Beat the System

A hall monitor told me my shorts were too short to wear at school. I replied, “Alright, I’ll just go wear them elsewhere, then.” And I left school. Haha, I win.

I have returned from my (unannounced) blogging hiatus!

So, I know I haven’t blogged in a while.   And I know how much of cliche it is to say that. But it must be said.

To catch you up, I’ll give you a brief overview of the end of my summer and the beginning of my senior year.  You’re welcome.

• School is school.  After going to the Vocal Arts Institute at Mpulse at  U of M this summer, being in my high school choir again is hard to adjust to.
• I’m going to my last high school Homecoming dance this Saturday.
• I’ve decided that I do love my hair short and so it will get cut and remain that way. =]
• Today, Twitter had a topic trend called #Iamsinglebecause. I searched it and all of them were all, “#iamsinglebecause I am fat” or “because boys are idiots” or “because I’m f*@&ed up.”  I posted one. “#Iamsinglebecause I choose to be.“
• The Detroit Lions beat the Washington Redskins. (!)
• Laser tag is all I will be doing in Heaven.
• I got my homecoming dress for $8. 
• I got my license!
• And a car.
• It’s name is Marty. Marty McFly.
• He’s a Transformer.

 

And now, for some of my absolute favorite internetz finds! =]

• This is hilarious.
• This is indexed.com
• They make words.
• These are moments.
• I am not alone in this.
• I’ll admit it: I am a whore. For chairs.
• I can has sparkle.
• This feeds your soul.
• I want these.
• My self esteem isn’t low enough to date you.
• This is awesome.
• This is average.
• This is me as a senior.
• This may be for you.
• This is Gewgle.
• These girls have curly hair.

I know it’s been a while, but I’ll make it up to you with a crazy party.

Ben: Hey, there.
Me: Hey.
Ben: What’s goin on?
Me: Not too much. I have the house to myself until Sunday.
Me: Muahaha. 
Me: Let the wild parties commence.
Ben: PARTY
Ben: Hahaha.
Ben: Oh yes cause that is so you.
Me: I know, right?
Ben: hhaha, exactly
Me: I am the god of throwing wild parties that you’ll regret attending tomorrow.
Ben: *rolls eyes* what ever you say hahaa
Me: No really, Megan still remembers my going away party from when I moved from here to NC in the first grade.
Me: THAT’S ELEVEN YEARS LATER.
Me: How many parties that don’t result in teenage pregnancies or STD’s are remembered eleven years later?
Ben: hahahaha uhh idk? i don’t know that statistic but im sure there is one out there haha
Me: NONE.
Me: That’s how cool I am.
Me: You just don’t understand.
Ben: hahaha i really don’t.

Things that you can’t do angrily…

• Eat an ice cream cone.
• Hopscotch
• Tickle some one
• Dance
• Sleep
• Paint your toenails
• Blow bubbles
• Have a silly string fight
• Eat a s’more
• Bow for a well-earned applause
• Finger paint
• Jump on a trampoline
• Hold a three-day-old kitten
• Listen to Boom Boom Boom Boom by the Vengaboys
• Sing “Happy Birthday”

“Yearbook” is one word, right?

You know what’s always weird about school this time of year?       Signing yearbooks.

There’s several types of yearbook signers:

• Those who take up a whole page with giant, bubbly handwriting. These people probably don’t really care what they’re writing to you; they just want to make themselves feel important.
• Those who take up a whole page with an actual, heart-felt letter.  These people are probably some of your best friends. The letter is either sentimental and will make you cry and sad to graduate or it’s hilarious and will make you laugh until you cry and possibly pee your pants.
• Then there’s the complete opposite: The people who write “HAGS” and their name, if not their initials. Or they only sign their name/initials. (Warning: if I sign your yearbook like this, I probably sort of hate you.)
• There are those people who have one signature message that they write in everyone’s yearboook. This message probably goes something like this: “Hey! This year was so much fun with you! I hope you have an awesome Summer! We should totally hang out! Stay cool!”  Blah blah blah.
• Those people who, similarly, write the same thing in everyone’s yearbook but it’s only an uncomfortable little rhyme that they think is clever.  Example: “Some sign in front, some sign in back, but look at me, I signed your crack!”  (…..Yeah.  I’ve had that one before…..)
• There are those who write something just to write something. “Hey. Hi, hello, howdy, hola….  H is a fun letter.” (This is an actual entry in my own yearbook.)
• Those who read all the other entries in some one’s yearbook and secretly try to top them all with the ultimate yearbook message.
• And then there are those acquaintences who mention only a couple inside jokes: “Remember when you hit your head on a broom stick and got that bruise on your head for Homecoming? Sooo funny! See you next year!”  (Also an actual entry in my yearbook.) (I never did that.)

I’m pretty sure I’ve experienced all the above sorts of yearbook signers by now.  But, you know what?  I have one more year left and I hope that next year I’ll be able to read some messages in the back of my book and not think “I wonder if they actually meant it.”

There’s also a couple different MOs when it comes to people letting you sign their yearbook:

• Those who reserve three pages – each page for a different “bestie” to take up the entire space of.
• Those who won’t let anyone at all sign it until their BEST FRIEND signs it first.
• Those who secretly compete with everyone else to get the most signatures in their yearbook, regardless of whether they are actually friends or not and secretly check out everyone else’s yearbooks.
• Those people who are too cool for you to sign their yearbooks and lend it out to their exclusive groupies and whenever you ask if you could sign their yearbook always say that one of their cronies has it.
• Those people who tell you that they didn’t get one because they don’t want you to want to sign it.
• Those who really don’t take it that seriously but might appreciate the nostalgia and lets anyone who really wants to sign their yearbook. I am this person.

No. No, you don’t.

www.doihavepigflu.com

This is Awesome.

Muwhahaha.com

 

My only suggestion, though, would be to have it cycle through varying maniacal laughs.

 

=]

Obama sees dead people!

Just for all y’all’s future education, the difference between Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day is that on the former, we honor those who have died while serving their country, the latter is for those who have served their country and are still alive.

Does the president know that?

(you probably don’t want to watch the whole thing. It’s right at the beginning)

But seriously, Happy Memorial Day… Or something. It’s probably not a generally happy holiday, but I don’t know how else to say it. =]

(And I threw this one in for fun.)

Warning: My rambling leads to cannibalism. Not the act of it, just the discussion topic. So far.

I’m totally in one of those moods where I can ramble really effectively and just from one topic to another topic to another. And what the fudge, exactly, does “ranmble effectively” even mean? What’s the goal of rambling? Is there a point?  Some one should run for senator and campeign all about how they should be elected because they can ramble really well and would rock the house down during filibusters (because this is the only scenario I can think of where rambling has a purpose).  And a senator who can rock the House down while rambling is even more impressive because the House is a whole other part of Congress! 

Anyway, what I meant is that I’m in this mood and I kind of like it because it’s like I get to explore my brain and just see where it goes (which can be very dangerous rewarding, I assure you.)

And my friend, Danike, wrote this post and in it, she mentioned about how she didn’t have any peanut butter to go with her jellyed bread and I responded and it makes me kind of worried proud that I was able to ramble this long about possibly the most unimportant point in her post.

My response:

I’ll be your peanut butter! ….Metaphorically, of course. I don’t know how I feel about being covered in bread covered in jelly.  I don’t think I like that very much. And I can’t imagine it’d taste all that great. And I’m getting a little weirded out imagining what I’d look (or taste) like with jelly and bread.  I do know that I wouldn’t taste as good with it as peanut butter. I wasn’t made from peanuts. I was made from human.  And God.  He was a part of it, too.  But I guess if you’re into the whole human-jelly thing, then hit me up.  We might (totally NEVER) work something out. But if you are one of those people who are into human jelly, what part of the human is the jelly from?  Not like I really want to know, but my curiosity always killed all my cats. If it’s made out of organs or goo or something that can be removed from a person and they can still live, is it still canibalism?  But I imagine if you make human-jelly out of the parts of humans that are extraneous, it wouldn’t be as good. But if you made it out of hearts, then wouldn’t that just be poetic?  And because of how poetic it is, people would be all, “dude, if I eat this heart jelly, will I fall in love?” and they’ll think they’re kidding but they’ll all secretly hope that they will and then they will because of the Placebo Effect. But the problem will be that they’ll fall in love without the guaruntee that they’ll have some one to fall in love with. I mean, in love with them back. That would suck if you ate the jelly hoping for a lover and you fell in love with your pet donkey or something like that guy in a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Only he was made INTO a donkey and then had a fairy queen fall in love with him. And she got toally rejected! Poor thing. Apparently, that wasn’t flower juice Puck used, it was heart jelly.  Maybe the donkey man just needed some heart jelly, too. Maybe every one needs heart jelly!  Everyone would “fall in love” with everyone!

I just found out the key to world peace.

Tchyah.

Breaking News: Doing it is entertaining.

I was eating out with my parents and my sister.  I kept making them all laugh and my mother said “Where else can you find entertainment like this?”

Okay, so right here, my train of thought went to okay, you could get it the same place I came from, but I don’t wanna say womb because that would be gross and we’re eating and it’d be weird and I hate that word anyway.

So I went to an event a little earlier in that process.  

I replied with, “Sex!”

 

 

…That’s not exactly how I meant it.   Thankfully, my mother didn’t hear me clearly and if she had, I probably would have gotten in some trouble…