Want to hear a joke?

So four girls are at a singles activity. They don't know each other very well, but they all happen to be standing together. Suddenly, from the north, a giant beam of light appears stretching from the ground to the heavens.

The first girl falls to her knees and shouts,

"It's the second coming!" she then proceeds to pray for forgiveness for all the things she's ever done wrong.

The second girl started crying and reading her scriptures, cramming, as it were, for the eternal test.

The third girl glances up at the beam of light and merely grunts.

"Why," said the fourth girl to the third girl "do you not think it's the second coming?"

The third girl rolls her eyes and says, "Not unless Jesus is going to Weber State University first. That's their *moon spot."

The fourth girl looked down at the now confused repentant girls and laughed really really hard.

I was that fourth girl.

I suppose there should have been some immortal lesson about being prepared with maybe a ten virgins analogy thrown in, but I was too busy laughing.

*Weber state has a spotlight they shine up to the moon to measure the distance between here and there. But it can easily be mistaken for the pillar of light often associated with celestial descents. It also has been used to call Utah's own vigilante when it's cloudy.

Oh yeah, and...

One more dating tip: If you have already asked a girl on a date, don't call her back and let her know that she was actually a wrong number for another girl with the same name, but it's okay, we can still go on a date. I'll hang up on you.

Dating tips. aka- Why I'm not married

I don't date a whole lot, but when I do, they seem to go south. And not just for the winter. They generally buy a beach house and settled down. The following tips are experiences, either from me, or close friends. They are all true. However, if you are reading this and happened to have dated me, I promise it's not you. Even if it's the exact same date and you remember the exact same conversation, it's some other guy who was much geekier than you were.

Tip #1: When on a date, do not incessantly talk about your ex-girlfriend. Not only is it bad manners, but it also distracts you from noticing that your date is pounding her head against the car window and trying to figure out the safest way to jump from the moving vehicle. Also don't insist that your date is more extroverted than she actually is. Your conversations might go something like this:

"So I bet you date a lot."

"No, not really."

"No, I bet you date a lot."

"No. No really, I don't"

"No, I bet you have a lot of boyfriends."

"Not really, no."

"Naw, I bet you do."

"Yes. yes I do."

"Oh yes?"

"Yeah, in fact I just broke up with my old boyfriend. He was really good looking. and rich. and really really nice. Charming, you know? and a really great smile."

"What happened?"

"He got deported."

"Oh. Sorry."

After you do not do this, also do not continue talking about your ex-girlfriend.

Tip #2: When on a date, do not act as though you are still in high school. Do not mention people you haven't seen for four years in the hopes that you and your date will have known the same people. They probably don't.

Tip #3: When asking a girl on a date over the phone, don not spend minutes of silence trying to figure out what to say.

"Hey." says boy

"Hey." says girl

*loud breathing.*

"How are you?" asks girl

"Good. how are you?" answers boy

"Good. Getting, you know, older."

*loud breathing*

"So, what can I do for you?" girl asks brightly.

"'I was..."

silence

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you'd..."

silence

"Need a favor?" girl asks hopefully.

"No, I was wondering if you'd go on... you know..."

"A safari?"

"No."

"A quiz show?"

"A date."

"Ah. Ah. there it is."

"With me."

Thus you have spent ten minutes asking a three second question. Don't do that.

Tip #4: When on a date with a girl, do not spend the entire time explaining the many plot twists of Stargate SG-1 and insist that she watch your home videos portraying you as a jedi and your self choreographed light saber fights. Odds are she's not interested. And it sort of marks you as a nerd.

Tip #5: Throughout your date, do not, at any time casually say something like,

"Whoops, better not do that. I could get sent back to jail for something like that."

It's not funny.

Tip#6: If you are lucky enough to go on a second date with a girl, DO NOT BRING UP MARRIAGE!! Unless you are absolutely sure of yourself. That will scare girls away faster than anything. Also, do not get too cozy with her after you have mentioned that you want to get married as soon as you can.

Thus I am still single.

I can go on, but I think I have already been mean. again, it's not you, it's some other guy. If you have a bad dating experience, feel free to comment with it.

In the dark of the night.

I hate nightmares.

I don't have them very often, but when I do, they are vivid and frightening. I had one the other night.

I dreamed that our next door neighbor was kinda creepy and kept asking me all these questions about my and my sisters routines. Eventually I slammed the door in his face. He must not have liked that because I came home from shopping the next day to find my sisters had been killed. It was awful. There was blood spattered everywhere, and the killer had drawn a smiley face in blood on our wall. I knew it was the next door neighbor, deep deep down inside. The FBI came and cleaned everything up, and they also told me that the serial killer was now after me. We knew this because at the funeral, someone handed me an envelope filled with money, and on each one of the bills, a letter was circled, and it spelled out "I'm going to get you!"

I don't know where there is a exclamation point on any money, but it was there in the dream.

Anyway, I had to change my name and move, but every time I did, he would find me again and try and kill me.

I woke up at 2 shaking and couldn't get back to sleep. I kept trying to convince myself that there was nothing wrong, but that I had better stay in bed, just in case. Then I had to go to the bathroom. So, picking up my Snow White piggy bank figuring I could princess him to death if anyone tried anything, and with my back against the wall, I made for the bathroom.

After taking a few breaths and telling myself nothing was wrong, I walked around the apartment, checking for bad guys. Satisfied that no one was there, I went back to bed and hid my head under the covers. Then I peeked out again, just in case.

Please share nightmares so that I won't feel so silly about being scared out of my mind. It seems dumb now, but at the time it was freaky.

Beware!!

I am the phantom of the e-mail.

I'm so wicked.

A while ago, I played a trick on my little sister.

Sometimes, she checks her e-mail on my computer and the password pops up whenever you type in her user name. One day, just as a joke, I logged in and changed her background. I didn't read any e-mails or anything. A couple of weeks later, out of curiosity, I log in again to find she had changed it back. I changed it again. This went on for a month or so before I decided to take it to the next level.

I logged in and wrote an e-mail to that same account saying,

"This is the ghost of your e-mail. You shall do what I say."

And I sent it.

She put it in Spam.

Giggling, I took it out of spam and wrote another one saying,

"I am not spam! I am the ghost of your e-mail and you can not escape me! Bwahahahahahaha!

ps, Bwahahahahahaha!!!"

I figured that after that she'd dismiss it as a joke, I didn't think hackers had a sense of humor.

She put me in Spam again.

This time I wrote,

"If you put me in Spam one more time, I shall put a curse on you family! Answer me!"

By this time, I was throughly enjoying myself.

As it so happened, I visited my sister that next weekend. I had brought my computer, and was trying to log in to her account again when I discovered she had changed the password. Bummed, I went to my other little sister to ask what it was, and when she didn't know, I thought I'd go directly to the source. When I gently broached the subject of e-mail passwords, little sister the first looked at me with big eyes and whispered,

"I think someone is trying to steal my identity! They keep logging in and sending me e-mails!"

Trying desperately to keep a straight face, I asked,

"So, what's you're new password?"

"Oh, it's--" and then she saw my face.

The gag was up.

I think she threatened to not talk to me for a week, but she eventually forgave me. The moral of this story is, if there is a mysterious person e-mailing you from your own account, it's probably me. Don't change your password.

I sold my soul for a fish.

I think the title is pretty self explanatory. It was a swordfish.

Matchmaker

So I have been getting more and more wrong numbers asking for Kristen. Okay, only three, but the point is, I have found out, through a misdirected text that Kristen and Josh are now together. That's right! Josh from Lagoon who hitches rides off of random parents! Kristen is a lucky girl. I cannot help but think I had something to do with their good fortune.

I hope they mention me at their wedding.

Birthday!!!

Yesterday was my birthday. It was great. I have the best family and friends in the world. My sisters gave me brekfast in bed and then me and H (names shortened to protect the innocent.) and I went downtown and had lunch. I had a jolly old time riding trax. Then I drove to my family's home and they fed me the tastiest dinner and we had ice cream and mousse cake. And then my other sister, L took me to Barnes and Noble and told me to choose whatever I wanted! Poor L is now broke, but I'm happy. I dropped L off at the mall and I was accosted by one of those little weight loss shops that sit in the middle of the isle and jump on people who pass. The lady came up to me and said,

"Excuse me, would you like to try our new green tea weight loss shake?"

I looked at her blankly and said,

"Do I look like I need to lose weight?"

(for those of you who know me, the answer is a decided YES!)

"Oh no!" she assured me, "Not at all!"

"Oh good, thank you for your time." I strode off.

I hate those little shops, and that felt really good.

But the best part is that late in the morning, I recieved a text that said,

"Hey Kristin, I'm Josh. We met at Lagoon a few weeks ago while I was working. your mom drove me home:) remember?"

I texted back,

"Hey josh. First of all how are you? Secondly, I think you have the wrong number. You owe me 25 cents for this text."

He didn't respond. That made me sad.

I love birthdays!

Throws of Agony

I am in the depths of despair!

I just got rejected from the university of my choice. Now I am a complete and utter failure. I was only a partial failure before, when I wasn't going to a university at all, but now that I'm trying to go back to school, they don't want me. *sob*. I think I'll go drown myself in three tubs of Ben and Jerrys and then walk the streets like a homeless person and finally fall asleep on a park bench. It's all I'm good for. Woe is me. Pity me, cear reader. I am counting on you all to tell me how unworthless I am and bolster my ego.

Life sucks.

Cracking my toes

So I haven't written in a while. I blame that on us spiraling towards the sun. It has very obviously been a bad month for the earth, as it has for me.
I wish I could say I have something to write about, but I've been very lazy, sitting around watching episodes of Lost, which I don't like very much, and cracking my toes. Why was I watching Lost if I don't like it very much? well, I think I'll blame it on the earth spiraling towards the sun. Besides, they all have such messed up lives, it's like watching a plane wreck. Ha! That's kind of funny.

I went to the midnight showing of Harry Potter 6 when it first came out. It was fun. I had never gone to a midnight showing before.
There was a reason.
I noticed there were a lot of people who had forgotten to take their monthly shower lined up with me. Dressed up in their gryffindor t-shirts and a lightning bolt scar drawn on their foreheads. As One of my sisters read a book, and the other was being cornered by a guy who thought she was cute, I noticed a group of teenagers with giant Harry Potter bags and they were peeking inside and giggling.
I am naturally curious, and was very conveniently bored, so I inched back until I could hear what they were saying.
"I don't think they'll let us in with it." said one girl dressed as Harry.
"Well, just keep it in the bag and they won't notice." Said a boy dressed as Hermione. They were pretty weird.
"I dunno, it won't stay cold for long." Said one who was generically Hogwarts. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl.
They shifted the contents of the bag. and I saw a package of oreos and a half gallon of milk.
So they were smuggling milk into the theaters. The problem was, that that was very obviously all they had. No cups. How were they going to dunk their cookies? The milk hole is too small, believe me I've tried.
I was gagging at visions of oreo laden backwash when the line moved and we entered the theater.
The guy who thought my sister was cute opened the door for her and not for my other sister and me. rude. I suppose it's what I get for having cute sisters.
I hope you had a great month, I'll try to post more!

I wanna hold your haaaaaaand!

I remember writing a personal essay once for a class in high school, and it occurred to me after three years, why mt teacher told me it wasn't what she was looking for. I couldn't find the essay, so if it isn't written like a proper essay, that's why. I'm writing off the cuff, but it went something like this:

I have never been a romantic person. I'm the kind who pretends to gag at the cheesy love scenes in movies. So therefore it is not surprising when I say that the opposite sex has never taken many liberties with me. I have been grateful for this. And slightly disappointed. I am a girl, after all. It was only within the past year that I have been encouraging the sort of behavior normal teenage girl would promote in males of the same age. It has been a miserable attempt.
I reaped the results of my efforts about a week ago when I went to a get together held by a friend. It could even be called a shindig. We watched a movie, I remember vividly what movie it was, but for the sake of discretion I will say it was An Affair to Remember. (at least, that movie is a lot more romantic than the one we actually watched. I do think this sort of thing should happen in a romantic movie. Please excuse the fact that no group of high school teens would watch An Affair to Remember on their own accord)
Anyway, among the invited were two of my friends whom I shall call, "Marcus" and "Ben". Marcus was a a friend I had had since junior high, and we had always been very close. Ben was one of the poor fools I had attempted my feminine wiles upon. Both of them sat next to me during the movie. It was fairly enjoyable, I was snickering cynically.
I was just about to remark on Cary Grants methods of wooing, when I felt a poke. Someone was poking my right leg. And then a pinkie curled around mine, and before I knew it, Ben had clasped my hand and was holding it awkwardly. It was very uncomfortable, especially since I had blushed to the roots of my hair, and the room was already hot. I was debating what to do when Marcus, on my other side, took a daring move and held my other hand.
"..." I thought.
I think they were both wondering what my reaction was, because they looked at me right at the same time, and ended up looking at each other, because I was sunk so low in my seat they could see straight over me.
They looked at each other.
They looked at my hands.
And then Marcus, who has always been very good humored, started to laugh.
Then they both laughed.
Then the whole room laughed, because they all saw what was going on.
I wanted to weep and then die.
Being stupid high school boys, they milked all they could out of it. They both kissed me on the cheeks at the same time. I wanted to duck and have them kiss each other like in the cartoons. That'd serve them right. But I was frozen to the spot.

I forgot how I ended the essay, but I'm sure it was some moving analogy on karma or something. I'm sure it was brilliant. Anyway, I wanted to share it so that all of you who know me will nod and say "Oh! That's why she is the way she is." It scarred me for life, I can tell you.

I'm a gangster!

so I bought new shoes.
My old ones were falling apart, sad to say. They had an ancient Chinese charm on them and everything! But, alas, the Chinese are not as reliable as they once were. I think it has something to do with their sweat shops.
Anyway, I got new shoes, and they are gangster! They make me feel on the edge! Like hanging out with my home-ies, and shupe-dogging the town and listening to p-diddy and mos def all day. Which is weird, because I don't know how to shupe-dogg.
Gangsters use a lot of hyphons.
Anyway, The shoes are too big, so I considered stuffing the toes with something. But everything gangster-ish that came to mind wouldn't work. Dollar bills are a waste, crack is illegal, and brass knuckles are just uncomfortable. I guess I'll have to live with the clunking.
So I was studying my way cool, super bad foot wear and noticed that the gold filgeree (not real gold, sadly) was actually a collage of pictures. There were chains and thorn vines, lip outlines, skulls, some sort of gangster sign and then--
There it was!
Jammed between a star and the sillouette of an ice cream cone was...
An apple with a smily face in the center.
It was like these shoes had been made for me. It was like the guy at the shoe-making factory looked at this particular pair of shoes and said to himself,
"This pair is different!" And then crossing himself, as all good catholic shoemakers do, said "I should mark it. Something brilliant! something meaningful!"
And then the light bulb above his head goes off and he bends down to add little golden apples with bright shining smilies in their center.
Thank you my dear catholic shoemaker!

I have the best shoes ever!

Let the sun shine in...

I am on a hair kick!
My lustrous, long, lurid locks are unlikely to look lanky or limp for long!
heh heh...ahem.
I have decided that I am going to be a hair fanatic. I'm going to have the kind of hair that causes car accidents and makes people run into things because they are staring at my beautiful hair. That kind of hair. So I looked up what to do to have outrageously stellar hair.
I slather my hair in oil every week.
Now I know what you're thinking, but it's not as bad as all that. It smells like coconuts, and it can't be so bad if it smells like that.
I only wash it twice a week.
It may sound gross, but it's actually really good for my hair. It makes it more manageable. Besides, I bathe!
And I only hair dry once a month
And I put in silk dr--

So, none of these things are particularly interesting, but I haven't blogged for a while, and my life is so boring, I had to talk about something. I am always up for talking about my hair. so there it is. I promise I'll try to do something that'll earn the interest of this, my blog. Sorry for the lame post. Next time I'll just make something up.

Meanwhile, I would love some suggestions on what to blog about. Pleeeeease?

Only you can prevent stupidity.

They made me safety team leader at work.
First of all, BAD IDEA!!!
Second, I am probably the worst person in a emergency. But they gave me the badge, and told me that all I needed to do was attend the meetings and make sure everyone wore their safety glasses.
Not true, as it turns out.
Our Safety commander is a Nazi. Granted, a nice one.
We have been through three drills in the past two weeks. And apparently, there are more to come. I don't really mind, only I wish I knew exactly what I was supposed to be doing. About a week ago, I heard my name on the intercom, and, puzzled, I met up with six or seven other people who are on the safety team. Our safety commandant...er...commander then marched us into a meeting room and stood us against the wall.
I felt like I was on the losing side of a firing squad.
In front of me was a sleek mahogany table lined with ties. Well, people wearing them, but it's the ties that scared me the most. I felt I was being stared down by the people running the place, and I all the sudden wished I hadn't worn my charlie the unicorn shirt.
Then they started to ask us questions. And they weren't questions they were asking, they were questions they were demanding. What was the weirdest to me, was that everyone else knew just what to say. I had only been a safety person for three months at that point, and had only gone over the basics. When it came my turn, I was scared stiff.
"When you radio in, who do you contact?!!!"
"Er...the person on the other end of the conversation."
Well, it made sense at the time. I didn't know the persons name. The kindly Nazi jumped to my rescue.
"That's right, and your supervisor."
"Yeah."
I then shrank back in shame. When it came time for my turn again, I was determined to get it right.
"How do you sweep the building?!!!"
It was irresistible.
"With a broom!"

...so it turns out the people who run the mill don't have a sense of humor.
Either way, the meeting that ensued afterward consisted of our leader telling us (me) that we needed more practice on our procedure.
"After all," says he, "We never know then there will be an earthquake or a fire, or even a terrorist bomb!"
Because, as we all know, terrorists sit in their lairs (or whatever it is terrorists plot in) and discuss what to terrorize next.
"We could bomb a air base!"
"No! we could bomb the White House!"
"No!! I have it! We could bomb *dramatic pause* A CLOTHING MILL!! BWAHAHAHA!!"
(Because that's how terrorists laugh.)
"Yes! That'll bring this country to it's knees!!"

Anyway, if there actually does turn out to be a terror threat on my sewing mill, I'll let you know. meanwhile, I encourage you all to watch this movie

http://www.hulu.com/watch/55744/the-office-a-lesson-on-fire

There's um...some swearing, but it's kinda funny.
It reminds me of a later meeting, when the boss said he thought it would be fun to have a guy with a gun come in, as a simulation.
That got a great reception.

Oh Pook!

I bought a ring!
I had always been meaning to, and now I finally have. It is a very special ring, and I had to order it over the internet. And it came today.
I remember seeing the package in the mailbox.
I all but ran home. I rushed inside to put down all the useless bills and ads and such and started to open my package wildly. My sister came in and watched.
Finally it was open.
I pulled out my ring.
"Oh, it's..uh...nice" My sister said with a face that said 'That is the ugliest ring I've ever seen.'
And so it was, but I still loved it.
I got on a sly face and said, "Oh, but there's more."
And then the sky turned orange
And I got a giant zigzag all around me (the kind batman gets whenever he punches someone)
And really cool music started to play
And I opened the jewel on my ring!!!!!
"..."said my sister.
"Hah! You're speechless, I can see you are!"
"They have rings like that at the Shakespearean Festival." She said, and walked away.
I felt my zigzag deflate.
I had spent hours on the internet trying to find my magic ring.
And it was really ugly.
And the jewel that opened was tiny.
And when was I going to use it? I couldn't just put poison in it and assassinate someone for the fun of it. That's just rude!
That's when I started to reflect on the great muti purposes for my ring!
If I happened to be in a street fight, and I punched someone with it on, it would hurt that person really bad. Dang! It was just like I had bought a brass knuckle! (singular)
And if all else fails, I could use it as a really cool napkin ring!
all in all, I think I made a wise purchase, because just in case someone ever needed poisoning, The option was open!

meh.

I'm so cool

I was given a Kreativ Blog tag. A "golden star" if you will. I was tagged my none other than my amazing sister, Heather, whose blog not only inspires me but fills me with a overpowering and nearly indecent urge to dance. weird, huh? She is an amazing artist and I recommend you all take a look at her blog, it's amazing. She is the most Talented artist I know (yes, with a capital T) granted, I don't know very many artists...
Anyway, thank you Heather. I started this blog only two months ago, and I'm already getting awards for it. This means I'm on track for winning the Nobel Peace Prize by next year.
Tradition states that I need to give seven things that make me happy, and tag seven people. Here goes.
1-Stories. Tales. Scenes. Anything that tells you something. I love to listen to peoples stories, I love to tell stories, I love to read stories, especially to someone. I'm not a purist when it comes to this. I will get my stries any way I can. Books, friends, movies, teleivision, theatre, it doesn't matter.

2-Hats. I love hats. I collect them. Or, I used to. There was something really great about dressing up in a hat and pretending you were a viking, or a pirate, or mexican who sparatically threw down their hat and did the sombrero dance they learned in third grade.

3-Making people laugh. Fooling them into thinking I'm clever.

4-Weekends at home.

5-Performing. Singing, dancing, acting, whatever. As long as I'm playing a role. I can't talk in front of a group of over five unless I'm on stage. odd.

6-Ice Cream. It's like a drug.

7-Perspective.

as for the seven blogs I want to tag...
Heather of course, for her marvelous personality and great story. Rachel, who is always so funny and so intelligent. Obviously too intelligent for America. Mary and Scott Wolford who are the best, really. My Dipped in Bronze writing group, the greatest and most prestigeous in the world! and...I'm afraid my friends with blogs are limited, so I recommend the following three: Toon Club, which is always fun to look at. and Imaginism Studios. And...well, that's it, I'm pretty pathetic, but I love you all!

post script, I am by no means an artist. I just like to look at all the cool art and wish I could draw.

There's a nun on the loose!

So I honked at someone today.
I really shouldn't have. I've never honked at someone before. I was in sort of a shock afterwords, and suddenly started being nice to all the drivers around me.
I'm an aggressive driver. I swerve around the slow cars that only go ten over the speed limit, and tailgate sometimes. I'm a good driver, but aggressive. I've never been in a accident, but I have been pulled over once.
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark in any case. I had just finished a long and tiring rehearsal of Suor Angelica and I think it was in the wee hours of the morning when they finally let us go. I was so tired and upset, I didn't even change out of my costume before leaving. Ah! the joys of a lax costume mistress. I played a nun. Everyone in the opera was a nun. I had my wimple and my rosary beads and my habit. I was decked out. And driving carelessly.
I was on the home stretch. Just one more length of road and I was home! And then I saw it. Flashing lights. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized that my day was about to get worse. I pulled over and waited as he did whatever it is cops do just to make you nervous. I think I even absent-mindedly played with my rosary beads as I waited, and it wasn't until the police car door opened that I realized I was still dressed as a nun. I remember watching him walk up to my car, and thinking
"He wouldn't dare give a nun a ticket!"
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
"er..." He started.
"Was I going too fast?" I asked stoically.
"Er...a little. You forgot to make a complete stop on a red light while turning right."
I entertained the idea of swearing, which, while out of character for me, was really out of character for the nun. Instead, I thought that this must be a really slow night for him, fixed him with my most nunish look and said,
"oops."
He then proceeded to go about his cop duities, asking for my licence and such, and finally as he bid me a good night, I looked right into his eyes, did the sign of the cross and murmured,
"Bless you, my child."
I then rolled up my window and drove off.
When I got home, I didn't tell anyone. I was too distraught over having gotten a ticket. But now I think it's funny. I don't know why I didn't just giggle and explain why I was dressed that way. I should have. I guess something inside of me couldn't pass up the opprotunity. And now that nice officer has a story to tell his buddies on the force over dounuts.
Let it never be said that I was never spoken of in hushed, reverent tones.
I hope that officer fears for his immortal soul.

I am smrt!

So I think I must just have a stupid face.
About two years ago, My sister and I went into an RC Willey to look at Mp3 players. There were salesmen everywhere. I'm not a huge fan of salesmen. I'm kinda a sucker, and they always convince me to buy whatever useless item their selling.
"It toasts bread, scrambles eggs, and ties your shoes for you in the morning. As long as you get up between the hours of 3 and 5. Sunlight bothers it, you see. But it comes with a free sticker!"
"WOW! I'll get it!"
I still have the free sticker.
Anyway, while we were in RC Willey, a kindly old gentleman approached us and asked, very kindly, if he could help.
"I'm looking for an Mp3 player or, you know, some sort of music playing device." I giggled, somewhat nervous talking to a salesman, lest he pull out the garlic press/potato peeler they had been trying to get off the shelves for weeks because some smart guy remembered that they don't sell kitchen utensils. He smiled amiably and bent down to see me eye to eye.
"Well now, device is a big word, isn't it?"
...
I stood there for a minute before my brain jumped at the chance.
"No, patronizing is a big word."
I was so proud of myself for being clever. Not that the line was original, it was a Terry Pratchett line from Wee Free Men. But I had used it right. And I didn't even offend the old man, he just sort of gave a kind smile and led me to the devices of which I had inquired.
I had forgotten about that particular incident until today.
We had a meeting at work where they gathered us all, sat us down and told us very sternly the dangers of the new pandemic swine flu. Swine flu sounds like it should be a musical. Anyway, they demonstrated three times, three times! how to apply hand sanitizer because 'it's very important to make sure that our hands are clean.' no kidding.
My friends and I made jokes throughout the rest of the day, stopping at every sanitizer post they had placed at every door, and looking at it stupidly saying
"Gee, I wonder how we use this?"
They weren't particularly funny jokes, but they had to be made. Kinda like the witty 'What's up?' antidote of "That way!"
I guess I just dislike being talked down to.

Write-a-thon

So last night, my sisters, my writing group and I had a write-a-thon. we were supposed to stay up until 2 in the morning writing brilliant and creative things. The writing group had to leave at 10, and things went downhill from then. it was around 11:30, when I started propping my eyelids open with toothpicks (and by the way, that hurts! don't believe what you see in cartoons.) That my sisters went to bed.
And me too.
I'm ashamed to admit it. I woke up with a headache and a toothpick splinter in my eye. It was fun though. I might have stayed up the whole night if the writing group had stayed, but as it was, my shoddy self discipline put me to shame.
Maybe I'll do it again. Maybe every hour I'll report back here and give an update. That'd be good. It'll be a seiries of posts.
okay
I can do that
until 2.
In the morning.
the eary early morning...
When farmers get up to let the cows out.
When birds start looking for their breakfasts.
When my Mother starts to excersize.
When UFO's are most prominant.
and now...When Sarah takes the toothpicks from her eyes and slumps over her finished chapter.

Darn Tigers!

I love Tigers. They've always been my favorite animal. Probably because everything in the universe was pushing me toward Lions. Oh, you're a Leo! That's a Lion thing! Oh, Your elementary school were the Lions! That's a Lion thing! Oh, you were born in August! That's a Lion thing! Oh! You're name is Sarah! I'll bet that's a Lion thing too! Lion Lion Lion!!!!
During all of this, there was that quiet yet deadly tigress in the corner who, because the noise level had reached above it's tolerance for cleaning it's paws, looks up at all of the lions circling me and non nonchalantly purrs,
"Leave the kid alone."
After which the lions run with their tails between their legs. Oh yeah! I hero-worship the tiger. I always imagine that if I came face to face with one, it would end up like the Jungle Book, (live action) where they would accept me as one of their own and teach me all of their tiger secrets. I'd grow stripes too, because...that's really cool. Although if I really came face to face with one, I probably have to leave my face behind.
I even remember reading about Lions and Tigers and finding something that said: If a Lion and a Tiger were to fight, the Tiger would probably win. HA! Take that!
Anyway, my whole point starts like this:
I drink tea. Herbal tea, and no, it's not as bad as you may think. Fruit tea is actually pretty good, and I have this apple cinnamon that tastes like cider. Call me old fashioned, but it also gives me an excuse to speak in a British accent and give impossibly long monologues on nothing at all, and I never pass up a chance to do that.
Anyway, I found this herbal tea that had a big tiger on the front of the package. So I picked it up and read on the back that with every package bought, the company gave a donation to the preservation of tigers.
Immediately, I imagined what the world will be like in ten years, overrun with animals, dying for revenge on the humans. I would be surrounded by wild animals, and I'd pull out the well worn package as proof that I had tried to help them. Then the Tigress would look at me and tell all the others
"Leave the kid alone."
I nearly dropped the box. That would be sooooooo coooool. I mean, besides all of the dying going on in the background.
Needless to say, I bought the tea. I went home. I made the tea. I let it seep. I took a sip.
It is so so gross.
I say this very hesitantly, as I might offend my tigress protector.
It tastes like bamboo with lots of sugar. And dirty socks
I'm still drinking it, though. I just took another sip. Yeah, it's still pretty nasty.
I will probably still drink the entire box, because I love Tigers, but I'm starting to have second thoughts. I mean, I've never tasted any lion flavored tea, who knows?
It's not the tigers fault, I know that.

It'll all be worth it when the animals take over.

My shoes are falling apart

So, today, I canceled My Gym membership. I called them up and told them they could find another perky overweight socially inept potential sucker, I'm through!
I'm taking the break up rather well.
I spent two hours on the phone trying to get some information. I finally did, after calling the machine several inappropriate names and leaving six messages.
And my shoes are falling apart.
But today has been a great day!
I guess I should yell at answering machines more often.

My Family. Aren't they cute? part 1

So my nephew, Christopher, recently won a contest and he got to meet Brandon Mull. Kudos to him, he's one of his favorite authors. He described his story as 'unique'. I think it's really great for a nine year old. here it is:
One day, a curious boy was snooping around a private lab. After two and a half hours he stumbled across some unique gadget. On it there was a sign that ordered: Don’t touch the red button! But instead of obeying it, he did just the opposite. After he pushed the button, lights flashed, lighting bolts struck, and something buzzed. And then, everything went black.


When he woke up, he found himself in the hospital. Ten days later, he was released. When he got home, he saw the house was empty. Strange, he thought. Then, his eye caught something. It was a note and it said: Edward, we have been murdered. Love, your family.

Now, you’re probably concerned about what that gadget did, right? Well, one who pushes the button, is given a burden of misery, misfortune, and the entire thing that happened in Lemony Snicket’s Series of unfortunate events. And so, let us return to our story, which will have a 99.99% chance of misfortune. And so I will give you a warning, to read, or not to read. That is the question (See Hamlet, by Shakespeare).

And before you could sing the entire song of “Yankee Doodle,” something unusual happened. A flood of root beer came pushing its way to poor little Edward. He screamed, but nobody heard him. As the flood raged through town, the mayor tried to solve the problem and took immediate action. As the flood raged through town people put up sand bags to avoid the rest of the city getting flooded. And then, at 3:30 the flood was stopped. As a celebration, the had a swimming in root beer contest topped with a root beer drinking contest. Unfortunately, little Edward was not invited.

Little Edward, now homeless and an orphan, wandered near the pond. Thinking what he should do, he stumbled over a dead tree. Then Edward got a fabulous idea. So using his Swiss army knife, he slowly hollowed out the tree. And after 17 days, he officially called it home.

And so after so many days of misery, Edward found happiness, joy, peace, faith, and well, just love at his new homemade home. After a couple of days, Edward found a pet, which was a duck. And that cured his lonesomeness.

Well, I guess that I didn’t put as much of misfortune as I thought. I surely hope this story wins because of two reasons: 1. I wish that I could meet Brandon Mull in person. 2. My family just loves Mr. Mull’s books. Any way I am running out of words, so farewell whoever is reading this. Farewell…. Farewell….

( P. S., the number of words are 455. )

Pretty great, huh? I loved the part where he finds the note 'Edward, we have been murdered, love your family.'
Christopher is so smart and creative. I just love him!

Strange feeling of satisfaction

Sooo... I shouldn't feel happy about this, but I kinda do.
Back story:
About a year ago, I was in a play labeled, The Sound of Music. Maybe you've heard of it. I played a nun. fairly popular part. We had seven Von Trapp children, a Von Trapp father, one governess, one baroness, one friend, three germans, and twenty seven nuns. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, we could have a nun football team if we wanted. ...what a disturbing thought...Anyway, This didn't hurt my pride. I have been in the chorus several times. But I could sing. I know I can sing.
Dear reader the truth is, I'm somewhat proud of the fact that I can keep pitch better than most. It's the only thing I can do.
Anyway, I would have liked one of the fussy nuns at the beginning. Maybe the one who said 'A Clown!' I could do that like nobody's business. Anyway, when it came to picking the fussy nuns, the director had all twenty seven of us stand up and the said, 'you, you, you and you. the rest of you sit down.' and that was it. I didn't have a chance. I could've had that clown nun! but nazi director only wanted blond hair and blue eyes! two of them couldn't sing. I don't say this to gratify myself, no. One of them she had sing the part over and over again until finally she said, 'okay, just say it to the rhythm' and she couldn't even do that. Things just went downhill from there. She accredited all the really low singing I did to the person next to me, who wasn't even singing the same part. She talked for hours on the things we could and couldn't do, including chew gum, tie our shoes, and laugh. And then, to top it all, she had a fourteen hour rehearsal. FOURTEEN HOURS!!!!!!! There were children in the cast. If we wanted food, we had to call someone, drag them from what they were doing, and have them bring it to us to eat in the lobby. And if we missed a cue, heaven help us.
Needless to say, I quit. I told her I had a better offer, which wasn't true, and I left.
Two days after, a friend from the cast told me the part I sang fell apart, and that no one could do the choreography right, because they all followed me. I felt good. And then I felt better because the theatre, thinking I was never coming back apologized to me for the director. Apparently they had to do that a lot.
My point? (sorry I took so long to get to it, I sort of get carried away when I vent)
This director is now in jail. They sent me an e-mail telling me she needs bail. (not just me, but everyone she's ever worked with) hah! good luck with that. I kinda want the mug shot so I can hand it on my refrigerator.
Am I mean? Cruel? Thoughtless? Maybe. But it's all worth it with the laugh I gave when I heard the news.
How do you solve a problem like this director?
I promise my next blog will be less angry.

To the Gym!!!

I signed up for the gym today. A real nice two year gym membership. It cost a lot. A lot a lot. I don't know why I chose the most expensive plan. Probably because I'm an idiot. They guy who signed me up was probably twenty five and had the cutest brown eyes. I just sort of looked at those eyes and agreed to whatever he said. They probably saw me coming.
"Hey Joe, this one looks like one of the socially inept ones. Go get Caleb."
"But Caleb just got his foot stuck on the weight machine."
"Well, go pry him out, This one's just waiting to be hooked."
Then I come up.
"Hi! I'm a perky overweight socially inept potential sucker."
"Hi, I'm Caleb" *handsome grin*
*jaw drop*
"I'm going to need you to sign here. And here. And here."
"Sure!"
"Good. If you run out of money, I'm sure you can sell your hair, and be sure to let us know when your first born arrives, okay? okay."
I'd better get really skinny!

Speaking of idiots, I found out that an idiot is scientifically someone whose IQ is between 25 and 0. So I'm pretty much an idiot.

Of meatballs and steampunk

So I made meatballs today.
They were slightly burnt and tasteless.
My sisters are so sweet. They looked at the meatballs, looked at each other, and then said "Oh Sarah, these look so good!" Then they proceeded to eat them. Not gagging or anything, because they weren't that bad, but taking three each and eating them with great gusto, then after dinner, looking at them, looking at each other, and saying "That was really great Sarah, you're the best!" before retreating to their rooms to scrape their tongues off.
I have the best sisters.
I don't consider the meal a waste, however because as I was taking the last batch off of the stove and putting it into a container to save where it will rot in the fridge until I turn it up in three months, covered in mold, I happened to pop one burning hot morsel into my mouth.
Yeah, I'm smart like that.
Anyway, as I exhaled in the gush of pain I was feeling, I noticed that steam was coming out of my mouth. Pain forgotten, I exhaled again. More steam. So I became giddy. I giggled, and the steam came out in little puffs, which made me giggle some more, but by now the meatball had cooled off and I found only my invisible breath. lame. Either way, I'm glad that I was a steam exhaling genius for five seconds of my life.
Which brings me to Steampunk. For those out there who don't know what steampunk is, It is a genre of fantasy. A sort of victorian-edwardian-industrial revolutionary period fantasy. With lots of cogs and gears and flying airships and gadgetry. I love it. Partially because flying airships mean flying pirates. Treasure planet is Steampunk, as is Stardust, Howls Moving Castle, and Series of Unfortunate Events. All of which are pretty good.
I plan to write a book in steampunk. Well, sort of. It is an epic, partially in steampunk england, partially in revolutionary france, and partially in storybook germany. No gentle readers, it is not a time travel saga. It is simply the control the magic holds over the certain lands. I hope that it won't be too different. Here's hoping!

Blog!

I have a blog! yay! I often wished I had a blog to just...blog on, and now I do. I have several things I'd like to say, but I'm going to have to be careful, because everyone I know will likely be shocked by the content. Truth is, I have a secret life. Hidden from everyone. Yes, even from you. Yes, you! Truth is, I'm a secret agent working for the CIA using my mind powers to control things. And now that I've told you, I'm going to have to kill you. dang. I liked you too. of course, if you don't read this, then there will be no reason to. So if you don't read this, make sure you leave a comment and tell me, so I know not to come to your bed with a six inch dagger.
Hope you enjoy the blog!