly clip from third grade!) but apparently even sixteen year olds are supposed to know to call the judge ‘ma’m’ and stuff. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT
I MEAN IT’S NOT LIKE IT’S COMMON SENSE OR ANYTHING
But yeah. It was fun, but, no thanks to doing it again.
(this did not happen in real life. only in katie’s dreams)
Also, this didn’t have as many pictures as I’d like, so here’s some.
Macbeth’s Origins
We sat in silence driving, while my stomach grumbled pathetically, until we got there. It was a small building on the outside, brick, with tall windows. Strangely, in my head, I’d pictured it to be taller, with more bluish stone, and with castle turrets and a drawbridge and cartoon men pouring boiling oil over the sides and throwing stuff. But it wasn’t. The decorators must have been really creative because they chose this colour tan that was too light to be poop-coloured and too pale to be puke-coloured, so it was more like a kind of waffly, watered-down cousin of the two mixed together.
When we got there, we experienced the top picks of the Lake Forest Punks, who all sat in silence waiting to mob the courtroom. There were two guys leaning against the wall talking, a girl in blue tights, and some random adults, including an old man in a plaid newsboy hat. I listened in on the boys’ conversation because at least it was more interesting than the job of the women who checked the bags of the people coming in (they looked like they were having the time of their life. But, they did get to wear bow ties, so I mean, how bad could it be?). And it was like this:
I had fallen in with a crowd of the most baddest of the asses.
When it was time to get in, I was pretty much scared out of my mind. I was grateful for the clerk lady because she reminded me of Garcia from Criminal Minds, but that was about it. There were like eight benches and I followed my mommy to one, because the big bad crowd of Lake Forest Punks scared me. It was like we were being silently judged as we moved through the crowd. We passed up Badass Young Guys With Multiple Tickets to sit by Silent Asian Man in Penny Loafers. Then when they called my name IT WAS TIME TO FACE THE JUDGE BWA DAAAAAA DUMMMM
(But it really wasn’t that bad and I am saying this because one day the remnants of this blog, old and cold like the bottom of a cup of coffee, will wash up on the Everlasting Shores of the Internet and at the foot of my job and, much like a cup of old coffee, I’m going to have to own up to it.)
Basically, it was all like ‘YOUUUUUU’VE DONNE A BAAAD THIINNNNG YOOOUNNG WHOOMANNN YOOOOOOU BEETTERRRR WATCHHH YOOOOO BACKKKK CUZZZ IMMA GETTTCHAAAA AGAIIINNNNNNN AND IFFF I DONNT GETCHAAA THEN LAW JESUS WILL TAKE YOUR SOULLLLL’ in an echoey old 70s-movie-esque- special -effects laden bad Halloween movie with absolutely no pity or humour anywhere in that crowd. It makes me not want to be a lawyer, even thought I went through this phase which was all ‘I’m gonna be the best damn lawyer OUT THERE and bring MAGIC and HUMAN EMPATHY to EVERY COURTROOM EVERYWHERE dammit’, which was heavily inspired by Legally Blonde (but with PIZAZZ. PIZAZZ like tap-dancing and mashed potatoes with cheese and herbs and stuff.)
Basically, I learned my lesson from the time I got pulled over (by a man who looked like a cross between Javert and Charlie from Fringe) and there was no need to go through all that utter seriousness (which I am still not done with. I still get to go to Traffic School, so Lake Forest Punks: The Sequel is in order!) just to scare me more. I even tried to look sooper innocent today (I found a butterfly clip from third grade!) but apparently even sixteen year olds are supposed to know to call the judge ‘ma’m’ and stuff. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT
I MEAN IT’S NOT LIKE IT’S COMMON SENSE OR ANYTHING
But yeah. It was fun, but, no thanks to doing it again.
(this did not happen in real life. only in katie’s dreams)
Also, this didn’t have as many pictures as I’d like, so here’s some.
Macbeth’s Origins
Monday, November 1, 2010
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