Bullets Are Gonna Burn...

In which Shelley decides to actually follow a TV show...

2008-09-22T22:58:03Z

I’ll admit, I’m a little slow about getting on any wagons, band- or otherwise. The idea of a rickety structure [read: plot decided on by marketing strategists who only want to whore the show for as much as they can merchandise] covered in hay and distressed paint to make it look authentic to the delight of the masses isn’t my cup of tea. I’m used to getting into a show long after it’s been consigned to DVD and every iterate of its “special edition” has come out. I didn’t get into any Joss Whedon shows until they’d either run their lifespan (Buffy, Angel) or had been kicked off the air and made a movie for the die-hard fans and made a killing, so suck it Fox. (Firefly). By the time I signed on to Scrubs, I was too busy watching the series from the beginning to even hope to catch up to the new episodes coming out. Luckily, most of season seven sucked, so I didn’t miss much while I was missing much, if you get my meaning.

However, I am a subscriber to Entertainment Weekly and when I started seeing these viral campaigns for the new HBO series True Blood, I was reminded of the staggering success the new Batman movie The Dark Knight experienced after its huge underground viral marketing movement. (For a really fantastic showcase of a slice of that, go to http://www.superherohype.com/news/topnews.php?id=6470. True Blood started taking out advertisements in many major magazines for one of the show’s creations, a synthetic blood beverage called TruBlood. There was even a website or two about the “product”, even though they were lacking any sort of ordering process. Sorry goth kids, you’re just gonna have to keep making do with red wine and kool-aid.

HBO even put out political ads urging citizens to either support or oppose the “Vampire Rights Amendment”. I’m telling you though, it wasn’t until I saw these ads that I even knew a new show was coming out right under our noses. That’s the way to do it, if you ask me. Get people talking about stuff they don’t even know what they’re talking about.

I missed the premiere of the first episode and came in on number 2. Let me say, I was hooked from the opening credits. Jace Everett’s “Bad Things” and a truly stunning montage of Southern film clips along with some edgy erotic shots makes for one slick opening. And it just got better from there.

I’m not a fan of Twilight at all. I think it’s a bunch of overfluffed pre-teen angst and sexual frustration with weak writing and a campy plotline, and all you Meyersites can shove a dazzling stake right up your collective asses. For the vampophile who’s too damn old for Twilight but not bored enough for Anne Rice, step right up and meet your perfect match: finally, a writer who recognizes that the idea of a vampire has always had sexual connotations and he’s not afraid to let loose.

I like the writing for several reasons, but I think the best one is that it knows when to mock itself. When a scene is getting too cliché or campy, somebody says something like “Bill? Your name’s Bill? I thought it’d be Antoine or Langston or something like that. Bill?” or “I wish Buffy or Blade were here.” I like a show that pokes fun at its roots.

Also, Stephen Moyer is damn hot. Props to that makeup artist.

In which Shelley hilariously makes everyone hate her in 2.7 seconds flat...

2008-07-28T02:34:24Z

I went to see The Dark Knight at midnight on opening night. Don't worry, I won't spoil any of it for you.

So I went to Loew's, which had three theaters showing Batman (think about 800 people total). The theater was completely packed; ShowTunes and I were lucky to get seats next to each other. There were a pitiful amount of people dressed up - I'd heard that the wildest people came to Loews for the midnight showing, but there was only one Joker and a couple crappy Batmans. ShowTunes dressed in her finest fangirl gear, I just smeared Joker makeup across my face. I got a few congratulations for having the balls to do this and I immediately question the resolve of these fellow nerds. If these people were my people, they'd all be in full costume. I wash my hands of them.

Previews, previews, (apparently Watchmen looks like it's following the book pretty closely, which I hear is good). Thankfully there were only about ten minutes of previews as opposed to the FORTY-FIVE minutes that were in front of Spiderman 3, but nonetheless after the first two or three people started groaning and demanding the movie.

So the lights go down and title comes up. Now, backtrack about eight hours: I tell ShowTunes I planned on yelling something before the show starts. She bets me I won't. Call me out on being a loudmouth attention-whore? I think not.

Cue back to the present moment. Lights down, title up. I promptly yell out "HEATH LEDGER DIES AT THE END."

Now, what I meant was "Heath Ledger is dead". What they thought I meant was "Heath Ledger's character dies at the end", which would be spoiling the end of the most-anticipated comic book movie in three years.

I am promptly booed by the entire theater. One guy behind me says "Jesus, what a c***!" to some chuckles.

I have no idea what happened past that besides the movie - I was laughing too hard.

P.S. It kicked ass. Go see it now. I hear it rocks in IMAX.

In which Shelley goes to her first concert.

2008-04-20T04:19:41Z

"Real college week" = MADE OF WIN.

I've been so involved in the theater community here on campus that I feel as if I didn't get to enjoy the "college experience" that my parents demanded I live at school in order to get. (Neither of them lived at school, so they wanted to be sure I would.) Now that all my shows are over - Star Wars the Musical sucked the life out of me - I've been taking a nice time to walk around and smell the roses. Or stinky dogwood trees, as the TCNJ case may be.

But oh, what a wild, wild week. Gorgeously pristine weather, easy classes, finally got to a wild party on Friday night. Remember, I had three months' worth of no social life to make up for, and that's exactly what I did. Had to get up early Saturday to run security for my friends' anti-rape demonstration, then managed to crash for an hour or two before spending three hours editing film and then getting ready for the Concert.

I capitalize because it was epic. Let me explain:

I have never been to a concert before in the predominant meaning of the term. I've been to sit-downs, perfomance pieces and the like, but never an on-your-feet-for-three-hours, screaming, chanting event. I bought my Third Eye Blind ticket around a month ago, figuring it was a decent 90's band and would make for a good show even if I did have to sit and listen to them (Remember, I was under the delusion that this would be like the other mainstream concert TCNJ gave featuring Vanessa Carlton, which I did not attend.).

So I come back to my dorm and realize I've totally forgotten to secure any of my friends to go with. I'm texting people, calling people, and for some cosmic Murphy's Law payback for everything being awesome, not a one of my typical pals are attending. They all hate 3EB. Why do I talk to these people?

I'm mostly resolved to not go now. However, I hear from some guys that a group of my nerdfriends are going, so I give my friend Squishie a call and plan to meet up with her & co. there.

We get inside and wow, it's a stand-up mosh-pit event. To be honest, some other band opened for them and when it came clean that they were not in fact 3EB, most people (including yours truly) looked around in astonishment because in all honesty, not a one of us would have known a member of 3EB if they came up and bit us.

Once Third Eye got started, the proverbial excrement hit the ceiling fans. In the first hour, there were a couple of attempted crowd-surfings (none of these made it very far), some half-hearted moshings, etc. It was a slightly inebriated crowd. I spent most of this first hour terrified that one or more of these dropped surfers would land on their head, break their neck and die.

However, once they started finally playing Jumper, I look to Squishie (who's already surfed) and tell her "I wanna go up". Hell, it's my first concert, let's go for broke. We get these guys to lift me and Oh my god, I am riding a mass of humans who could drop me at any moment. I do the smart thing and assume the "Jesus position" (arms straight out and legs straight and together) because it's the most physically sound.

Somehow, all 5'11.5" of me travels over 2/3 of the crowd and I'm about to be thrown over the fence separating the crowd from the stage. The security guards are pulling people down and I'm terrified because I am going to be dropped on my spine. Suddenly a guard's arms appear out of nowhere and I cling to him for dear life as he brings me down.

The night was not without incident. Some idiot kid who was moshing got full-out socked in the face by this angry girl. This surfer got dropped on Squish and me - she took a kick to the mouth while I got on in the arm and eye. We recovered in time to enjoy the last high-energy number Semi-Charmed Life by jumping up and down like maniacs with our buddies.

All in all, I had a great night, all injuries included. I feel like I'm living all the great moments I was supposed to have all year by compacting them into one week's time, and I'm ok with that. Freshman year's almost over with anyway.

In which Shelley registers for classes...

2007-11-15T14:27:23Z

I'd liken the whole process to that of herding cattle. With no horse. Or whip. Or prod. And the cows are grumpy and slow and are just trying to be herded by someone smarter than you. And you're frustrated because some cows are yours, some are not, and the rest are useless.

The picture is a funny one; I'm currently camped out on a library computer for the next hour so I can be sure I actually have a workstation when my turn comes. There was a lovely fire alarm this morning that didn't quite wake me up (my roommate deciding to exercise in the room at 8 AM did that) but it sure as hell sent the entire living contents of a 10-story dorm building out into the wind and rain. Most went to breakfast, but a lot headed for the comfort of the library - the last place where I could be sure I'd have a computer for the delicate process of registering for next semester. What do you think I did?

That's right. I ran like a bat out of hell.

Picture this: a 6' XXXL-black-sweater-clad skinny white girl bolting past the masses like a Kenyan for a computer. It is the fastest and most dextrous I have ever run at 8:30 AM burdened by a messenger bag and bulky clothes.

Ahh, college.

Anyways, now all I have to contend with is the infamously slow school connection that is fully capable of making or breaking a person's semester. I think I'll be ok - it's just the concept of waiting in here for another half an hour, rushing to register, then booking it to a class that I will be late for, and surviving with no food till noon. I'm basically running on adrenaline. Although I've heard of this thing called "Red Bull"...the can says not to exceed two cans a day.

Sounds like a challenge to me!

In which Shelley is edjookated...

2007-10-18T16:51:52Z

Things I learned in college:

You cannot cut your tongue by licking the flat side of a knife. (My parents LIED to me! You know, I bet the Easter Bunny doesn't lay those candy-filled eggs, either!)

It doesn't matter if you can succinctly prove your argument in 4 pages - you are expect to bullshit another page in order to make the minimum limit.

Everyone seems to have a better roommate than you.

Super Smash Brothers is the pasttime/time waster/study aid/gambling forum/bet settler/drinking game of choice. The only argument is whether to play it on N64 or Gamecube.

Packages are like Christmas.

Dating an old friend of a close floormate is WRONG and only leads to trouble and a pissed-off sexilee.

There are always politics and undercurrents going on. The best you can hope for is a good toehold in the undercurrent.

Every other dorm has a member who plays guitar. End of story.

In other news, I'm not recovering well from this scholastic week. I think it has something to do with the fact that autumn is a flirtatious homewrecker who can't decide whether to stay or leave. Also, I had a couple papers due in that broke my will to live. I'm also ready for a nice road trip. Any suggestions are welcome to be forwarded to my email account. Winner will receive a digital hug.

In which Shelley has a bad day...

2007-09-29T23:01:50Z

The following I wrote at 8:30 AM this morning with no caffeine and a long day ahead. It happens.

~~~

"I'm going to Tarantino my day. That means we're gonna see what's happening right now, go backwards, see a scene that makes no sense and involves at least three makeshift but totally badass weapons, then fast-forward and see more now, then backstory, then segue to a totally different movie and see if anyone notices.

"I was up at 8 AM today. Do you have any idea what campus is like at 8 AM on Saturday morning? Nothing. It is a lonely wasteland to rival a Vietnamese minefield. Nobody in their right mind is awake this early. Nobody, apparently, but a freshman whose butt belongs to the theater and has been pressganged into building the set.

"As I was getting ready this morning, someone's alarm went off and, God bless 'em, it was a bugle trill. An actual bugle trill. First of all, it was a cellphone alarm, and cellphone alarms were invented so as to be more soothing than morning regalia. Second, if you want to wake up to a bugle, if you've got a kink for faux-militant procedure at 7 AM on the weekend, God forbid you pay a trumpeteer from the band to stand outside your dorm every morning and play a round. It'll be just as loud and you'll be supporting the arts.

"The cafeteria doesn't open early on weekends so I had to resort to the convenience store which offers exactly 2 kinds of half-rotten fruit and 5 muffins. I bought a plum and what I thought was a blueberry muffin. It was not. I just bit into it and damned if it isn't some inbred child of cranberries and carrots. I don't know who contrived this crime against muffanity, but they need to be taken out behind the flour bins and shot.

"This grumpiness is spawned from a grand total of 4 hours of sleep. I've only been awake for 45 minutes. Someone euthanize me now."

In which Michelle proves college is racist.

2007-03-23T00:26:56Z

WARNING. Some (if not all) readers may find this offensive. It's not intended as such, but there's the tradeoff. But I figure if I don't write this, who will? I've been meaning to get a good rant off about this and now's the time.

§§

Let's face it: colleges are getting racist. And not in a civil-rights, keep-the-black-man-down, you-hate-me-'cause-I-have-Latino-grandparents racist.

No. It's getting tougher and tougher for Caucasian kids to get into college.

See, institutions have these things called "minority quotas" which they're supposed to fill, almost regardless of scholastic merit. That means that, in a contest for the last spot in an Ivy-league college, a kid with "a diverse ethnic background" who scored a 1490 on his SAT will be sent the acceptance letter over a Polish/German closet case who busted his ass to make a 1570. That kid now has been cheated out of his hard work just because he happened to be honest in filling out his ethnic background on the application.

Colleges have to do this. This way they don't get sued by the NAACP for trying to be a WASP institution.

Pardon me, but since when should your skin color make you more acceptable to colleges? Since when did the Civil Rights Movement include using your heritage as an excuse?

And don't get me started on exclusive scholarships. That's what they are: SCHOLARships. Based on talent and academic achievement. Not the family you happened to be born into.

I don't consider myself racist. I hate using the words "black" and "white", but I hate "African-American" even more. You're only "African-American" if you were born in Africa, immigrated to this country and secured citizenship. But because they must have had one ancestor who hailed from the Continent, it's only P.C. to call them "Afro-American". Why's this? I don't go around calling myself "Russian-American" or "German-Irish-Austrian-Russian-American". Know why? Because that's stupid. Also, there are hundreds of different places in Africa one can hail from. Grouping them together is an insult. Might as well call us "European-Americans" or "Asian-Americans". Oh, wait, we can't do that, because there are DOZENS of countries we could hail from and to group us together wouldn't be acceptable.

Hmm. I think someone didn't get the memo about cultural diversity within a continent.

We caucasians can't drop the n-bomb (and who would want to?), but in the great hypocrisy, they still can. Although, to be fair, most affirmative-action A-A's don't use it, and I have uber-respect for that.

I got into college, I like to believe, on my own merit. I made acceptable grades and I participated in enough extra-curricular stuff to make me eligable to attend a college I'm ecstatic to be going to. I don't like to think that there are kids out there who got cheated out of a place at their dream college because some reverse-racist bleeding heart demanded that a person be let in just because their ancestors were repressed.

I don't like to think that. But I know it's true.

Get religious!

2006-09-01T01:19:28Z

Want the best-of-the-best silly Jersey stories delivered to you in an exciting new manner?

Then read The Gospel of Me, a special livejounal I've created. Only half the good stuff ends up in this LJ, you know. But everything that ranks a 7 or higher on the FunnyShitOMeter goes in there.

Have fun!

Michelle Hates Terrorism

2006-08-13T11:32:37Z

Before you say "Hey, I hate terrorism too! This is old hat!", just think about this: you did not just spend yesterday (which topped off to be a 20-hour day on 6 hours of sleep) in the airport. You did not have to fly 7.5 hours home from England to the USA. You did not live those 7.5 hours in fear that someone you've never met, never even seen from a country you've never worried about had sneaked on a weapon that could blow the flimsy-walled flying deathbox to tiny bits of shrapnel mid-flight over your beloved and much-missed home country.

I'm not a political person. I'm the make-love-not-war type without the sex. Personally, I don't see why everyone can't just leave everyone alone; no one's "right" or "wrong" and it's really none of our business in the end if a country's a democracy or a dictatorship so long as they're not threatening to blow up a hemisphere. And hey, if everone subscribed to this concept we'd essentially have world peace!

Unfortunately, they don't and we don't, so we have conspiracies to blow up passenger flights and kill hundreds - even thousands - of innocent people who have never really wished ill of another country.

Anyway, all this ruckus has led to this increase in airplace security which is my original reason for writing. I, traveling yesterday as a member of a Girl Scout group, may have gone through the process faster than the average passenger (and my heart goes out to innocent Saudi-Arabians flying these days!), but again, if no one hated another country enough to attack their planes then we wouldn't have all this hype. Again, unfortunately, we do, so I experienced a very specific Hell yesterday that I feel I should share.

Even before thinking about going to the airport, I had to assure that I wouldn't have any carry-on luggage save my passport, another form of ID and a small amount of money. If US Airways didn't have in-flight entertainment like SkyRadio and the TVs for each seat, this would have been a daunting 7.5 hour trip indeed without a book or anything. Since I came to England with three bags (two checked and one carry-on), I had to shove the contents of that third bag into the other two. A tough task.

Then we went and got through baggage check quick enough, but it was the personal security checks that killed us. Each individual is now given a pat-down and must remove their shoes and all decently removable items of clothing. The contents of their moneypurses must be examined. And then another personal security check before getting on the plane.

The flight itself is alright, except for the mounting fear that someone may have slipped something past security. Meanwhile USAIR is making a killing off selling earphones because no one could bring them on or anything else to amuse themselves and it is physically impossible to sleep through the journey. When we were descending the engines made a funny popping noise like a gunshot, but that was, in hindsight, probably just engine trouble.

Getting off the plane was yet ANOTHER personal search and ANOTHER baggage check, and let's not talk about the line going through customs. Maybe four flights backed up and the computers broke down and our Girl Scout leaders barking at us the while, but like I said, let's not talk about that. Finally I got into the car and drove home through rush hour traffic because we were two hours late.

In conclusion, I hate terrorism because terrorists are ruining my short-term life. Or at least making it very, very difficult. I wish I could sit down and talk with a terrorist face-to-face. I wish I could ask him or her why. I wish I could make them understand that in normal society, suicidal people just kill themselves instead of taking perfectly happy people down with them. I wish I could convince several world leaders that we may be fighting each other but we are working together to destroy the world. I wish, I wish.

I wish.

Camping

2006-07-17T01:14:48Z

It's only good when you don't have to be with the family all the time.

And to the folks at the Tamaqua Diner, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to chew that waitress' hand off. I was hungry, and she smelled like bacon anyway.

P.S. This would not be tasty.

"You just picked that up!"

2006-07-10T18:25:55Z

So last night was the grandest end to a long grounding I've ever had.

Joey picked me up and we went to the Sage Diner, where there was enough powdered sugar to make it look like we were snorting cocaine and two cream puffs. They were the bomb.

But the really fun part was when we went to chill in the landscaping near my bank's parking lot. We started to climb a willow tree, and then decided it was uncomfy. So I suggested we go climb another. Before we knew it, Joey and I were willow-hopping! This ended in Joey and I perched in a tree and I grabbed a handful of branches, yelled "tree diving!" and jumped out, parachuter-style.

I hit the ground hard.

I also unwittingly ripped off a bunch of the branches.

But it was ok, because I then proceeded to tie them around myself like a sash and go running around hooting at the top of my lungs. Joey followed suit and soon we were decked in crowns, bracelets, unicorn horns and belts of willow fronds, claiming that we were imitating a race of fantasy humans who were basically elf-wannabes, living and guarding a grove of willow trees. Traveling warriors were afraid to pass through because they'd have to deal with the stupidity of the inhabitants. Basically, the willow people would run around under the moon and chant to their god Willomena, who apparently is wed to the moon god Luna, and they make lots of little tree-moon babies named Wilunas, hence the name of the race. They hiss at other types of trees, hold fronds and stand still to imitate willows to hide, and mostly dance around and talk like sissies.

It was the best ever. I love Joey.

And I'm myself again.

2006-06-29T19:45:28Z

I'm in a much better place than where I was two weeks ago. Now that school's out, I have time to sit back and reflect on who I am and what I mean to do on this facet of reality. It's been a tough journey, and I can't say at all that there haven't been injuries, casualties and the meaningless murder of almost-innocent bystanders (There have been).

But the blood's dried and I can scrape it off easier now. The scars will always be there, but now I can laugh at them instead of crying. It's true: in time, all things do pass, be it pain or depression or gas.

So now, I have three immediate goals to accomplish:
1. Enjoy myself this summer with people I may never see again. Mainly college-bound kids.
2. Never hold back. This 17th year of mine will be the year I mean to blur my lines, loosen the morality and stp being such a tight-ass when it comes to personal relationships. Who cares in the end? So long as it's not incest, all's well. And I refuse to be tethered to anyone.
3. Make and save money towards next spring's Britainnia trip. Scotland, here I come, darling! Save a jig for me!

Fuck it.

2006-06-16T01:42:34Z

I hate humanity. I hate romance. I hate everything that leads up to or supports reproduction. I hate straight men.

But for once, I don't hate myself.

It's gonna be awhile 'till I'm myself again.

Oh, Mexico!

2006-06-15T01:22:09Z

I really, really loathe the end of the year. Everything's in such a damn hurry to get finished and the things you really need time for can't be done past a point. So you're rushed, rushed, rushed, past a breaking point when you need to break all ties just to feel sane again. I may hate myself in the morning and for every sunset hereafter, but at least I won't be the bitch I've been being.

If any of that makes sense.

Rockin' the Laurel

2006-05-30T20:36:52Z

So Lisa picked me up today after school and we drove to go find white hair-spray for me (I'm going as Rogue to the Wizard World Comic Convention and I'm gonna be the hottest one there, hands-down) and black face make-up for a project of mine. Wackiness ensued:

1. We saw the General Lee. I'm talkin' all-out, orange paint, "01" on the side, completely Dukes of Hazzard lookalike. It drove by us at the mall. We applauded. He honked, and it was the official General Lee horn. GOD I love 3 PM Tuesdays at the mall.

2. I saw Laura. It was a cliche "What the hell?!" moment. We were sitting in the food court and I glanced up, mid-bite, and saw her looking straight at me. We simultaneously flipped out, and it was cool. She had been there filling out a Strawbridges-that-will-be-a-Macy's application. We chatted, and poor Lisa looked all third-wheelish and I felt bad. Laura and I ruined X Men 3 for her (Which, by the way, GO SEE and STAY after the credits. I didn't know that second part until after I saw it.

3. I accomplished nothing else.

Off to write this blasted term paper!

Bedtime story...

2006-05-17T01:50:18Z

Once upon a time there was a fabulously naive duchess named Michelle. She wasn't pretty enough or pupular enough or rich enough or whorish enough to be a princess, but rather had some measure of self-respect and preferred to be a duchess, and woe betide the prince's nutsack what dared tick her off. She wore a lot of dark colors and loathed the color pink and floral prints, as all good duchesses do.

Our fair duchess went to high school. She met boys. Boys didn't like her much because she was honest and humorous and had no breasts to speak of. Michelle spend much of freshman year in a slump, unsure of herself and upset because she got a bum rap and was labeled a lesbian.

Enter sophomore year! Michelle grows to an A-cup. Boys seem to like her a bit more, because she's begun to wear things that fit her and belong on the female figure. Michelle doesn't mind much, as she's not interested in dating. Michelle doesn't realized that many princes don't like this type of disposition and are intimidated by a girl who doesn't want to go down on them as soon as she meets them. Michelle breezes through sophomore year, plagued only by a cruel witch named Bishop and the concept of junior year.

Ah, but what awaits fair duchess next year, but enough pressure to condense an eighteen-wheeler into a Rubik's-cube-sized box and boys out the ying-yang? Michelle is overwhelmed; somehow over the summer she has seemed to finally have generated the "attractive factor" (also involving another cup size), and is now cursed with an overabundance of male friends. Michelle is uncomfortable, and so deals with it in the WORST POSSIBLE WAY: she assumes they'll all just remain friends.

Michelle is horrendously, heinously, unforgivably wrong.

And now Michelle pays for it.

Sleep on that.

Carve out my uterus with a rusty spoon.

2006-05-03T23:39:45Z

If that's what it comes to. Once a week I babysit three very small, high-maintenance children for two hours. It is all that I need to remind me that I never want to procreate.

Well, it's down to the final stretch; two days! Seeing Laura again gets me all excited, because what would you do if you hadn't seen your best friend in four straight weeks? That's about a month and a third, children. And of course Vegas ranks just below her, and I won't discuss how that gets me excited. After this whole fiasco and emotional strain with Derek I don't know how I'm gonna react when the two come home, but it won't be calmly and it will probably be very embarrassingly honest. I love my friends. Desperately and often illogically, but I love them to pieces.

Yes, I am a god.

2006-05-02T21:57:22Z

Well, thumbs up and a big shoutout to Sam Parker, to whom I owe my firstborn. (However, he'lll have to get in line for it, as I've promised it elsewhere about thirty other times. My seventeenth-born, however, has a waiting list of only twelve, so that offers better odds.

Because of dear Sam, I won't be failing History. He knows why, Me bless him. All hail Sam!

Anyways, I beasted my test, beasted my job interview*, beasted the day, and the countdown's down to THREE!

Three days, hookerfaces!!!

*Further reference

Sometimes it's best just to shut up and look sad.

2006-05-01T19:23:55Z

Today sucks mightily. I have a major History exam tomorrow, and I'm far behind on studying for it. I'd have liked to have been able to spend the afternoon and evening preparing, but in about half an hour, I go off to babysit two girls who have to be completely entertained 'lest I get on the wrong side of their mother. Means very little work-time at all - if any. Soon after that, I come home and then have to leave half an hour later to drop by the library and then off to Venture Crew 'till I get home around 9:15 PM.

If I pull off a B or even a C tomorrow, I'll be a god.

Anyway, here's for some fun stuff! What does 113 make me? O_o

[01] I have read a lot of books.
[ ] I have been on some sort of varsity or junior varsity team.
[ ] I have run more than 2 miles without stopping.
[02] I have been to Canada.
[ ] I have been to Europe.
[03] I have watched cartoons for hours.
[04] I have tripped UP the stairs.
[05] I have fallen down an entire flight of stairs.
[06] I have been snowboarding/skiing.
[07] I have played ping pong.
[08] I swam in the ocean.
[09] I have been on a whale watch.
[10] I have seen fireworks.
[11] I have seen a shooting star.
[ ] I have seen a meteor shower.
[12] I have almost drowned.
[13] I have been so embarrassed I wanted to disappear.
[14] I have listened to one CD over & over & over again.
[15] I have had stitches.
[ ] I have had frostbite.
[16] I have licked a frozen pole and got stuck there.
[17] I have stayed up til 2 doing homework/projects.
[18] I had/have a job.
[19] I have been ice skating.
[20] I have been rollerblading.
[21] I have fallen flat on my face.
[22] I have tripped over my own two feet.
[23] I have been in a fist fight.
[24] I have played videogames for more than 3 hours straight.
[25] I have watched the power rangers.
[26] I attend Church regularly.
[27] I have played truth or dare.
[28] I have already had my 16th birthday.
[29] I have already had my 17th birthday.
[30] I've called someone stupid. And meant it.
[31] I've been in a verbal argument.
[32] I've cried in school.
[33] I've played basketball on a team.
[ ] I've played baseball on a team.
[ ] I've played football on a team.
[34] I've played soccer on a team.
[ ] I've done cheerleading on a team.
[ ] I've played softball on a team.
[ ] I've played volleyball on a team.
[ ] I've played tennis on a team.
[ ] I've been on a track or cross country team.
[35]I've been swimming more than 20 times in my life.
[ ]I've bungee jumped.
[36] I've climbed a rock wall.
[37] I've lost more than $20.
[38] I've called myself an idiot.
[39] I've called someone else an idiot.
[40] I've cried myself to sleep.
[41] I've had (or have) pets.
[42] I've owned a spice girls CD.
[43] I've owned a britney spears CD.
[ ] I've owned an N*Sync CD.
[44] I've owned a backstreet boys CD.
[45] I've mooned someone.
[46] I've sworn at someone in authority.
[47] I've been in the newspaper.
[48] I've been on TV.
[ ] I've been to Hawaii.
[49] I've eaten sushi.
[ ] I've been on the other side of a waterfall.
[50] I've watched all of the Lord of the Rings movies.
[51] I've watched all the Harry Potter movies.
[ ] I've watched all of the Rocky movies.
[52] I've watched the 3 stooges.
[ ] I've watched "Newlyweds" Nick & Jessica.
[53] I've watched Looney Tunes.
[ ] I've been stuffed into a locker/I have stuffed others into lockers.
[54] I've been called a geek.
[55] I've studied hard for a test and got a bad grade.
[56] I've not studied at all for a test and aced it.
[ ] I've hugged my mom with the past 24 hrs.
[ ] I've hugged my dad within the past 24 hours.
[57] I've met a celebrity/music artist.
[58] I've written poetry.
[ ] I've been arrested.
[59] I've been attracted to someone much older than me.
[60] I've been tickled till I've cried
[61] I've tickled someone else until they cried.
[62] I've had/have siblings.
[ ] I've been to a rock concert.
[63] I've listened to classical music and enjoyed it.
[64] I've been in a play.
[65] I've been picked last in gym class.
[66] I've been picked first in gym class.
[67] I've been picked in that middle-range in gym class.
[68] I've cried in front of my friends.
[69] I've read a book longer than 1,000 pages.
[ ] I've played Halo 2.
[70] I've freaked out over a sports game.
[ ] I've been to Alaska.
[ ] I've been to China.
[ ] I've been to Spain.
[ ] I've been to Japan.
[71] I've had a fight with someone on AIM
[72] I've had a fight with someone face-to-face.
[73] I've had serious converstations on any IM
[74] I've forgiven someone who has done something wrong to me.
[75] I've been forgiven.
[76] I've screamed at a scary movie.
[77] I've cried at a chick flick.
[78] I've watched a lot of action movies.
[79] I've screamed at the top of my lungs.
[ ] I've been to a rap concert.
[ ] I've been to a hip hop concert.
[80] I've lived in more than 2 houses.
[81] I've driven on the highway.
[82] I've driven more than 40 miles in a day
[83] I've been in a car accident
[ ] I've smoked weed.
[84] I've been homesick.
[85] I've thrown up
[86] I've puked on someone.
[87] I've been horseback riding.
[88] I've filled out more than 10 myspace surveys.
[89] I've spoken my mind in public.
[90] I've proved someone wrong.
[91] I've been proven wrong by someone.
[ ] I've broken a leg.
[ ] I've broken an arm
[92] I've fallen off a swing.
[93] I've swung on a swing for more than 30 mins straight
[94] I've watched Winnie the Pooh movies.
[95] I've forgotten my backpack when I've gone to school.
[ ] I've lost my backpack.
[96] I've come close to dying.
[ ] I've seen someone die.
[97] I've known someone who has died.
[98] I've wanted to be an actor/actress at some point.
[ ] I've done modeling.
[99] I've forgotten to brush my teeth some mornings.
[100] I've taken something/someone for granted.
[101] I've realized how good my life is.
[102] I've counted my blessings.
[103] I've made fun of a classmate.
[104] I've been asked out by someone and I said no.
[105] I've slapped someone in the face.
[106] I've skateboarded
[107] I've been backstabbed by someone I thought was a friend.
[108] I've lied to someone to their face.
[109] I've told a little white lie.
[110] I've taken a day off from school just so I don't go insane.
[ ] I've fainted
[111] I've had an argument with someone about whether dance is a sport or not.
[112] I've pushed someone into a pool.
[113] I've been pushed into a pool.

Makin' banana pancakes...

2006-05-01T00:16:02Z

Friday night: Saw American Dreamz with Mads. Under no circumstances are any of you to waste your money. Wait 'till it comes out on DVD. Hugh Grant, Dennis Quaid and that Middle-Eastern guy can only carry that movie so far as shoddy mock-ups of Simon Cowell, George Bush and an adorable Iraqi. Anyway, then we rocked the Medport Diner, which was indeed in the middle of Nowhere, Medford. I got blueberry pie and hot tea, which is great 'cause it's filling, somewhat healthy (Pie is healthy!) and really cheap. And after seeing Waiting..., I tip 30%. Without fail.

Saturday: Tore South Jersey a new one on my bike. I went over to the park and chilled for about two and a half hours, just writing and listening to music and reading and just basically enjoying myself. Then I met Mads for lunch at Angelo's, then went over to Mell's house to play Kingdom Hearts 2 and see the hotness that is Riku/Ansem. Then I came home, and Derek called and we rocked the Laurel Lanes. I owned his butt 117-to-87, and then we went to the BK Lounge where we kept Jason company. He had to close up early because of BK's black hole of rules, but we stuck around 'till 10:45 while I got psychotherapy over my boy issues. No, folks. There is nothing in this world that's black-and-white. Every issue on earth is a different shade of gray.

Sunday: Rolled over to the Cooper River Regatta with Lisaface. Eye candy as far as you could see, but of course it's all lookee-no-touchee for me, because I suck at polygamy. I get a guilt complex the size of your mom. We left around 4:00 and got Japanese at that Mikado place that I thought had closed down years ago. Apparently I was wrong. We put on Jack Johnson (which explains my subject title) and we got hit on by these three guys in a pickup as we were driving on the highway. Apparently driving a 2.5-ton moving metal death trap can be ignored when making lewd gestures at a pair of amazingly hot girls in a '98 Talon and trying to get them to "follow you". Yeah right. We had a good laugh over those screwballs and I came home to be exhausted and talk about catfish and exploding bladders with Kelseyface.

Final Thought: It's been a great weekend. Next weekend won't be so awesome. Friday is the JROTC cookout, which is bound to be great, but Saturday is the day of the Suck Ass Test, followed by a surprise party for my friend's girlfriend. And then Sunday is Linedancing.

Wish me luck. And good sleep.

"Shut your bitch-hole, fucktard."

2006-04-16T18:33:52Z

Thumbs up to when the Easter party comes to me.

Thumbs down to my cuticle cracking and bleeding all over the place.

Thumbs up to your mom last night.

Thumbs down to pretentious assholes with no souls. (That means you, doppleganger.)

Thumbs up to having nothing to do of any real consequence for two days running. I really like Spring Break. I'm only sad that I can't be at the shore or something like the cliche high school students do during this week.

crazy quizzes...

2005-08-14T18:36:33Z

You And The Future by ladyallie
Name:
Age:
Sex
Your friends think...	You talk too much
One day you will be...	A Movie Star
The best part about you is....	Your voice
On...	November 16, 2072
You will be...	A Snob
And everyone will....	hope for the best.

Quiz created with MemeGen!

And this one will serve for inspiration purposes only.

2005-06-07T21:04:27Z

These lyrics have been kicking around my head for awhile, so I'm just gonna stick 'em on paper. They're not in order, they probably won't rhyme. But they're here mostly for my purposes. You're welcome to comment. I'll follow-up when it's done.

So this is what they call "Midnight Blue"

Never ceases to amaze me how much it reminds me of you

Its like I'm falling upwards into God's irises.

And while I'm rollin' down the highway at a hundred-and-ten

I can look down at the rolling cacti and see Golden Mexico in them

Makes me wonder if I'd been born again...

And sometimes I feel like the daughter of Dean Moriarty

Tracin' my way through storm and flood

Feelin' his heartbeat racin' in my blood

There's never a moment I don't feel I belong in the trenches

Holdin' a rifle, a grinning disciple of the molten poetry that is my destiny...

So this is what they call "Growing in Good Graces"

Seems like I've been introduced to too many faces

My head is swirling, I'm giddy on martyr's souls

Yeah, you can preach to me of settlin' down

Step down off my pillar, take off my crown

But you're holding me under, and I feel I'm about to drown...

And sometimes I feel like the daughter of Dean Moriarty

Tracin' my way through storm and flood

Feelin' his heartbeat racin' in my blood

There's never a moment I don't feel I belong in the trenches

Holdin' a rifle, a grinning disciple of the molten poetry that is my destiny...

And after the writer's block fades away...

2005-06-07T20:43:47Z

I'm all jacked-up on poetry and being pissed. Not a good combination, so this one goes out to all the posers out there. All the kids who can't be happy with who they are and have to imitate others to look cool. Here goes:

Kickin' around the house
Like you got time to spare
Like the whole world revolves around you
And cause you can't get outside, can't feel the wind in your hair
You're so blue.

Baby, you're not "black" inside.
The only color in your gut is alabaster red
And it's the same for everyone.
You're no exception to the rule
Just 'cause you think you're cool.
Sit down, shut up, and take the cigarette out of your mouth.

You're no badass.

Take it all for granted,
the day is gonna come
When you'll wish you listened to someone else for once.
Someone who stood up to you, ripped down all you thought was true
And made you look like the dunce.
(That's right, bitch. I called you a "dunce".)

Go on, baby. Piss and moan.
Say we don't know shit. Claim the only thing we should do is as you do.
You're gonna regret it.
And we won't let you forget it.
Come the day, we'll be the ones bailing you out.

Wow. Guess I died and came back a ramblin' man...

2005-04-20T21:54:49Z

I think I'm gonna die from underexposure to Billy Joel at a young age. I can't believe I never got into this golden man. Him and John Mayor. Right now, those two and their music are having sex in my head and I'm the one getting all the orgasms.

It's a good feeling.

Not to mention I'm feeling more and more like Drusilla every day. That girl knew what was going on; Her and Dean Moriarty probably did the deed and had me, and I just got mixed up with some boring son of a bitch at the hospital. At least, that's what I think (and hope). Because God knows I couldn't have come out my my parent's minds.

Speaking of the original Soul Man of my life, my dad forced me to watch Blazing Saddles. Lemme tell you, God said "Let there be retardation, racism and mysogonism" and there was Mel Brooks. I really didn't like it.

Anywho, I'm gonna let my musicians go back to what they do best in my head. Lord knows, I've actually written LYRICS and the actual MUSIC to those lyrics in the last few weeks. Somethin' scary going on.