NSFW

None Such Fawn War.

or Not Safe Work this is.
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1756809

If you haven't checked out any of the Michael Showalter Showalter on collegehumor.com yet, you should. This is the latest and I find it to be the hilariest. Also, here are some gifts and purchase I made recently.

So my mother and father brought me these items: A hammer, because I love to hammer away, happy as an old hammer dog; a tape measurerurer;green rope, enough to hang myself with; a puzzle of a castle built by a madman obsessed with swans; wood screws; nuts and bolts; 2 screwdrivers, one pink and one baby blue; two picture frames and wall mount thingies; and not pictured, the large print version of Doomsday (my dad bought it for me after I explained the plot to him (see post from a couple weeks ago)), a book about A Chorus Line and the soundtrack to go with it, and this book that I bought my mom for Christmas called The History of Love. I then made these purchases over the weekend: Green Shoes; American flag turtle t-shirt; Foxy Brown t-shirt; Blue Shirt; Stripey shirt; weird bowling shirt(not pictured here). All in all, a good weekend for consumerism and the realization of the American Dream.

Stage Door Canteen with Ray Bolger

Ray Bolger! Who? Ray Bolger!

Dr. Schmoctor, paging Dr. Schmoctor.

This Doctor just called me, I swear to got, and asked me if Mr. So and So up on the third floor has had his "tummy films" done yet. Tummy films.

New Yucks

My parents don't believe in naming children before they are born. With my brother and sister and I they wanted to wait to see what we looked like before they gave us names so that they could give us something appropriate. I was born with a full beard, wearing slacks and suspenders so when my mom asked my dad what name I looked like he said, "A man, duh."

My sister's name is beautiful blue-eyed super-race and my brother's is fetal alcohol syndromeo.

One of our deepest darkest family secrets is that I had a baby brother but he died mysteriously just a few days after he was born. His name was Half-Black Milkman.

Mandates and Imperatives

Hey there. You there! You with the stars in your eyes. You should rent Half Nelson. Ryan Gosling called me up last night and asked me to marry him but I had to say no because he is Canadian and is probably only after me for my citizen status.

From the AP

Porn Slipped Into Wash. Time Capsule
Friday, April 27, 2007

Bondage File
Read more weird news in the Bondage File.
sfgate_get_fprefs();
(04-27) 14:11 PDT Seattle (AP) --
There were a few surprises for the University of Washington's Class of 1957 when they opened a time capsule sealed 50 years ago.
Among audiotapes and copies of the yearbook and school newspaper were 1980s-era porn, a condom and some dirty underwear.
Alumni opened the capsule earlier this week in preparation for a public unveiling Saturday during a celebration of the 50th anniversary of the university's communications program. The capsule had been placed in an interior wall of the then-new Communications Building in 1957.
The capsule is being replaced by another created by a student-faculty team.
"The good news is that all the things that were in there are still there," said Jerry Baldasty, chairman of the Department of Communication. "The interesting news is that some other things were added."
There aren't any suspects in the case. But it was located outside the offices of The Daily — the campus newspaper — and it's assumed someone from the paper was responsible for the revisionism, said communication alumni and development manager Victoria Sprang.
The new capsule will be filled with digital media with a focus on "communication from a global perspective," said Coma Te, a senior among six students who created the new capsule.

This gave me a funny idea for a routine I can work into my stand up jokes set. I would call it, "Future Jokes" and I would describe a series of scenarios that would be funny only in the future. I haven't thought of any yet but I'm sure to.

Betty Frockin' Crocker.

I've uploaded a bunch of pictures to my flickr page but here are three of my new apartment.

This is my slightly askew "living room."This is where the magic happens. I still need a bed frame. I am rocking the old box springs on the floor look, which is great if you can pull it off. And I think I have.

And this is the beautiful and spacious kitchen. Again, there are more on my flickr page, which there is a link to on your left. Your other left, dipshit.

I have had the busiest day ever! First, hold on to your hats, I had Spanish Class! That was fun. After Spanish class I went home and listened to the great song Steve and Marigold made for me. Email me or post a comment if you want to listen to it because I can't figure out how to put sound clips up on this thing. I can email it to you! Then I made some awesome songs of my own, and ditto for those if you want to hear them. I can email them to you! I made one for Marigold and Steve, one for Andy Rydzewski, one very special one just for Marigold which was a duet between herself and myself and is so full of Christ's love you'll burst, and then some other stuff that was mostly for my ears only.

Then I went to my other classes and to my grandmother's house and then I went birthday present shopping for my mother whose birthday it is tomorrow. I didn't get anything really great for her so I decided I would bake her a brownie cake thing. Which I did. But that is another story.

Oh, wait, that is this story! So I don't know if you realize this, but I am a single gal living la vida sola in the most awesome ways. One awesome way that single girls live is by becoming fascinated by cooking and eating and food and dieting and calories. For instance, did you know that a serving of asparagus, which is about 1/2 of a cup according to my little book, is only 20 calories???? 20 Calories! Asparagus is my 2nd favorite vegetable, second only to Artichokes. (Which, by the way, are also very low in calories.) So I went out and bought myself a bunch of asparagus (and two artichokes but I already ate those last week) and I made this lovely dish tonight.

You're probably saying, "That's not so spectacular." No, it isn't. But I'm not a big cooker and this is like the greatest thing ever. This is about 2 cups of asparagus which is about 80 calories. I put a couple of table spoons of light cream cheese on it and salt and pepper which brings it up to about 180 calories. And I was so full afterwards!

In addition to this culinary feat, I also made this:

For my mother, for her birthday. Those things on the top are birthday candles. She is turning 10 years old, as you can see by the number of birthday candles. The candles do not have boobs on them. That is an unfortunate resemblance that shows up mostly in this picture. Those are pink cupcakes with cherries on them. Okay, they are boobs. You caught me.

Before you starting thinking I am some kind of Martha Stewart, as I'm sure you are, I also made this:

This was the rest of the brownie mix. You see, I only have a small convection oven which I had never used before so I wasn't really sure how it was going to work. Turns out, it words great for smaller things like heart shaped brownies. Larger things, like 7.5 inch by 7.5 inch brownie pans, not so much. My original idea was to have this on the bottom and then the heart one on the top and then put icing all over both, which would be the icing on the cake. Only it is brownies, not cake. You would think I would hide this picture with shame and throw this thing away but I am totally bringing it tomorrow when I meet my mom because this way when my nephew and grandma are jealous of my mom's brownie I can pull this out and say, "See? Now everyone gets some!" and they won't make fun of it because it is this or nothing. Also, I wanted to show off the plate that it is on because you might be able to make out the year 1983 and the name Amanda on the bottom. This is because I made this plate, well, I drew on this plate in 1983. You can't see the beautiful rainbow underneath but you can imagine it. All I drew was rainbows for about 10 years straight. I think those red squiggly lines on the sides are supposed to be birds. Either that or I wanted to go to McDonald's.

Finally Died, and Notes on becoming an Alcoholic OR: Notes on: Lloyd Braun

I wrote this yesterday morning in my car in the parking lot at school before a parking copper got the best of me and scared me away with his little orange book of tickets:

I finally died... my hair. What'd you think? That someone finally died? You fool. You damn fool. I had been letting it go gray for fun and then I realized that my idea of fun was really stupid. Lets just say that I began to feel really old. You know you are getting old when people are no longer surprised at how much gray you have in your hair. They barely mention it...

Then I wrote this late last night. I think it is pretty self explanatory:

You know when you've drank a little bit and things are so fucking profound! They are profoundly funny or profoundly sad and not much in between. You know what I'm talkin' bout. Talkin' bout Down Town! Talkin' Bout levitation. Talkin' Bout Zanita what's her name that my sister used to run with that she said sort of smelled and was weird and claimed to be able to levitate. I wonder what ever happened to her? Probably the most genuinely interesting person my sister has ever known and to think it all happened on mulburry street. Mulberry? Tuney will know and will most likely correct me so I will preemtively say thank you, tuney, and I will tip my hat, so to speak, at her knowledge of Seusisms. Really, the only reason I think she even had children was to brush up on her her Seusisms. And her children are thankless. Oh how like a serpents tooth it is. See? I don't need to have kids. Shakespeare told me what its like already and I totally believe him because that guy Bloom or whoever the guy is who loves Shakespeare so much said that Shakespeare wrote the book on what we are like. We humans.

Lloyd Braun. That's why I started writing this. Seinfeld. In case you weren't sure or in case it was on the tip of your tongue. Anywho, speaking of drinking a glass of whine or two (not three, yet) on a Sunday night and wondering if I'll ever truly know who any of the commentors on Mick Lasalle's blog REALLY are, like really, you know REALLY, and these thoughts start running through my head. First of all, Seinfeld, on wine, is Profoundly Funny. Capitalized for emphasis. Like Civil Rights, which I didn't know should be capitalized until recently when I didn't capitalize it in a brilliant paper I wrote and this error was corrected.

LLoyd Braun. The names used in Seinfeld alone are profoundly funny. And I was going to say some other stuff about Michael Richards and how he lives in a different world then we do and so can not truly be held accountable for his rantings, and that I believe this because I have known, personally, intimately, people like that who just don't live where we live.
I am loath to go back and read what I've written since I'm afraid that I'll start to edit and there is NOTHING worse than drunken editing. Can you even imagine? I wonder, at times, if drunken writers simply write drunk and edit sober or if they ever write sober and edit drunk. Now that I think about it, perhaps the latter would be the better. What do you think? I have class at nine a.to the m. tomorrow morning and it is 12 to the 16 am right now. Oh yeah! Now I remember. Lloyd Braun. That's why I was even writing this. Jerry got some Chinese gum from LLoyd Braun and I totally remembered, I had a sensory memory of, Chinese rice gum. Has anyone ever had this? I think I had in San Francisco when I went there the summer after 7th grade with my two best friends Erin and Leah. I can taste it right now... What I would like you to do is give me some other iconoclastic, that isn't the right word, memorable Seinfeld names. Like... Deloris. Whenever I hear the name Deloris I think, "Rhymes with Clitoris." And then I think "Mulva." And then I think of Sheila and the million times she liked to lecture people on the difference between the vulva and the vagina and that when most people talked about the vagina what they were really referring to was the vulva. I mean, like, constantly she would lecture people about this. She was like the soup nazi, only in regards to female genitalia. Oh Sheila. You came and you brought me a turkey. On my vacation from workey.

Which reminds me. I left several crazy, yet sober, messages to friends and foes alike this morning using Google Talk. Talk about a revolution! Talkin' bout Down Town! Google talk is a marvel for a person like me who makes verboseness into an art form the likes of which have not been seen since (famous talker/orator person fill-in the blank here). The only person I could think of was Ken Nordeen because of the Spoken Word albums my dad had when I was a kid. Marya, do you know that 90% of what I write is only understood by you like when we play pictionary or taboo? Do you know that? Seriously? Because you remember everything I remember. Even the stuff that you weren't privy to, you can kind of figure out. I am drunk right now, so don't hold this against me later, but I really appreciate having a sister who knows everything I know especially after living with a brother for 3 years who seems to know very little about what I know. I am physically having to restrain myself from deleting that last part because mushyness makes me physically ill.

Lloyd Braun.... Dammit... I think I missed the rest of the episode! The one before this was the sponge-worthy one. That was pretty freakin' funny. Am I spelling Braun correctly? Maybe it is brawn? I doubt it. We aren't talking about paper towels here. Delete! Backspace!!! Oh if you only knew. I wrote recently in my creative writing class that I believe the backspace key is the physical manifestation of internalized societal censorship. I do believe this. I get genuinely upset when I use it for anything other than correcting spelling or grammar mistakes. Am I alone in this? Also, I wish I had more comments. I know. That's really lame to say, but have I mentioned lately that I am nearly done with my second glass of wine? Quite nearly. I think I might get a third.... thrid. Thrididiidifid. You'll know us by the trail of the dea.... you'll know if I'm on my third glass of whine if I start making Freudian slips replacing wine with whine. Ha!!! You'll know us by the trail of our dead or whatever that band's name is is a really cool name of a bland. band. Bland... another Freudian slip? Can one type freudian slips? If so, even more evidence that the backspace key is the physical manifestation of internalized societal censorship and another reason why google talk is so great. I can't backspace what I say out loud!!! You know what I'm saying? Oh God! Okay, so I had told myself a while back that I wanted to have at least or no more than one drunk blog post a month. I figured this way I could avoid alcoholism and yet take advantage of verboseness. Bad idea.


I will reiterate... Bad idea.

Strange Times At SOU

The newspaper that my brother is an editor for broke this crazy story about a fellow student of mine. I'll link to the various articles but I'll give you the short version in case you are lazy. It totally reminds me of the movie Election. This student was running for Student Body President and on Thursday the school held a vigil for the victims of the Virginia Tech badness. She got up and apparently gave a very teary speech about how her cousin was one of the victims. Turns out, after the paper did some fact checking, that her cousin wasn't a victim. First she gave one name and then said that her cousin had to change it because she was in the Federal Witness Protection Program, which, to me, screams that she was lying. Then, she gave the name that her cousin is now using which was actually a name of one of the victims but still, was not her cousin. Here is the latest story that covers pretty much everything I just said:

http://www.dailytidings.com/2007/0421/stories/0421_confess.php

Here is another that pretty much says the same thing but is by a different writer:

http://www.dailytidings.com/2007/0421/stories/0421_confess_side.php

and here is the editorial about the whole thing that I think my brother might have written. I'm not sure about that though. It might have been his boss.

http://www.dailytidings.com/2007/0421/stories/0421_edit_freeman.php

Weird, wild stuff.

Happy Birthday Adolf Lu Hitler R. Marak

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adolf_Lu_Hitler_Marak

This might be the weirdest thing I've learned in a while. In the interest of noting that today is 4/20 without sounding like a stoner or a fan of Hitler I went on wikipedia to find out what else 4/20 is famous for. I found the previous link. Click on it. Do.

P.S. I am burnt out. I am tired. I am feeling overwhelmed. Last night I had a dream within a dream that were all full of anxiety themes but I can't remember exactly what they were about except that I told my mom and dad that "It's okay that dream I was having was just a stress dream but this dream isn't." And then some more stressful things happened.

Notes On: Columbine II:The Wrath of Cho

For those of you who feel so inclined, I got this link from Frank who I have now mentioned 2 days in a row. If I wasn't gay you'd think I was in love with him. Strike that, reverse it. If he wasn't gay you'd think I was in love with me. Yes, that's better. This is the guy's play. It is only 10 pages long and they are very short pages. Do you think my creative writing teacher would think it was funny if I turned this in for my next assignment?

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0417071vtech1.html

My next assignment is to write this cheesy "I remember" thing. We have to write 20 "I remembers" which means like, "I remember when cheese was cheese and men were men and never the twain would meat." I just made that one up. But they are just supposed to be like one liner type of deals without a whole lot of self reflection tacked on to it. I think I'll just write them right now and then I can always change them later.

1. I remember when this crazy guy shot up this school in Virginia the other day.
2. I remember stilts.
3. I remember the sound of a skate board on the sidewalk suddenly going over a grate.
4. I remember the way Mr. Gioradino always smelled of pipe tobacco. I don't remember how to spell Gioradino.
5. I remember the constant shoulder and neck pain of the strongly peer suggested one strap back pack mandate.
6. I remember lots of parks
7. I remember when the pipes would freeze and electric heaters, electric blankets, and wood stoves.
8. I remember falling down the stairs before they were carpeted.
9. I remember giving the dog a bath.
10. I remember watching ants forever.
11. I remember leaf forts in anticipation of snow forts.
12. I remember the high dive.
13. I remember heads-up-seven-up.
14. I remember the multi-purpose room and the parachute games and The Farmer in the Dell.
15. I remember taco salad on Cinco de Mayo.
16. I remember cribbage tournaments.
17. I remember the science fair.
18. I remember lots of sunburns.
19. I remember the pile of Hamm's beer cans in the neighbor's yard and the sound of the crack of the can against the big red plastic bat in a game of Hamm's beer can baseball.
20. I remember waking up in the middle of the night with Box-Elder bugs crawling on my face in the summer.

Salon

So Frank (aka avantard) always links to these great salon articles on his blog so of course now I have to read it all the time. I get an email that tells me whats in it and time after time the main thing that I read are these letters to their advice columnist Cary Tennis. I think this guy should win a freaking Pulitzer Prize in Advice Columnation. Columnistics. Every letter I've read has been very well written and thought provoking and interesting and poses some kind of truly different and difficult problem. And then this Tennis guy replies with this very long well thought out responses. I don't always agree with them, like this one he wrote back to this 21 guy who wants to buy a gun and has thought of every reason under the sun as to why he shouldn't and why he wants to and has really given it some very serious thought, weighing his personal fascination with the history of weapons with his liberal leanings. At the end of his letter I thought to myself, gosh, this is the only person on earth who should own a gun. He weighs every possible good and bad outcome with such conscientiousness I was convinced that gun in his hands could do no wrong. Tennis said, after a lot of good reasoning, that he shouldn't buy a gun and pretty much convinced me. But these letters! Man! These are real existential problems! Here is a link to the latest. I don't know if it will work.

http://www.salon.com/mwt/col/tenn/2007/04/18/new_yorker/?source=newsletter

Backfired, Bone Tired, Back Beat, The Word is on the Street.

You might say that this dog is the biggest dog in the world because he is over 7 feet tall:

I think this dog might be

click --> http://urbanlegends.about.com/library/n_hercules_worlds_biggest_dog.htm

Actually, it turns out, that picture was a hoax. A hoax that is a few years old, I guess, but it has been passed on to me from some people at work. Still, the real dog in the picture above is pretty freakin' big! And I bet the fake photoshop dog is still very large.

Speaking of big dogs, about a month ago a white man in a black mask jumped out of the bushes and tried to attack me while I was walking to the parking garage where I work. Being a quick thinker, I said, "Don't rape me, I have a penis. I'm a chick with a dick." That stopped him in his tracks long enough for me to kick him in the gonadial region and steal his wallet. What a dope! I obviously have a vagina! I used his credit cards to buy a boat and lots of electronic equipment. I also stole his identity to get a home loan. Turns out he had way better credit than me. The only downside is that I made a complaint against him and now I have to register as a sex offender.

My google setting theme is Tea House like in The Tea House of the August Moon. Which was a play and I guess a movie too.

What is your google theme? If you don't have one yet, you might as well give up on everything.

I saw the opening night of my Dad's Hit Musical, The State of Jefferson! this last Friday, the 13th. OOOOOOOhhhh. Nothing unlucky happened to me unless you count having to talk to a million people who don't remember me and keep calling me Marya. "Oh, you're the youngest." Yes. I am the youngest. Whatshername. The child that time forgot.

Seeing this show brought back all sorts of memories of the summer that they did it last. It was the summer I turned 13 and my sister was in the show so she must have been 19? Almost 20. It was the best summer ever. All my friends were gone. Dead Leah was at her Dad's for the summer in Fresno, Erin was at ballet school or something. Jeff was at his Dad's for the summer. All my energy and time was spent either with on the phone with one of these three people so when they were all gone I found myself with an incredible amount of free time. I was doing a show myself that summer, Charlotte's Web, so I had some contact with friends and other kids and social interactions but mainly I read and listened to music and wrote letters. I read Anne McCaffrey's Harper Hall Trilogy and listened to a lot of Enya and Indigo Girls. Now whenever I hear Enya I automatically think of dragons. Marya must have been working on the train that summer. I think that was the summer that Myles went to Majuro because that was also the summer, near the end, that I started playing soccer and he was my coach. Maybe we were all at home that summer. That would be weird. I have few memories of my brother and sister and I all living in the same house since most of that time was when I was 6 and under. Anyway, that was my best summer. I still have all the letters I got from my friends who were gone. They are so retarded.

No Fucking Cat, No Fucking Cradle

This picture of an asshole made me laugh the first time I saw it. Or read it, or whatever. It still makes me laugh. Maybe its because most books you read when you are a kid and preteen don't really ever make you laugh. Maybe that's why Vonnegut was so beloved by teenagers and young people in general. Sometimes people ask me who my favorite author is and I think, "Vonnegut." But I always say something else. I always feel so sort of bad but like I should have a more serious answer. Like when Steve said one time that he isn't as much into They Might Be Giants because the people who are really into them are annoying. That's sort of how I feel about Vonnegut. He is great, the people who are super super into him are kind of annoying. I never wanted to be one of those people but I enjoy meeting other secret Vonnegut fans and talking to them. I think Cat's Cradle is my favorite.

Easter egg hunt in Ashland

I have so much to say

First of all, watch this video of my questionably racist nephew being interviewed by one of the guys who my brother works with. Who happens to be black.

Second of all, Sonofabastard commented that I should check out this Christopher Buckley Book Doomsday. So I did. Son of a Bastard! Christopher Buckley totally stole my idea!

A week or two back I wrote this somewhat facetious diatribe aimed toward the stupid boomers on Mick LaSalle's blog:

Oh jesus christ, here come the boomers and their self obsessive love for their own generation. Why, I was just telling my grandmother this afternoon that all boomers, those born between 1946 and 1964, should be euthanized when they turn 65 to ensure the future of Truth, Justice, The American Way. Oh, and stop buying so much crap, boomers! No one will feel sorry for you when you have not saved for your retirement and no longer have social security but bought brand new cars constantly throughout your 30's 40's 50's and beyond. And stop eating! You won't pay for my insulin but I'm going to have to pay for your heart disease medication and your five way bypasses! Son of a Bitch! I can't stand you all. Tell Oliver Stone to go crawl under a rock! Nobody's perfect indeed. You ruined this country!! My generation gave you the internet! What are you going to leave us? Credit Card debt and student loans for educations that in no way guarantee any kind of gainful employment!

Its true, I was telling my grandmother that and she and my uncle and both of my parents, who just barely miss the boomer starting date, all whole-heartedly agree with my assertion that they should all be killed when they turn 65. So here I am, a soon to be 29 year old blogger shooting off my mouth saying ridiculous things that I sort of actually believe and then stupid Christopher Buckley writes this book.

From Publishers Weekly[Signature] Reviewed by Jessica Cutler

It's the end of the world as we know it, especially if bloggers are setting the national agenda. In his latest novel, Buckley imagines a not-so-distant future when America teeters on the brink of economic disaster as the baby boomers start retiring. Buckley takes on such pressing (however boring) topics as Social Security reform and fiscal solvency, as does his protagonist. And get this: she's a blogger.Buckley's heroine is "a morally superior twenty-nine-year-old PR chick" who blogs at night about the impending Boomsday budget crisis. Of course, "she was young, she was pretty, she was blonde, she had something to say." She has a large, doting audience that eagerly awaits her every blog entry. And her name? Cassandra. And the name of her blog? Also Cassandra. Of course, Buckley doesn't let his allusion get by us:"She was a goddess of something," another character struggles to remember, which gives his heroine the opportunity to educate us about the significance of her namesake."Daughter of the king of Troy. She warned that the city would fall to the Greeks," she explains. "Cassandra is sort of a metaphor for catastrophe prediction. This is me. It's what I do." So Cassandra, doing what she does, starts by calling for "an economic Bastille Day" and her minions take to destroying golf courses in protest. Cassandra grabs headlines and magazine covers, and the president starts wringing his hands over what she might blog about next. Her follow-up: a radical but tantalizingly expedient solution to that most vexing of issues, the Social Security problem—Cassandra proposes that senior citizens kill themselves in exchange for tax breaks. Buckley, author of Thank You for Smoking, shows great imagination as he fires his pistol at the feet of his straw women and men. In 300-plus pages, though, it would be nice if he had found a way to endear us to at least one of his characters. Yes, we know that Washington is "an asshole-rich environment," as one puts it, but some Tom Wolfe–style self-loathing might be good for characters who use the word touché. Full disclosure: I'm a blogger of Cassandra's generation, and at times the totally over-the-top, relentlessly us-against-them scenario reminded me that I was reading a book written by someone not of the blogging generation, someone who Cassandra would want put down. Oh, the irony in these generationalist feelings. Then again, maybe that's exactly Buckley's point.

I think I'm going to sue. I just hope he doesn't sue me for actually being the embodiment of one of his characters.

Ether Bunnies, Ether Rabbits. Consumption be done?

Overheard by myself at the Big Lots on Friday:

Lady customer to cashier - "I'm just here to get pads (lifts up her feminine hygiene product for all to see) because I'm on my period. I'm bleeding. Yep."

Also, I read this blurb on the cover of a book called "Miss Misery."

"This is the Emo Fight Club."

What the fuck?

I took ever so many Easter pictures today. I'm going to stick them all up on Flickr later this evening so watch out for that. I forgot to take any pictures of my apartment though so I'll have to do that later. I am mostly all unpacked and organized except for my knick-knacks and bricka-bracks of which I have too many. Tooooo Toooo Many. I should get rid of some. They all have sentimental value though, you see.

Also, I saw that Beatrix Potter movie and I really liked it. It was very very very sickeningly sweet but it still made me cry like three times. I think I am becoming a lady because movies can make me cry so much easier than they used to. Also, I'm on my period. I'm bleeding. Yep. (Actually that is a lie.)

Bunnies are cute. Ewen McGregor is a perfect human being. Cute Bunnies + Ewen McGregor = Bestest Cutest Movie in the World. (I wish Bridget Jones hadn't made so many weird faces all the time though.)

Things I have been up to since my last post

Sunday - April Fool's Day!

Moved. I'll put some pictures up of my new place as soon as it is presentable and as soon as I find the batteries for my camera. Thanks to mumsy, popsy, brother, and nephew for helping me in this endeavor. It took us just under 6 hours to move everything I own some 10-15 miles south of where I was living. I think that's gotta be some kinda record, eh? I worked Sunday night and was so exhausted I could barely stand or think or do anything. Luckily, my job doesn't require any standing, thinking, or the doing of anything.

Monday-First day of the Spring Quarter!

Attended classes. I have Biology and Spanish on Mondays. I was done by 11am and walked ACCROSS THE STREET to my new apartment. Oh, and did I mention that I walked ACCROSS THE STREET to get to classes that morning and that I only had to leave like 10 minutes early and then I was still 5 minutes early for class? That's right. I continued to unpack and put stuff away and clean, etc, on Monday afternoon and then I went to work Monday night. I had a very long conversation with Steve and Marigold over the Google talk thing which is totally awesome and you should totally check it out. yeah. Steve and I had a lot of things to discuss and Marigold had to tell me some gross funny story about her dad and this guy with genital warts. Huck screamed bloody murder the entire time.

Tuesday-April 3rd

Attended classes again. This time it was Spanish and then a long break between classes where I went home and did some more unpacking. After that I went to my creative writing class which was sort of crazy. We got our first assignment which I had an insane amount of fun doing over the past couple of days. The teacher is freakish. Then I had my senior capstone class which only meets once a week. I have to do some kind of project. I used to know what I wanted to do but I think I changed my mind after going to the first class and finding out what some other people are doing. I think I was making it too hard and too time consuming. Tuesdays I don't have to work so I came home and ate dinner and watched American Idol and House and drank a glass of wine and unpacked and just had myself a gay old time.

Wednesday - April 4th

Attended classes. Biology and Spanish again and then my Bio Lab which sounds like it will be kind of easy this time. Not that it wasn't last time, but more so this time I think. Then I drove to Medford, visited with my mother and my abuelita and my nephew and Chachi Wachi at my brother's house. Then I went to work. Worky Work Work. As Steve and Marigold found out on Monday when I talked to them for so long while I was at work, I don't actually do a lot of work at work. We just kind of do busywork stuff and get our homework done and cover for each other's lunches and every once in while we have a little rush of people or phone calls and then its just more sitting around and chatting and looking at videos online and doing homework. I have such a great life.

Today

I went to Spanish and Creative writing today. The writing teacher was 10 minutes late and then he told us to go to the library, make a copy of something we like in a book or whatever, and then write about a page on why we like it. Then we had to leave and have it turned in by 3:50 today. I copied a page out of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?" and turned mine in at 3:00 and then went to work early. Now I'm here at work, typing this. There. Now you are all caught up.

Jokes I made up.

I heard that the surviving members of The Doors are getting the band back together again. I went to audition to be their new lead singer but I didn't make the band. They told me, "You'd actually make a better window."

I seems like a lot of dead rock stars, like Jim Morrison, died from choking on their own vomit. I don't know about you but when my mom would serve me up a big bowl of steaming hot vomit and I would start to gobble it down she would always say, "Don't eat so fast! You're going to choke!" Thats how I've lived this long, I guess. I chew my vomit the recommended 30 times before I swallow it.