Blogging without a purpose since May 2006.
One time last month or so in my math class, we saw a mouse scurrying about on the floor. We named it Scruffles, and no one was really that freaked out. So, I figured, good, in the event someone sees another mouse, no one will freak out.
Oh boy was I wrong. Last week or so, I was just minding my own business talking to Skylar, and all of a sudden-- and I kid you not-- I hear,
"SKLJFKLJDSMOUSE!"
Which is exactly how it sounded. It was like she was speaking in tounges.
"She" being a girl named Taylor, who has a reputation for being loud, annoying, and whiney.
Taylor had seen another mouse.
and then we all proceeded to laugh and/or become extremely pissed off at Taylor for her little episode.
It was exceptionally funny.
and this time we named it Mr. Whiskers I think.
A few weeks ago my Honors Spanish class and the other 8th grade Spanish exploritory classes went on a field trip to a little Spanish market and then to see a Spanish performance. We left school at about 8:45, and then drove to the little market. We got churros and free soda while we were there. And they were some damn good churros too. Not too greasy, not to dry. The perfect churro. Then we drove to the Jewish Community Center to see the performance, you know because that's the obvious place for Hispanic people to hang out.
Then when the play started, three fairly ugly women with sunken cheeks and an even uglier man were on stage. They then proceeded to dance. For-fucking-ever. Probably for about ten minutes. Then an old white-haired man came out and played classical guitar for a bit. Actually not for a bit. He too played for an insanely long time. and then the dancers came back out. and then the guitar man came back out, except this time with a guy who looked like Keith Urban and Fabio's love child. And he looked like a total sleeze. So fast forward about an hour to the end of the show, because trust me nothing worth hearing happened in the interum. So then they start pulling people onto stage to do the macuerana. At which point, my Spanish teacher leans over to me and says, "You know, the macuerana actually refers to a girl who is behaving like a slut." Which caught me COMPLETELY off gaurd. Because not only did she tell me that, but she actually used the word, "slut," without hesitation. And then the sleeze man started introducing peolpe. and when he introduce him self, he did a little dance that so conveniently accented his ass, and then, he started lifting up his shirt. It was really kind of disgusting; I wasn't even laughing at it. It was just creepy. There's a very thin line between funny and creepy, and he had crossed it by a mile.
And then there was the other guy, who wore several stretchy jumpsuits that left NOTHING to the imagination. Which is something I don't really want to play over again in my mind. But I am, just for the enjoyment of the readers. So be appreciative of my courage.
I was looking through some papers from sixth grade the other day. I found this:
And let me tell you. It may look like a poorly done, unfinished drawing, and it is. But there’s also quite a story behind it.
See, in sixth grade, I had this amazingly horrible teacher, Mr. Rector. I hated him, and he hated me. That was it. So anyway, we were learning the meaning of colors (maybe?) and he told us that we were going to make a flag with colors that represented us best. So, I, being the underachiever I am, wasted the good majority of the class period doing almost nothing. Then, when I was supposed to take it home and finish it, I also didn’t do that. So, for the next day, not only did I not have my homework done, but we also had to present it, much to my horror.
So the only way out? Skipping class. It was a carefully formulated plan I’d been waiting to use at the most dire of moments. So what I did was go to the guidance office, because I needed to “talk.” The guidance counselor calls up Mr. Rector to tell him that I’m in her office, and BAM! I’m out of class, and it worked perfectly. So then the rest of class was spent talking about nothing to the guidance counselor.
He never did ask me for it afterwards. It’s funny, even though sixth grade was like a living hell; moments like those gave me a damn good time.
I know what I would like to do.
See, you know how all those little kids go to the roller rinks for their birthdays, and then the DJ (who is always about 13 years old) announces their name and the age they are turning?
Yes. That's what I want to do. I plan on going there with my closest friends, and then having the DJ announce my birthday. And instead of saying, "Today is Susie's birthday. She is turning 6! Happy Birthday Susie!" I want them to say, "Today is Olivia's birthday! She's turning 15 today ladies and gentlemen! Happy Birthday Olivia!"
I don't know about you, but personally I would find that hilarious. Just the idea of hearing a fifteen year old girl having her birthday announced at a skating rink makes me laugh. Really.
So get ready. My birthday is in 7 months.
Be there. or be square.
yeah.
Yes, it has been an extrememly long time since I last posted, I know. But I've been busy.
Anyway, yesterday my dad took me to Best Buy, which was a rarity, as he usually says no when I ask him. While I was there, I was looking at digital cameras, like I always do. I'd never really looked at the DSLR section that they have there, even though I've looked at several DSLRs before. Looking at them made me reallly want one. I looked at a few, that were actually in my price range, which was only like two of them. One of them was the Nikon D40, and another one that I can't remember, because I wasn't playing too close attention. I liked the Nikon better though, which is good for me, because it was the cheaper of the two. I've also been looking at the Olympus Evolt E500, which is about a hundred dollars more, but that's for the two lens kit.
I would be set, if I had money. Which I have none of at this point. I'm actually in debt right now. I owe my mom about 124 to my mom, and 100 to my dad, for various things. But I need to figure out a way to make money, and fairly quickly. I'm having trouble trying find something I can do though, for a couple of reasons. 1.)There's not really anywhere close enough to my house that I can work at, 2.)My mom can't drive me, because she works a lot, and there's not a chance in hell that she'll let me walk there, and 3.) I'm not old enough to work at a lot of places. So basically, I'm pretty fucked when it comes to a job. And I don't babysit often enough to make that much money. So pretty much, the point of this was to get ideas from you guys as to what I could do to make money.
Perhaps I could ask some of the music stores down here how old you'd have to be to work for them.
So, last week, I ordered a drum set. I figured, hey, I like to play drums, and I have the money. So I read the reviews, heard that the cymbals on the set I wanted were just okay, and the heads were very thin. But, I ordered it anyway, knowing that I could deal with the cymbals, and I can replace the heads in a couple of months when I have money again. So, on the 2nd of this month, the cymbals for the drumset came, and I started to think, "hmm. that's kind of wierd that it doesn't just come all at once..." Then, yesterday, the cymbal stands came, and the drums themselves were SUPPOSED to come, but did not. So then, my dad calls and wakes me up around 8 this morning to tell me that they forgot to deliver them last night, and that they were sitting on a truck in some unknown area. Then, later today, around 1, the drums FINALLY came. None of which, except the snare drum, came previously assembled, much to Shelby's and my dismay. So, we took everything out of the box, and brought it up stairs.
We're sitting on my bedroom floor, looking at the work we have ahead of us. We spent probably 15 minutes trying to figure out HOW exactly we were supposed to put the heads on. And, since the directions were BEYOND shitty, they were of no help to us. When we FINALLY figured out how we were supposed to put the heads on. From there, everything moved pretty smoothly, at least until we get to the tom mounting. So, we've got everything all nice and ready. All the drums tuned up and the toms were ready to be mounted. Then, I go to put the metal pieces that you use to mount the toms on them, and at that point we realized that OH WAIT, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO PUT THESE ON BEFORE YOU PUT THE HEADS ON, AREN'T YOU? Then we proceed to remove alllll of the lugs from both of the toms, and take off the rims and heads so that we can put on the stupid fucking tom mounts. Which, by the way, wasn't discussed ANYWHERE in the directions. Once we had the tom mounts on there, and had put the heads and rims back on, we retuned everything, and put the drumset together the rest of the way. So now everything is just fine and dandy, right? Nope. About ten minutes into playing, one of the drum sticks that came with it, which are equal in quality with the directions, snaps in half. So then I had to duct tape it back together.
But now, everything is okay, and I've been playing them since then.
Here's a picture of it (click to make it bigger):
It's pretty bad ass.
This is in place of a New Years post, because my New Years was pretty mellow. Nothing really spectacular happened. But anyway:
Just the other day, I was talking to Audra and we were talking about Christmas. Then I started thinking about Christmas celebrations with my family in the past. And I started to think about that five extra minutes that your parents make you wait because you've been waiting all morning, and they know that that tiny bit of time is going to drive you over the edge. I remember as a little kid, waking up on Christmas morning, raring and ready to open my presents. But NOOO that was not going to happen. After waiting for a few hours for my parents to get up, I then had to wait for them to get dressed, eat something, and some other useless shit. THEN, when it seemed that my wait was over, that I could FINALLY open the treasure that was, at the time, probably some type of large Playschool toy, they would just HAVE to think of something else on the spur of the moment that they ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT BE WITHOUT. Then, when my brother and I would start to bug them about it, my parents would say something like, "Calm down. You can wait five minutes. We've gotten ready quickly this morning; it's not going to kill you." To which I wanted to reply, "QUICKLY? I'M SORRY, HAVE YOU BEEN PRESENT THIS MORNING? WE'VE BEEN UP FOR FOUR HOURS ALREADY. THAT IS NOT QUICKLY. AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN? I WILL CALM THE FUCK DOWN WHEN YOU GET OUT HERE. OKAY?" But I don't say anything, knowing that saying something will further prolong the time until I can open my presents. My brother and I eventually figured out that if you wake your parents up, they do get mad, but in the end, you get your presents more quickly.
Even now it happens like that. On Christmas morning this year with my mom, I was up around 7:00 a.m. and I went into my mom's room to find that she was still sound asleep. So then I waited a few hours until she got up, and then finally got to open the gifts.
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