Damn, I should've posted this a week ago

Summary of California: The weather is a fucking tease.



I keep thinking I'm going to have a really nice, sunny day, but no. Epic failure of the sun.



On the bright side, I can now tell people I regularly used the men's bathroom of a frat house and watch as their faces contort with horror. It's not that bad, really, but one of the showers has odd orange goop stuck on the door handle. Obviously, I don't use that one.



Also, we have tons more free time than I thought we would, and there are computers in the house itself, so it's all good. Although once again, I find myself haunting Gtalk (especially on Sundays), waiting for people to get online and NO ONE EVER DOES *hints like mad*.



Except for occasionally Cynic and his partner in crime, who I shall affectionately dub Not Nearly As Bad (But Getting There Quickly).



In other news.........I have no other news, because I haven't been Youtube surfing at all. But I did watch the Doctor Who season finale (without ever watching Doctor Who before) and it was pretty interesting. I think this requires more investigation.



And also I went hiking (walking) the Dish, which is basically a fatty fenced-off area where there are mountain lions, squirrels, and some giant dishes that look like they're used in making Death Rays.

EDIT (7/16/08): Well, the last week was miserably hot, so fuck you, California weather. Also, we had a dance. It was an demonstration of the failings of the male sex. And then we had a waterfight. Which wasn't a demonstration of anything, except for maybe how easily entertained really nerdy people are. And we watched billions (two) Heath Ledger movies, and I am depressed because a) he's cute and b) he's dead.

And a follow-up: Gay pirates win

Summary of Stardust: Robert De Niro dancing around with a pink feather fan.

It's like someone in Hollywood loves me.

Anyways, I'm going to be gone for quite a while (not that I post frequently enough to make it noticeable) and don't know how much Internet I'll get. So here, have a crazy Scottish battle song. It's a real work of art.

Also on Imeem is this song by a guy named Owain Phyfe, which is basically even worse than Bernard when you're having sex. It's almost as bad as Moondoggie. Or Pterodactyl.

I've discovered I don't really like plain coffee. Because I'm a psuedo-Seattleite I like to pretend I do, but it turns out I fail at being from Seattle and only like coffee with tons of sugar and chocolate and milk.

Here's another odd little thing I've rediscovered: those plastic tubes of colored water that are hollow. And like the picture says, they ARE super fun! They're also basically plastic genitalia (male AND female--equal opportunity toy molestation!) that go squish.

But I'm not done yet! I've got a few more things to fry your brains with. Like this small rodent. Not sure what species it is, but it's dramatic. Like, James Bond meets Star Wars dramatic, only all smooshed down into the form of a hamster/prairie dog/gopher.

However, not even "dramatic" can describe the two last goodies I've got for this smallish-looking group. Boys and girls, meet the childhood you may have had (but probably wanted to forget). I give you....Pokemon and Sailor Moon!!!

Okay, I sort of lied. Technically these are only the first-season openings, but it should be enough to bring back memories of hours spent in front of the TV letting Ash and Bunny along with their respective anime minions corrupt your innocent little brains.

And you should spend a good long while looking up these characters and their aforementioned minions on Wikipedia, because when a character is described as a "rose-throwing source of encouragement"....well. We all know he's going to have a bit more success than poor old Bernard.

Now I must go pack my pink camouflage-patterned pajama shorts. They're hot.

...

Fine, I was lying again. I think I'm going to pack the blue ones instead.

Arrgh! I be a pirate!

Only, you know. Not.

Even though school is over, I really don't feel like it is....and probably won't for a good long while. But who cares? No one wants to hear me talk about school. So instead, group, let's go for the good stuff: really bad smut.

....

Okay, I'm kidding. Although bad smut is brilliantly entertaining, just because phrases like "love juices" and "hearty meat" fail at being anything other than snicker-inducing. That'd kill sex right there: "Oh Bernard, stab my womb with your powerful man meat!.....Bernard? Bernard, why are you laughing?!?!?"

Not that the name Bernard wouldn't kill sex on its own, but whatever.

Anyway, that wasn't what I was planning on writing about. I was actually planning on writing about the woes of someone who needs to come up with witty things to write in her friends' yearbooks.

But wait, there's more!

I also have the woes of someone who knows she is going to get TOO FAT over summer, and if not over summer definitely when school starts again. Woe is indeed me, except that short and snarky is already me and so are a whole bunch of other things, so woe doesn't really stick out too much. Poor little woe, all ignored and unloved *pets*.

Clearly, I'm more than a little ADD right now--I blame the sundae and cupcake consumed a few hours ago that have yet to lose their effect. I also blame bad smut, for making me laugh, and good old whats-her-face who I'm not going to mention by name but YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Hmph.

And all I have to say is: "Your son has been kidnapped! By a Turk, on a yacht!"

Thank you ladies and squirrels, you've been a wonderful audience and the more you tip me (I prefer white chocolate, not dark, thanks) the more I'll post!

....Only, you know. Not. Again.

Three old draft-posts in one!

Title: Okay, so there IS a God

Of course there's a site that does lolcats, Star-Wars-style.

That is all.

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Title: A list of uselessness about me and why yes I AM self-centered)

I am useless. This has been established over and over and over again, thank you very much. So in honor of uselessness, I'm going to do a LIST. Scandal. And this list, instead of being thought-provoking or even humorous, is simply going to be things about me that you probably never needed to know. There will be a quiz on this later.

1. I have a horse blanket sitting on my rug. I won it as champion rider for 2007 in my level, but the problem is, I have no horse. So I took it home, because it's fleece and a fairly pretty blue plaid, and now it's on my rug.

2. I currently have a bag of candy from Valentine's Day, a packet of almond roca, a tin of apple sours, and an drawer of other assorted chocolates and sweets, all inside my room.

3. In the winter, when I get cold, I sit on the floor heater.

4. I feel more awkward saying "lesbian" than "gay". I don't know why. I just do. (EDIT 5/3: I suppose I should mention that this makes me feel horribly guilty, but I should also mention that the awkwardness has receded in the past few months....so to those who feel offended, forgive me?)

5. I felt horrible when one of my model horses fell of the top of my desk and its leg broke. It is now dubbed the "Suicide Horse" by my parents, but I had my dad superglue its leg back on, and I'm worried if I put it back on top of my desk, it'll fall again.

6. I do 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles in my spare time (of which I have very little, being a chronic procrastinator).

7. I used to sing Hindustani classical music, but I hated practicing and so I quit. Now, when I see my old teacher, I like being able to tower over her. She's short.

8. I'd like to punch someone properly before I die, for no other reason than I think it's easier to accomplish than climbing Mount Everest or curing cancer.

9. However, if that someone happened to be an ex-boyfriend, I'd feel like I was in a bad Japanese soap opera. Or any Japanese soap opera.

10. Catcher in the Rye is a tasteless book and its protagonist can go die in a hole with Donald Duk and Meursault. I like flamboyant books, even if they're cheesy.

11. I have really knobbly knees, and they make me happy for no reason at all. I also have knobbly elbows, but I see them less.

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Title: Why are all these dogs out clubbing?

And once again, my post-title has nothing to do with the post at all. It will be tangent-filled and useless, but you already knew that (or you've never read this blog before).

But my first point isn't even actually a point. So there. It's actually an angry flail against girls who go to parties with over 2000 people, dress like a slut, and then complain about getting groped. Yes, there is someone in particular who I'm thinking of--but she's more of an idiot than I thought she was if she puts herself into situations where she's surrounded by drunk teenage guys and then makes it seem like she was about to be raped. Logically, of course, she would have left the party. But in true drama-slut fashion, I'm sure she stayed so that she'd have a good story for the next day. What. The. Hell.

It's not even just her--there are people who dress provocatively and then make a big deal out of getting watched by perverts in downtown. Not even approached. Just looked at. Apparently pervs now come with X-ray vision. I'd admit, in a moment of hypocrisy, that I'm really jealous, but it's just not true. I'll pass on the self-objectification, thanks.

It just seems so goofy to me that "feminists" would wear revealing clothes just to get attention, and hell, this is probably a super-pointed attack. It's not meant to be. I can understand, vaguely, why some girls do the things they do, but at the same time, I'd prefer if they go spread the drama somewhere else. There's a difference between dressing to look good, dressing to get attention, and dressing to get drama, and anyone who's desperate enough to put themselves in possibly dangerous situations just for the drama needs help, fast.

And then, of course, there are the frosh--also known as the sex maniacs. There are girls who plot to wear sheer white shirts to dances so that their bras are visible--and then they take it one step further, and they wear leopard-print bras. That's just TACKY. I mean, it's sort of okay for the seniors to be outrageously skanky, because they're seniors and usually it's funny rather than wrong. But these girls are what? 14, 15 years old. At risk of sounding like an old lady, they're children. I mean, are the guys they're trying to attract even taller than them yet? Hell, for all I know, it's not even for the guys as much as it is for the drama, and for the shock value--and that's just pathetic.

If they want to make a statement, they could always just learn how to krump. Either way, they'll look like idiots.

DragonForce Unite!!

Ah, those Brits. Once again, they have come up with something that makes me do a doubletake and go "WTF". This time, that magical thing happens to be a band called DragonForce.

No, I'm not kidding. If I was going to make up a band, I'd give it a better title. They're not all that good, but they play, according to themselves, "extreme power metal". This is BS. You can TOTALLY understand what they're singing. And they are extreme only because they have a who looks like a long-haired Rodney Yee on guitar, which is too badass for words.

More proof of their badassery: Their song "Through the Fire and Flames" is reputed to be the hardest song on Guitar Hero EVER. Clearly, these guys are hardcore.

Naturally, they're no match for Ingrid the Vertically Challenged Viking, but these guys are working on it. They've got the long hair and the bad clothing and an Asian guy (which actually takes away Viking Points, but whatever), but they're not quite there yet. So you should all buy a DragonForce CD to support their quest.

This post had no point. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Comment. Meow. Meow.

In Memoriam (WARNING: Mope-fest ahead)

I must admit, first off, that as a drama teacher Mark Sheppard really bugged me. We spent class last year playing games and practicing scenes with little to no help on actual acting technique from our teacher. The class was exasperating; I was disappointed but not heartbroken when I didn't get into Drama I this year.

I also knew, somewhere in the back of my head, that Shepps had cancer. He'd gotten treatment for it last year, but when he came back he was as loud and as round as I'd ever seen him. In fact, I never saw him again after very early this year--I'm glad, in a way, that I can remember him the way he was, "appliance" and all. I don't think he would have wanted to hear goodbyes from Lakeside-he was a part of the community for two decades, and I can't imagine how painful it would have been to have people look at him and know he was dying--writing him off before he was ready to leave. His life was all about his work, and it will be comforting, weeks from now, to know he was teaching until his last day. To Mr. Sheppard himself, I only wish I had gotten to say thanks for an awkward scene with Bailey, the ball toss game, and especially for making Schmidt kiss Danny Abrams in Merchant of Venice.

And to all the people who I cried with (or on) today--no matter how often we snark and fight, you guys really came through. I promise I won't be quite so melodramatic and mopey tomorrow, but today I offer a heartfelt thanks.

Chickens and why you're about to hate me

I was listening to the radio this morning, and they were talking about how some people will pay obscene amounts of money to take care of their pets. So of course I assumed that they were going to mention the people who pay tens of thousands of dollars just to build their dogs mini-mansions, people who take their cats to all-day spas, etc.

But I was wrong. This is a trend in my life.

Instead, they give as an example a British couple who are paying $2800 to try and cure their pet chicken of cancer. Yes, you read that right. A pet chicken. With cancer. I'm surprised the couple isn't deaf, blind, and mute, because this is worthy of a tragic screenplay.

Weirdly enough, the average lifespan of a chicken is 7-15 years. And here we must ask Nature what the fuck she was thinking, giving chickens a lifespan that long. We know chickens can do fabulous things like be trained to push buttons; they are also incredibly useless animals except for their eggs. In comparison, ostriches are also incredibly useless except for their eggs, which are delicacies, but they are also pretty badass for how ugly they are AND they can kill people, so they get more points than chickens.

Honestly, anything that can kill people gets points, just because there's only one way to end overpopulation (mass murder).

This is why I'd never succeed in politics. Also, somehow I got to genocide directed at useless people from a thirty-second radio blurb on chickens. I blame Mussolini. Everything's his fault anyways.

And even as I'm writing this, I just realized something. If people can cure chickens of cancer, why can't they cure other people of cancer? Or is there some sort of chicken-chemo treatment center over there in Britain? God, this is sort of like the comment about sending my dog clubbing. It has all become a useless ramble and at some point I shall probably just explode from superfluous rambling.

Which reminds me that I am a vocabulary snob. I use words like superfluous (especially in writing) because I think they're fun. I'm weird like that. I also use "cannot" in my essays, which is pretty much the snobbiest thing ever. So you see why I look down on people who have chickens with cancer. I am, not so deep down, an elitist, and it really doesn't help that I go to an superior school.

Plus I'm Asian. So I'm automatically smarter than you (unless you happen to be Korean, in which case I bow before you).

You are now allowed to hate me. And you should leave comments expressing your hate. Or just leave comments.