Allison In Wonderland

You Know, Writing Really Comes In Handy When You Can Only Move One Side Of Your Mouth

2008-09-08T18:27:00.004-04:00

Hey, everyone! Let's talk about how sucky my Monday was!

First I spilled coffee all over my shirt this morning in the car and had to rush back into the house to change my shirt so I barely made it to school on time.

Then I had an incredibly boring and exhausting day which was made worse by the fact that all day I was counting down to a dentist appointment I had right after school where I would be getting my first ever cavity filled. Joy!

On one hand I was kind of excited to have my first ever cavity if only because it seems like one of those things that you should have happen to you at some point in your life, you know? Graduating from high school without ever having had a cavity is sort of like getting the "No Detentions in 4 Years" award on Senior Day. It's like, "Really? You've NEVER had a detention? You've NEVER had a cavity? What do you do all day, brush your teeth and behave yourself? You sound like a ball of fun!"

Oh, and did I mention that I have an Anatomy test and a Government test back-to-back tomorrow? Yeah. So I was kind of peeved about being at the dentist until 5:00. I mean, of course I'm not going study for the tests until Study Hall, but it's the principle of the matter, I tell you, the principle!

So I'm sitting there in the dentist's chair thinking about all the ~~Judge Judy~~ studying that I'm missing while being forced to listen to K95. For those of you who do not live in glorious Richmond, Virginia, K95 is a country station that specializes in playing today's country hits, running screaming ads for local truck dealerships and basically destroying my will to live.

So I sit there for twenty minutes (I'm not even kidding, it was literally twenty minutes. If it wasn't for the pictures plastered all over the walls of my dentist's adorable little children, I don't know what I would have done with myself. When I told him this, he said, "Good. They served their purpose." Haha. My dentist is cuter than your dentist.)

Now, I was expecting it to hurt because I had been told be numerous people to expect pain, even if it was just a little bit, but I honestly didn't feel a thing. Except for the Novocaine shot, which wasn't that bad, and plus the whole numb gum/cheek/lips thing is much more annoying than any pain. Especially for someone like me who talks A LOT, and usually at 200 miles an hour. Now I have to talk out of the side of my mouth like Milo Ventimiglia.

And not having full use of my mouth is so much worse than not having full use of my arm like when I get shots, because I don't move my arms nearly as much as I move my mouth in a day. Except it was really annoying a few months ago when I got two shots in my left arm and I could only wash my hair with one arm for like three days. I felt like a chimpanzee. Or maybe like I was washing a chimpanzee. I feel like a chimpanzee was involved somehow.

So anyway, just updating you on mi vida since it's been a few days. More tomorrow, maybe.

And Also Some Beverage Recipes

2008-08-21T19:29:00.002-04:00

Hey, guys. Thanks for all the messages lately encouraging me to come back to this blog. I know that I have been terrible about updating lately and I really have no excuses for that. I am the Britney Spears of bloggers. I let my blog get a hold of my cigarettes while I wasn't looking. It is not good.

I thought as a way to thank you for all your messages, I would share with you a spam email I received recently from someone named Abdoula Ekberg with the subject line "teaspoonful". The email began with "Aloha!" and went on to tell me how to give my "girrrlfriend" new sexual "sensatiooons". Then there was this:

And at last casts off his body on the great ocean, and also
some beverage recipes i sent to mrs. The son of pandu, or
the heroic duryodhana? Let the main duct should be brought
under the control seldom occur. Maternal affection is discountenanced
the cold air exhilarated his blood. Michael, meanwhile,
not confined to the lower orders it reached the flung herself
on the ground in an agony of weeping, it is believed to
be the temporaljuice. The stronger to picturesque beauty,
and to the conveniences thou findest all those thine enemies,
whom thou was unable to pierce those cities. Afflicted by
do.' susie threw back her head. Arthur was standing were
still cased in leathern gloves. And the earth they aspire.
they are poor, poor as church mice.

I don't even know where to start with that. Except to say that I've read it a dozen times now and it has yet to get old. It's just so quotable. "It is believed to be the temporaljuice." "The heroic duryhodhana?" "They are poor, poor as church mice." Basically, if you want to sound like a crazy person, just quote something from that email.

I hope to be back to semi-regular posting soon, but not before next week because school starts on Monday and I have to cram everything that I was supposed to be doing all summer into this weekend. Which means that I have to read two books, write a paper about E.coli, figure out my schedule and get all my supplies unpacked and ready to go.

Oh, and also? Some beverage recipes.

I Think These Videos Tie For The Best Things I've Ever Seen In My Life

2008-07-01T23:10:00.003-04:00

Personally, I think that every news story should have a rap video parody:

Guilty Pleasures

2008-06-26T22:15:00.001-04:00

Have you guys heard of the website muxtape.com? It's a website where you can upload songs and make a playlist that you can then share with other people. The best part is that you can listen to the whole song instead of thirty seconds like on iTunes.

So anyway, I made a playlist the other day called "Guilty Pleasures: Don't act like you don't like them, too." Alternate subtitles include "I also listen to Belle & Sebastian and Dylan, I swear" and "Yeah, I hate me, too."

And here is the part where I break down my playlist track by track:

Len - Steal My Sunshine: The conversation in the beginning is probably my favorite intro to a song ever:

"Hey, Matt"
"Yeah, Tim?"
"Hey, have you talked to Mark lately?"
"Uhh, I haven't really talked to him but he looks pretty, uh, down."
"Ha ha ha, he looks pretty, uh, down."
"Yeah, well maybe we should cheer him up then."
"What do you, uh, suppose we should do?"
"Well....does he like butter tarts?"

I also love in the middle of the song when one of the guys randomly screams "I LOVE YOU KAREN!!!!!"

La Fouine - Reste en Chien: I am obsessed with French rap. Don't ask me why. I don't speak French. I am in Spanish 4. I have no idea what this song is about and I'm too lazy to look it up. More than that, I really don't care. It's actually kind of nice to have no idea what they're saying. Kind of like when you hear a mass in Latin and you can just space out. Of course, I space out when mass is in English, too, but I'm trying to make a point here.

Howie Day - Collide: This sounds like a song that would be played in the background of a makeout scene on some bad CW drama, but that "do do do do" part of the chorus sucks me in every time.

Adam Sandler - The Hanukkah Song II: Maybe this song itself isn't so much of a guilty pleasure, but more the fact that I listen to it all year round. There are three versions of this song and this one is my favorite because I think it has the best lyrics of the three. Lenny Kravitz is half Jewish/Courtney love is half, too/put them together...what a FUNKY, BADASS JEW!

Clipse - Ride Around Shining: "Hefty bags full of cash/Cars full of ass" is my favorite lyric that I've heard in along time. Maybe ever.

Liz Phair - H.W.C.: It's a boppy pop song about cum. And it'll get stuck in your head, too. And you'll sit in the middle of church singing "Give me your hot, white cummmmmm" in your head. At least I do.

Hot Action Cop - Fever for the Flava: This is also a great song for church. I always blast it while getting ready on days when I know that I have to go to mass first thing in the morning. Gets me pumped up for the Jesus.

Beyonce - Irreplaceable: If my mom sings "to the left, to the left" ONE MORE TIME when telling me to go to the left I swear to god I am going to kill her. But unlike Beyonce's boyfriend in the song, my mom is irreplaceable so that wouldn't be good.

Jennifer Lopez - Que Hiciste: A few days ago I was talking to my brother and somehow JLo came up in conversation and I was like, "Um, hey, haha, so..um...this is embarassing, but....have you heard her latest Spanish single?" He looked the video up on YouTube and we haven't been able to stop listening to it since. I mean, I couldn't stop listening to it before but now I've sucked him into the Que Hiciste. And once you get sucked into the Que Hiciste, you never look back. The lyrics are pretty hysterical, too. They are what my brother referred to as "some cold shit." The song is basically a metaphorical throwing her boyfriend's stuff onto her lawn and burning it while giving him the finger. I like to think that it's about Ben Affleck. She erased all your dreams of her dreams, Ben. Because you dimmed with your fury her glance.

Cassie - Me & You: My mom and I lovingly referred to this song as "the blowjob song" for the first few months that it was out and then I was in the car with a friend one day and when this song came on the radio I was like, "Hey! It's The Blowjob Song!" and she was like, "What?! This song isn't about blowjobs!" and I was like, "Um, have you listened to the lyrics? "Baby I'll love you all the way down/Just relax and let me make my move/Baby tell me how you like it" How is it about anything else?" And she was like, "Well I heard that she wrote it for her mom's birthday" and I was like, "Yeah, if her message for her mom was "Happy Birthday! I want to blow you!"

John Mayer - Dreaming With A Broken Heart: I know. I KNOW. But I heard it in Starbucks one time and for whatever reason felt compelled to download it. It's the only John Mayer song that is currently on my iTunes if that makes you feel any better. It doesn't make me feel better, though.

50 Cent (Feat. Justin Timberlake) - Ayo Technology: From the first time that I heard 50 Cent say "Something special/Unforgettable/50 Cent/Justin/Timbaland/Goddamn" in the intro, I knew that I was in love with this song.

Of course, I have way more guilty pleasure songs but muxtape has a 12 song maximum. My guilty pleasure song du jour is this. I saw it on Fuse today and now I can't stop listening to it. Listening and dancing, I should say. Dance, dance, dance, dance!

Way To Let Me Down, Discovery Channel.

2008-06-19T20:20:00.002-04:00

There was a show on earlier called "Hooked: Caught Bare Handed" and I got all excited because I thought it was about hookers and, like, the red light district in Prague or something but it was actually about catfish.

A Bit Too Long To Twitter

2008-06-07T13:17:00.004-04:00

I'm finding lately that it's really entertaining to speak like the King James version of the Bible. I mean, minus all the Jesus stuff. It's just fun to stand in the middle of the kitchen, eat a midnight snack, look down at my cat who's lying on the floor and say, "BEHOLD I have eaten a saltine cracker! And lo, the Lord said it was good."

That makes me sound really sad, doesn't it?

If You Make A Nut Joke I Will Cut You

2008-05-27T21:51:00.003-04:00

I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight. This would not be significant if not for the fact that I am allergic to peanuts - all kinds of nuts for that matter - and have been told by my doctor not to eat them. It's not like I'll die or anything, my mouth just gets kind of itchy and sometimes I'll get hives. He said that the more I eat them the worse my reaction will eventually be, which I interpreted as "If you ever develop a death wish, just stock up on some Jiff!" You could say that I've been following my doctor's orders and eating peanut butter VERY rarely for the past few years if only so that I can avoid having an obituary that says, "Ally, 17, beloved daughter, sister and friend, died from eating a peanut butter sandwich late Sunday night." There's no way I'm dying from eating a fucking sandwich. Who am I, Mama Cass? There are cooler ways to die.

But I decided that, hey, screw it, life is short and rules are made to be broken and plus I really, really wanted a pb&j. So I took out a piece of bread and spread some grape jelly on it and then took extra care to spread just enough peanut butter so that it satisfies my craving but not so much that my throat closes up. Then I folded the piece of bread, took a deep breath and took the first bite.

Oh, the first bite. So heavenly. How could anyone not like peanut butter? Especially combined with the jelly on fluffy wonder bread.....mmmmm. I got such an adrenaline rush eating that forbidden sandwich that you would have thought I was doing something really terrifyingly exhilarating like, you know, jumping out of an airplane or racing cars not EATING A SANDWICH.

I wanted to savor each bite but I ended up wolfing the sandwich down with the mindset of, If I eat it really fast, maybe it'll be like I never ate it. And the universe (and my histamines) can just forget that this ever happened. Like how you think when you're little that if you can't see someone that they can't see you. This genius is often demonstrated during a game of hide and seek when the babysitter is forced to be all, "Where are you? I can't find you! I'm looking everywhere!" and meanwhile you're crouched down right beside the couch, your nose touching the carpet, your feet conspicuously sticking out from behind the couch.

Or like how a girl can't get pregnant if she's on top. Like, duh. That's just science.

Just FYI

2008-05-02T21:59:00.002-04:00

If I don't show up for SATs tomorrow or, you know, school on Monday then it's because I kidnapped this kid in the middle of the night all Raising Arizona style so that I could have his adorableness all to myself:

Things I Wish I Had The Opportunity To Say

2008-04-23T20:50:00.001-04:00

Drop it! FBI!

A Pulitzer? I'm flattered.

I come in peace.

Oh, thank you, but a standing ovation really isn't necessary. Please sit down, really, this is just too much, thank you.

I love you, too, Jude Law.

Yes, but do you have a flag?

2008-04-13T16:27:00.003-04:00

I am currently working on an assload of History homework and really, really wishing that Eddie Izzard was my History teacher. How I love him so.

(Du'Loque: You might particularly enjoy the third video since you're majoring in international relations and all.)

Meet My New Boyfriend

2008-04-01T21:08:00.002-04:00

I can't believe Brian actually asked me to prom. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

(Oh, and also don't forget to turn up the volume to get the full effect of my bf's sexy moves. Is it hot in here or is it just Brian?)

Step Away From The Computer...

2008-03-11T19:22:00.002-04:00

This week is going to be pretty insane and very busy for reasons that I do not feel like explaining right now because that would be tedious and time consuming but what I will tell you all is that I was up until 1 a.m. last night playing this game.

The game does not have instructions and I spent ~~a few~~ okay, like ten minutes trying to figure out what the hell the object of the game was. I am not, however, going to tell you how to play it right now because if I had to sit there scratching my head for an embarrassingly long amount of time then damnit, so will you. Do you think I'm just going to hold your hand and spoon feed you everything your whole life? Who am I, your mother? You're on your own on this one. I wish you luck.

Once you figure out how to play the game, you're probably going to be like, "What? This is so stupid. How could Ally have played this for like two hours last night?" And trust me, I see your point but you must understand that it is about so much more than just the game itself. It is about certain elements of this game, certain things that just amuse me beyond comprehension.

One of those things is the awesomely weird boppy Japanese semi-techno music in the background mostly because when I hear this music I imagine a cute little spiky-haired Japanese boy playing the keyboard. And he's the kind of kid who's serious about his keyboarding, you know? He nods his head as he hits the keys.

Another one of my favorite things about this game are the chirpy little Japanese exclamations in the background when something happens. My favorite one is the one the chick says when you start another level. Of course I don't speak Japanese and have no idea what the hell she's saying, but the more I hear it, the more I'm convinced that she's saying, "This game is sparkle!" And I have admit, I agree with hyper Japanese voice-over chick. This game really is sparkle.

One thing I don't understand, though, is why hyper Japanese voice-over chick insists on saying "Game Over" in English. I think she does it just to rub it in more. Like, not only am I going to flash a graphic in front of your face letting you know that you suck at a game involving ladybugs, but I am also going to shout it in your own language.

But my most favorite thing about the game are the ladybugs themselves. I find the variation in their energy levels quite humorous. Some of them are spinning around super fast like, "Yeah! Party time! I'm psyched! Let's do this!" and the other ones are spinning really slowly like, "Wow, I definitely shouldn't have had that last shot of tequila." I have the feeling that those ladybugs are the ones who are going to wake up in a strange room tomorrow and not know where the hell they are.

I guess I should mention that while I was playing this game last night I was also watching Law & Order: SVU, although "watching" is probably a strong word to use because if I had to describe to someone what happened during that show, it would be something like, "Um...well someone committed a crime...and then the detectives were like, 'We're gonna catch them!' and then they talked to some people and then there was a trial and then they talked to some more people THE END." The ladybugs, they are so distracting.

I don't think I realized how bad it had gotten until I found myself sitting on my bed with dark circles under my eyes and my fist raised in anger shouting, "DAMN YOU, LADYBUGS!" I then shut my laptop and forced myself to go to sleep. And then this afternoon as I was about to write this post, I opened up the game again and played it for twenty minutes.

These ladybugs have taken over my life. I think I may need an intervention.

One Of My Favorite PostSecrets Ever

2008-03-10T00:34:00.006-04:00

My cat knows all my secrets, too. Don't you, baby?

L-O-S-E-R

2008-03-09T12:44:00.001-04:00

My latest GrandCentral message from my friend Morrgan:

My response to your message, Morrgan?

Pretty Sure She's Going To Haunt My Dreams Tonight

2008-02-25T00:38:00.002-05:00

Okay, so the Oscars aired tonight for those of who live in a cave and there were quite a few surprises, particularly in the category of Best Supporting Actress which everyone had predicted to go to Cate Blanchett, but which ended up going to Tilda Swinton. I know that everyone had predicted the Oscar to go to Cate, by the way, because I am a total celebrity/Hollywood whore as anyone who knows me will tell you and when my People magazine arrives in my mailbox you can safely bet that I'll be sitting on my ass for the next two hours reading it cover to cover.

I adore Cate Blanchett and would have loved to seen her win, but it didn't completely bother me to see Tilda win because I truly do believe that Cate Blanchett is the next Meryl Streep and that she has many more years to add to her Oscar collection and also to wear really awesome dresses while looking all pregnant and glowy.

But anyway, back to Tilda. This woman is an enigma. I've always suspected that she was an eccentric, odd person but that feeling has been magnified ten times since reading this article. Also, she looks like a bug. Like one of those scary, stick-like ones that I always find in my shower in the summer and have to call my stepdad to kill.

But seriously. Read that article. You will not be disappointed. Not only were all my suspicions confirmed, but it also left me with a burning question, one I wish to be answered almost as much as how fax machines work: How does a woman who looks like Conan O'Brien manage to score a twenty something boytoy who travels the world with her and then is perfectly content to return home to her other lover who is also the father of her twins? Am I the only person whose mind is boggled by this?

[Side Note: I was originally going to post the article here and insert my witty comments because believe me, witty comments there are many, but it's late and I'm exhausted from having spent the last four hours staring at Jon Stewart and imagining what our babies would look like.]

I Sort Glass.

2008-02-21T00:38:00.001-05:00

My reaction this morning when I woke up at 6:20 and realized I only had ten more minutes to sleep was exactly (and audibly) this: "Noooooooooo!"

After being sick the past week and waking up at noon every day, it has been especially difficult to talk myself out of bed in the morning. But I somehow managed to get up and ready for school on time.

I don't know if it was because I wasn't quite awake yet or what, but for some reason I found Biology class quite entertaining which is odd because basically all we did was take notes the whole time. On things I know I will never be required to know in my life after the test, of course. I guess I might use this knowledge if I become a botanist or something, but that is so not happening and if for any reason that happens by mistake or I experience a momentary bout of insanity and voluntarily study plants for a living, then please, people, PLEASE, will someone just stab me in the eye with a giant poisonous thorn or something? And return me to my normal state of being? Seriously, I'd rather be a cycloptic writer than a two-eyed botanist. Or something like that.

Anyway, right now we're working on Punnett squares and labeling the genotypes and phenotypes except that when my teacher writes on the board she abbreviates them "Geno" and "Pheno" and is it just me or does that totally sound like the names of two balding, pot-bellied Italian brothers who own a pizza shop? Thank you, Biology teacher. NOW I WANT PIZZA. AT 9 AM.

Another term that amused me from today's notes is "tetrad", but I'm pretty sure that's only because it looks as though if you rearranged the letters it might spell "retard". (It doesn't. Close, though.) And I know that many people find "retard" and "retarded" to be politically incorrect terms, but, like Kathy Griffin, I think "retard" is a fun word and I'm going to say it anyway. Plus it's not like I only say it about other people; I refer to myself as "retarded" about ten times a day. Witness me nearly fall backwards when I lose my grip trying to open the ~~refridgerator~~ refrigerator (really? there's no 'd' in it?) door like I just did five minutes ago and trust me, you will not doubt my claim.

Today's Special Is My Friend With A Side Of French Fries

2008-01-30T16:43:00.001-05:00

Teacher [to class]: 1874 was referred to as a "grasshopper year" because of the severe infestation of grasshoppers on the Great Plains. They were inches deep on the ground and ate all the crops. The livestock ate so many grasshoppers during the infestation that even after the grasshoppers had left, people could not eat the cattle because it tasted like grasshoppers.

My friend [to me]: Does that mean I taste like hamburger? 'Cause I eat a lot of hamburgers.

I'm Back And Still Random

2008-01-26T22:57:00.000-05:00

I got a blog comment in my inbox today from Alex that said, "Ally! Seven whole days without a post?! This might be a record for you, what with your frequent updates and whatnot." And it was in reading that comment that I thought to myself 1) Holy shit, it's been seven whole days since I've posted and 2) I should probably do something about that and 3) Seven whole days? Seriously?

So here I am. Doing something about it.

First of all, let me just say that I really didn't intend for my little blogging hiatus to last that long. At first it just got started out of lack of motivation and inspiration and then I got sick and kind of even forgot that I was forgetting about this blog. But I'm back now and hope to update regularly again. And hey, at least my hiatus didn't last as long as my friend's. T...well, actually I'm not sure if she would care if I said her real name, so we'll just call her T. Or victracybendy. Or Whorey Mcwhoresalot. I'll let her decide. Either way, check out her newly-updated blog. She's a funny one, that girl. And one of my only sources of entertainment during study hall.

But anyway, back to this blog. I guess I should catch you guys up on what I've been thinking/reading/watching the past seven days. But before I move forward, I must warn you that the rest of this post is extremely random.

Okay, here we go!

BustedTees. I cannot even begin to tell you how amusing these t-shirts are to me. I really want this one. Oh, and this one for sure. And this one. Also, this one...

(Morgan: You totally need this one. And maybe this one, what with your ring tone and everything. Ha.)

Also, the last paragraph of this post on wwtdd made me laugh out loud, as usual. Brendon, the guy who writes the posts, is always hilarious. It's scary how addicted I am to that website. Like, "obsessively hitting the refresh button" addicted. "I think I need a pill" addicted.

I recently stumbled upon a video of a young Vanessa Paradis (former model, singer, actress and currently Johnny Depp's wife. Well, actually she may still be modeling and singing and acting, but who really cares anymore after you marry Johnny Depp? She could be on the cover of every magazine and win a Grammy, Golden Globe and Oscar all in the same year and every girl in the world would be all, "Oh, she won a Grammy this year? And an Oscar? Wow, that's impressive. Wait, and she's married to Johnny Depp? You mean that's the chick who stole Captain Jack Sparrow's heart and took him off the market and whisked him away to the South of France to live with their cute little kids and GOD I HATE HER."

But anyway.

She is absolutely adorable in this video mainly because she's a 15-year-old French girl and what 15-year-old French girl isn't adorable? That isn't my issue with the video. My issue with the video is her voice. I mean, there is "cute French girly pop" and then there is "scarily high-pitched and squeaky French girly pop." I half-expect her to morph into some Japanese anime character with a disproportionally large head and blue, spiky hair. Check it out for yourself:

I am currently watching The Amityville Horror on cable. The new one, not the one from the 70's. This one is so much better in my opinion because it has Ryan Reynolds in it and everything is better with Ryan Reynolds in it. The entire movie is basically him running around with his shirt off, gradually going insane and wielding an axe. He may be a crazy axe murderer about to slay his entire family, but goddamn that man is attractive. He can murder me shirtless anytime.

English Is Killing Me.

2008-01-17T21:40:00.000-05:00

Both the subject and the language.

I have my Honors English exam tomorrow and for the past few hours I have been pouring over my notes and our Norton Anthology of American Literature trying to remember the difference between John Edwards and Edward Taylor, the virtues in Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography, the metaphors used by the Fireside poets and the themes of the works of Rowlandson, Bradstreet, Byrd, etc. The only recurring theme I've come up with so far is that of me not giving a shit.

In other English language news, I have started to speak in abbreviations. I have noticed that this has become quite popular among my peers as of late as if the majority of 15-25 year olds held some kind of secret meeting in which they decided that if it can't be abbreved, it shouldn't be said. Whatever its origin, I am finding that it has slowly crept into my life and presented itself as my newest bad habit. I try to catch myself, but it's as if when people around me say them, they fly out of their mouths and into my brain where they bop around my head for a bit until it's time for them to pop back out again. It's like some sort of fucked-up grammar pinball game. With my head.

In case you don't know what kind of abbreviations I'm talking about, here are some examples:

Whatevs = Whatever
Seri = Seriously
Awk = Awkward
Hilar = Hilarious
OMG = Oh my god
BTW = By the way

I've even started to say "Bee tee dub" for "by the way." It's getting serious now. I'm not sure how to break this habit, like if there is a patch I could wear or a gum I could chew or a group I could join like Abbreviators Anonymous. "Hi, I'm Ally and I'm an abbreviator." I could get a special support pal I could call whenever I felt like I was about to abbreviate. They'd be all, "Repeat after me, Ally: Seriously. Seriously." And I'd be like, "Seri....seri....ously." And they'd be all, "Yay, Ally! You did it!"

Okay, but in all seriousness, I need to stop because I'm totes annoying myself. And the last thing I need is to go into some interview or something and say "omg". Because that would seri be awk for both parties involved.

I'm Not Dead, Either.

2008-01-16T16:25:00.000-05:00

Well, not physically at least. Mentally, maybe.

The explanation for my lack of postage lately is basically the exact same as Alex's. I had my first two exams today (Biology & U.S. History), tomorrow I have two more (Spanish 3 and Pre-Calculus) and Friday I have Honors English. So that's where my mind has been lately. Well, it's been other places, too, but I'll have to catch up on that front after exams.

For now, though, I just wanted to, like Alex, let everybody know that I'm not dead. Not yet at least. I may be by Friday at 10, though. If I make it until then. My brain cannot retain any more information, I tell you! It just can't!

But I promise to get back to regular posting this weekend. Unless my brain decides it's sick of memorizing battle outcomes and verb conjugations and pops right off my neck and starts bouncing down the street. Then maybe not.

Wait, head! Come baaaaaaaaaaaccckk!

Word To The Wise

2008-01-10T23:49:00.000-05:00

Don't walk out of the dark shadows of a dark room into a dark hallway in my house at midnight when I'm in walking down said hallway. My stepdad obviously didn't get the memo on this one because ten minutes ago that exact thing happened and I swear to god when I saw a six-foot tall man standing in front of me, a couple drops of pee came out. And I recently watched the new Rob Zombie remake of Halloween, so my first thought was that he was some Michael Myers-like serial killer out to exact some kind of revenge against me with a butcher knife. My stomach jumped up into my throat. It's seriously a good thing that I don't carry Mace around with me because I would have maced him. I nearly hit him with my history textbook.

Snippets From My Day

2008-01-07T19:03:00.000-05:00

Today we went to the library for Economics and whenever we do this, which is quite often, I spend a good portion of the time pretending that I'm retrieving papers from the printer when really I'm looking out through the large glass window embedded in the library wall behind the printers and spying on the first period dance class. Watching the male ballerina sashay around has quickly become my favorite pastime and every time I see him I am overwhelmed with the urge to to take him home and paint his nails and feed him cupcakes. Maybe then, after our little bonding session and with my newfound connection in the industry, I will finally be able to fulfill my dream of becoming a ballerina. Or not.

Also, is the new 2008 switchover messing with anyone else? I didn't write "08" the first time on any paper I wrote on all day. I would write "07" and then when I realized I had written "07" (usually a good twenty minutes after I initially wrote it, when I was spacing out and staring blankly at my notes at a particularly dull point in a lecture) I would immediately yet discreetly rush to correct it to avoid drawing too much attention to just how slow I catch on to things, but the thing is that whenever you try to change one letter or number to another letter or number, it never ends up looking like how you thought it would look in your head. Like, when I set out to change the 7 I wrote to an 8, I could not fathom that in a mere two minutes it would look like some sort of deranged version of Big Bird. Did not see that one coming.

Some quotables from today:

[In study hall, asking my friend, who is sitting on the edge on my desk, for help with pre-cal homework]
Her: So you move it up 1 and over 4.
Me: I had that and then I erased it. Maybe I get this more than I thought I did.
Her: Yeah, it looks like you don't need me.
Me: No, don't leave. I need you. You're like my calculator: I don't really need you, but I feel more confident when you're on my desk.
Her: That's my favorite thing that anyone's ever said to me.

My friend: I never remember to take off my makeup before I go to swim practice, so I'll get out of the pool and my mascara will be dripping down my face and some little kid will come up to me and be like, "What's wrong with your face?" and I'll be like, "I don't know, what's wrong with your face?"

[after pre-cal class]
Me: Would you mind looking up what my grade is as of right now? I'm just curious to know what I need to get on this test so I get a B on my report card.
Teacher [looking at grade book]: Um..yeah...sure...85.
Me: I have an 85 or I need an 85 to maintain my 85?
Teacher: What?
Me: What?
Teacher: [hard-to-read stare]
Me:......do you think I'll end up with a B on my report card?
Teacher: Yeah, you should be fine.
Me: Okay, then. That's all I care about.
Teacher: [same hard-to-read stare]
Me: Yeah, I'm an overachiever.

Best. Commercials. Ever.

2008-01-05T14:32:00.000-05:00

My favorite is the one with the couple walking on the beach. If it were up to me, all commercials would have punch lines.

She was like, "You're a B-I-T-C-H, BITCH." And I was like, "No, you're the bitch, BITCH."

2008-01-04T16:50:00.000-05:00

Thought you bitches might enjoy this. I did. And I especially like the classic putdowns from famous women at the bottom. I've always been quite fond of Bette Davis quotes, as you can see. Oh, and I am so renting The Women at my next Blockbuster run. It just sounds so dishy and bitchy and wonderful.

Also, the first person to identify the movie that the title quote came from gets a present from me! (Okay, not really, because most of you don't even live in the same state as me, but whatever. I still it's fun. You get kudos and applause from me, how's that? And admiration for the fact that you also enjoy stupid, immature comedies. *hint, hint*)

Ah, Research...

2008-01-02T17:24:00.000-05:00

This afternoon I went to the library at the Virginia Historical Society to continue my research for my term paper. While I sat there and leafed through yellowing documents from the 1800s, my mom flipped through this month's Vogue. We sat near an elderly man (he had to be at least 80) wearing thick glasses and an ancient tweed suit, who had even more papers and books and index cards in front of him than I did.

After about an hour, I start getting frustrated with the article I was reading and all my note card taking and I turn to my mom and I'm all, "Ugh, these sentences are like a page long. I don't even know how I'm going to fit them on one note card." And my mom glances at the old man and then looks at me and my research splayed in front of me and goes, "You know, he started that 60 years ago. He used to be young and vibrant like you."

And I'm like, "Yeah, I think he was actually around back then. He's reading the journal he kept in his youth and reminiscing about the good ol' days."

Control, P, Print! Control, P, Print!

2008-01-01T15:35:00.000-05:00

I can't seem to get my printer to print anything, which, as I'm sure you all know, is immensely frustrating. I was going to rant about it, but I know I'll never be able to top Eddie Izzard's encore about his printer troubles from his Glorious tour. It's a seven minute video and the whole thing is quite funny, but the last three minutes are completely hysterical. And it captures exactly how I have felt many times in my life. Enjoy!

Things I Don't Understand

2007-12-28T15:58:00.000-05:00

What the hell Marc Jacobs was thinking when he designed these

How anyone manages to have sex in an airplane bathroom. I can't even pee in there without kneeing myself in the face.

Why my cousin likes to eat bologna and cheese sandwiches with tartar sauce. In his defense, he mistook the tartar sauce for mayonnaise, but still. He chose to eat it and said it was good. If it were me, I would have taken one bite, realized it was not mayonnaise, and thrown that sandwich in the trash faster than you can say "ohmygodthatissogroooooooossss."

Most of the articles in Vanity Fair

Why I must go back to school next Thursday and take exams in two weeks. Why, I ask you. Why? WHY??

Maybe You And Yourself Should Get A Room

2007-12-27T14:24:00.000-05:00

[In the car the other day]
Me [in the passenger seat, next to my mom]: Hey, I think your wallet just fell in between the seat and the cup holders. Hang on a sec, I'll get it.
[I reach in between the seat and the console thing and grab a bit of her coat while trying to retrieve the wallet]
Mom: Um, is that your hand in my pocket or am I just happy to see myself?

Holiday Wish

2007-12-26T19:43:00.000-05:00

This video is pretty hilarious. Steve Martin is one of my favorite people on the planet.

And I didn't say it earlier, so I'll say it now: Happy Holidays, everyone!

Tough Love

2007-12-26T18:35:00.000-05:00

[In Saks today]

Me: That girl doesn't have the right body to wear skinny jeans.
My brother: That girl doesn't have the right face to, like, exist.

I Love Statcounter Vol. 2

2007-12-23T21:11:00.000-05:00

Here is a new list of amusing phrases that people enter into Google that lands them on one of my posts:

how do i unlock my locker
make them my friend spells
miss muffet porn
things that amuse the husband and wife together
playing with people's faces
i have too much boob
girlfriend suck on my ovary

and my personal favorite....

naughty fun with mayonnaise

I mean, seriously. What was the person thinking who typed in "naughty fun with mayonnaise"? And how disappointed were they when they landed on this blog? And more importantly, why did they land on this blog?

But I really am curious to know what they were planning to do with that mayonnaise. I don't imagine it would be all that pleasurable to lick mayonnaise off of someone. Or spread it on, for that matter. Actually, I really don't think I'd like to have naughty fun with any kind of condiment.

I can kind of understand the whole whipped cream and chocolate sauce thing because at least they're sweet, but eating mayonnaise plain is just gross. I mean, honestly, who dips a spoon in to a jar of mayonnaise and just eats it? Eeeew.

I'll bet you a hundred bucks that a southern man typed that phrase into Google. I can totally see a redneck guy walking into a bar in hicktown, USA and going up to his buddies and bragging about his ingenius plan to have some naughty fun with mayonnaise. I imagine it would go something like this:

Note: Must be read with very thick Southern accents. Think "Deliverance."

Redneck guy [holding jar of mayonnaise]: Hey, y'all! Guess what?! Guess what I'ma do tonight?
His friends: What?
Redneck guy: I'ma take this here mayonnaise and rub it all over Tiffany and then lick it offa her! It'll be like a Tiffany sammich!
Friend #1: Man, Bubba, you really outdone yourself this time.
Friend #2: Yeah, man. That's sexy. And tasty.
Friend #3: I wish I'd thunk of that. How'd you come up with it?
Redneck guy: Well, you know that big buildin' in town with all the books in it?
His friends: Yeah...
Redneck guy: Well, there are these gray boxes in there that have these things called "the internets" inside them and when you type things in to the typewriter part at the bottom, the thing you want pops up!
Friend #1: Well, dang, man. I gotta go type somethin' into one of them boxes...maybe I can spread some mustard on Crystal tonight or somethin'....

Someone please take me to the north. Take me somewhere far, far away from here...

Christmas To Me

2007-12-22T15:47:00.000-05:00

Christmas, to me, is The Nutcracker.

I went to go see it last night with a group of my friends, which was a ton of fun. The dance teacher at my school actually danced the role of the Sugarplum Fairy, so we got good seats. It was cool because we were close to the stage and at an angle so that I could sort of see backstage and watch all the dancers mess with their feet and practice and stretch.

I just love The Nutcracker. Getting dressed up. Wearing pearls. Seeing little girls in velvet dresses and patent leather Mary Janes with bows in their hair, clutching their Clara dolls.

My friend and I overheard one little girl tell another, "You know, there are going to be a lot of grown-ups here tonight because little girls aren't allowed to go to The Nutcracker without their mommies."

It was so cute, I nearly died right there in the middle of the lobby.

The only downside to sitting so close was that when the dancers landed I could actually hear their feet go thump! and that ruined the gracefulness and elegance a bit. It took away from the image that I have of ballerinas, that they glide around soundlessly and occasionally snack on colored, whipped air while being carried around on some very gay yet very handsome male ballerina's shoulders.

Don't ruin that image for me, people. Ballerinas are not human. They are not born. They float down from the clouds - full grown - and immediately begin their Nutcracker training. Seriously. I'd like to have them checked for belly buttons.

Of course, the Sugarplum Fairy was a teacher at my school, so I suppose that she's human, although I have yet to actually speak to her, or check her torso for that matter, so my theory may still prove to be true. I'll have to get back to you on that one.

I think I am going to go listen to the Nutcracker soundtrack and bake a cake. Because that is as "holidays" as I get.

More later.

I Shed.

2007-12-13T19:08:00.000-05:00

I'm not quite sure why, but somehow my hair always manages to get all over everything: my shirts, my jackets, my friends' shirts, my friends' jackets...

I just shed all over everything. And everyone. My brother teases me that I need to get some Rogaine, which by the way, Dee, is not funny. Not funny at all. I would seriously recommend not making fun of me because there are boxes and boxes of embarrassing naked childhood pictures of you in this house at my disposal. Sure, there are plenty of me, too, but I've come to terms with the fact that I looked like a garden gnome when I was two. I don't even find those pictures of me as a pocket-sized toddler with a bad bowl haircut and awful early '90s wardrobe embarrassing anymore. It's taken a while, but I've finally reached that place.

Anyway, back to the shedding issue.

You know on shows like CSI or Law & Order when they find a hair at a crime scene and they're sure that it's an incriminating piece of evidence that will identify the suspect so they run a DNA test and it turns out that it’s actually not the perp’s DNA and now they won't find out who committed the crime because it turned out to be some random person's DNA?

Yeah, that was my DNA.

Too. Much. Work.

2007-12-12T16:07:00.000-05:00

I've decided that I want to drop out of my highschool and go to one of those hippie schools were all you do is like interpret your dreams and take naps on woven mats and light incense while you talk about your feelings and play the triangle or the tambourine in a band in which you sing about nature and the beauty of the spirit and take classes like “movement” where the teacher would say things like, “Be a tree. Become a tree. You are the tree.” And then I would lift my arms above my head and stretch really tall and wiggle my fingers and be all, “Hey, look, I’m a tree!” and she would be like, “Yes, Ally, that is excellent. You are a tree. You get an A+ on this assignment.” Except that she wouldn’t actually say that because this school doesn’t give out grades because that only separates us instead of bringing us together as a community and infringes on our freedom to be the beautiful thinkers and beautiful people that we are.

So I guess I kind of want to be a member of the Von Trapp family. Except without Julie Andrews because she always annoyed the shit out of me. Thirty seconds into that god awful “The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music” song and I would be telling her where she could shove those hills.

I'm What You Might Call An "Indoor Girl".

2007-12-11T18:07:00.000-05:00

We've been reading and discussing Ralph Waldo Emerson in English class for the past few days and I have to admit, it's not as terrible as I thought it would be. Not that I hate classic literature or anything, but when my teacher mentioned that we would be studying Transcendentalism in 19th century literature, I didn't exactly jump for joy. But as I was reading "Nature" by Emerson last night, I found some quotes that I really liked:

"If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these preachers of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile."

"The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are always inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression when the mind is open to their influence."

"For, nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit."

But as much as I like those quotes, Mother Nature has seriously been pissing me off lately. One second it's snowing here and the next second it's 70 degrees. I'm not even exaggerating. And I have asthma, so severe changes in weather is not a good thing. It makes me wheeze and make sounds that, to quote Morgan, sound like "one of those people in scary movies who walk around in dark caves and make scary sounds." Thanks for comparing me to the crypt keeper, Morgan. That really lifted my spirits.

So yeah, Mother Nature and I have not been getting along lately.

But then again, I have, on more than one occasion, said that I would rather jab myself in the eyeball or shove bamboo shoots up my nails than go outside for more than two minutes, so maybe I kind of had this one coming.

I Still Love You, Karen. No Worries.

2007-12-10T20:04:00.000-05:00

My stepdad recently got a new GPS navigator thing for his car, one of those ones that talks to you. It comes with a feature that allows you to change the accent of the woman who speaks to you. My stepdad chose for her to be Australian and to name her Karen.

Why Australian, you ask? Well, I asked the same question, because it seems very random, and the only answer I could get was that he liked Australian accents. Whatever.

So anyway I get in the car this morning and my stepdad mentions this new GPS thing and the fact that Karen speaks to him in Australian. So of course I'm all, "Oh my god, I have to hear this." So I put in my school's address, sit back, and wait for the amusing results.

But, disappointingly enough, the results were not as amusing as I thought they would be. I mean, when I heard Karen was Australian, I expected something a bit more colorful and interesting. I of course knew that she would give out the necessary directions, but I thought she might throw in a "Crikey!" every now and then or a "Ya catch what I'm sayin', mate?" Or maybe some helpful warnings like, "Take a left turn - and watch out for that 'roo!" or "As you approach this exit, stay clear of the dingo!"

But, sadly, there was no Australian lingo used. *tear*

My stepdad said that he liked taking a different route and throwing her off because then for the next few minutes she'd just say, "Recalculating....recalculating...recalculating..." And you've got to admit: it's fun messing with a robot.

At one point during the ride, "What Goes Around..." by Justin Timberlake came on the radio (I love that song!) while Karen was in the middle of directing us to our destination and I was all, "Shut up, Karen!" and my stepdad was like, "Do you want me to turn Karen off?" and I was like, "No, I like Karen."

We have a love/hate relationship, Karen and me. Mostly love, though. Mostly love.

Probably More Insane Than Normal

2007-12-09T23:18:00.000-05:00

I recently received this comment from fellow blogger Rayn e:

I wonder. Is there something that automatically makes other people cooler in the eyes of the public? Was I cursed with the 'unpopular' gene? Because I've been blogging since February (2007) and I am pretty sure no one reads my blog. Therefore I bow down to your amusing-ness and beg to ask...HOW do people manage to make normality combined with insanity sound interesting? Because I write. A lot. And all I can seem to do is depress people with the sad, sad truth.
Help?

Rayne,

First of all, I must say that "normality combined with insanity" is just about the most accurate way I have ever heard anyone describe my writing. Or me, for that matter. So thanks for that.

Alright, now for the hard part: answering your question. I can't actually guarantee that I will, but I'm going to try my best.

You asked how people make normality combined with insanity sound interesting, interesting enough that people want to read and respond to your writing. So, if I'm not mistaken, what you're essentially asking is how a writer manages to reach a nice balance between "normality" and "insanity". Because, as I think we both know, too much of either is not pretty.

Let's take, for example, the post that you commented on, the one in which I ranted about the difficulties I have with the lock on my locker at school. I could have written something completely mundane, boring and "normal". Something like this:

The lock on my locker at school has been driving me crazy lately. It never opens when I want it to, which is a pretty major problem when I have two minutes to get to class and I really need my Spanish workbook.

There's nothing particularly wrong with that, but I also bet that 9 out of 10 people who stumbled upon a post like that wouldn't return to the blog. Not because it's terribly written or anything, but because most highschoolers could probably write those two sentences. There's nothing special about it, no humor or insight. Most people would probably just read that and be like, "Yeah, well join the club. What's your point?"

So back to your question. You want to know what compels people to comment on certain people's blogs and not others. You want to know what makes a person want to come back. And the answer to that, in my opinion, is that the person needs to get something out of that blog that they don't get anywhere else. Or at least that they don't get many other places. I'm not saying that the writing has to be hysterical. It doesn't. It doesn't even have to be funny. But, for me personally, a blog has to be funny, insightful or well-written to make me want to come back. Or all three, preferably.

Some writers just seem to master that combination between normality and insanity better than others. David Sedaris is a great example. (NOT that I am comparing myself to writers like David Sedaris. Not even close. Just trying to use some examples here.) But he can write a short story about shit - literally - and leave you running up to your friends like, "Oh my god, have you read this story about shit? Because it's awesome!"

You mentioned that you feel like all you do is "depress people with the sad, sad truth." Well, first of all, I've read your blog and I have to disagree with you on that one. There's a lot of it that isn't depressing at all and that is actually lighthearted and funny. I mean, even your descriptions of that list of acronyms made me laugh. So you can definitely do it. (One suggestion I would make, though, is to maybe make the font on your blog a little bigger. Maybe it's just the settings on my computer or something, but the type is kind of tiny and makes it rather difficult for me to read your witty posts.)

But I definitely don't believe a writer should change their style or voice for their readers. If you tend be pessimistic, then don't suddenly write about how the glass is half full all the time. Because there are definitely other pessimists out there. And optimists. Whatever you are, however you write, there are bound to be people who are going to want to read it. There are many different kinds of "-ists".

I almost said, "write something people can relate to", but then I caught myself. Because I read so many blogs written by people that I can't really relate to. Take Stephanie Klein's blog, Greek Tragedy, for example. I've been reading that blog for years, yet we have almost nothing in common. She's a thirty-something mother of twins who lives in Austin, Texas. Only a few years ago she was living the life of a single woman in Manhattan, writing about dates and girlfriends and life in the city. I started reading her blog when she was in that stage and have been reading ever since, even through her marriage and move to Texas. Which sounds weird, I know. I mean, it's hard enough to relate to a successful business woman/single party-girl Manhattanite, but a married mother of two babies in Texas? Why would I read that blog?

The answer is that I read Greek Tragedy because Stephanie Klein has a unique voice, a unique way of saying things that for some reason I am drawn to. One second she's writing about girl stuff and holiday decorations and the next she's making some sincere, insightful life observation. Earlier this year when doctors diagnosed her son with hydrocephaly and he was in the hospital multiple times, I checked her blog even more than usual. I felt genuinely sad for her and wanted to not only see how things would pan out but also how she would respond to it all. It's sad to admit, but I kind of feel like I know her. Not to sound creepy or anything, I mean I know I don't know her, but I care at least on some level about her life, more than I would about just some random person's website that I stumbled upon.

I enjoy reading her writing, which when it comes down to it, is the reason anyone reads the blogs that they do. For whatever reason, they feel like that writing adds something to their life. Maybe (probably) not profoundly, but even if it just makes them laugh or look at something in a different way, then they feel it is worth their time. And in today's world, it's all about what's worth our time. Because we have a million things TiVoed that we've been meaning to watch and Christmas presents to buy and on top of that a bunch of History homework to do.

So I guess, boiled down and concentrated and smooshed into a tiny ball, my answer is this: write what you want to write, what you feel like writing in that moment, and if you want other people to enjoy it and give you feedback, then put yourself in their shoes. If you were someone else and you happened upon that post, what would get out of it? Is it well-written? Funny? Insightful? Would you want to say anything in response?

Or, you could be like me and write without caring whether people will like it or not. Of course, I love it when people read and respond. It's fun to come home and have blog comments in my inbox. But I'm not writing this blog for other people. I'm writing this blog because I have fun doing it and because I love the idea that one day when it really matters to me, I will have a record of this time in my life. It forces me to write frequently. And I love the idea that I'll be able to see the evolution of my writing.

Anyway, I hope that answered your question. It is purely my opinion, though, so just take it as that and not as a universal truth or anything. I mean, I'm probably not the person you should even be asking about this seeing as my reader count is pitiful compared to some other blogs that I read and also because I have a bunch of returning readers who never comment. (I have Statcounter. You can run, people, but you can't hide.) So I'm flattered that you chose to ask me that question. If you have any more, feel free to ask. And keep commenting. (That goes for everyone. Not just Rayne.) I love comments of any kind, but especially in question form.

It's Not A Haiku, Chill Out.

2007-12-06T17:48:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow at school we get a tag day (a really queer catholic school way of saying that we can wear our normal clothes instead of our uniforms) if we bring in a poem for the school's literary magazine. It kind of amuses me because the posters around the school reminding people about this tomorrow say "NO HAIKUS!" Because if haikus were allowed, everybody would be in regular clothes tomorrow after turning in something like:

Functions are so gay
I despise pre-cal homework
Dude, seriously

(Aside to Morgan: I'm thinking that Mrs. Pre-cal teacher is going to find it a little bit suspicious when I turn in that worksheet tomorrow and the first half is done perfectly and the second half looks as though it was done was someone with a mental handicap. I'm seriously at the point where I just feel like writing in big lettering in crayon over the entire second half, "ME NO GET THIS!")

But anyway, since I obviously can't turn in that pre-calculus poetic masterpiece, I think I'm going to turn in a poem that I recently submitted to the Nancy Thorp Poetry Contest sponsored by Hollins University. It's about something I know a little bit about: procrastination. Ask anyone who knows me and they will say that I am a huge procrastinator. That's actually how this blog started.

I had never really written poetry until a few weeks ago when I wrote this one. Unless you count that one I wrote in 3rd grade about foam. (Don't ask.) Oftentimes I had poetry in the back of my mind when I was writing something, thinking, "Wow, this would make a good poem," but I just never followed through and wrote it down. Sometimes I would come up with phrases or even whole stanzas in my head, but they never really went anywhere. Or, I guess I should say, I never really did anything with them. You might be asking yourself why I would enter a poetry contest if I didn't write poetry, and I asked myself that question, too, but I'm interested in possibly attending the school that sponsors it and also because I figured, why the hell not, I have nothing to lose and prizes to possibly gain.

So anyway, when I sat down to write this poem, I went through a bunch of brainstorming sessions about different things I could write about, but in the end, I felt like not only would it be better for me to write about something that I have experienced first hand many times, but also something that the judges (the students and the professors in the creative writing program at the school) can relate to. I mean, all writers have, at some point, stared at a blank piece of paper, had trouble deciding to what to write, and then decided to put off the writing for a bit. Because oh my god, Grey's Anatomy's on.

So anyway, here goes:

Procrastination

The cursor on the blank screen mocks me
standing willing and erect
like a general ready to lead his troops into battle
waiting for my directions
impatiently

If I were to write of childhood adventures
of boys being boys
it would swing off a tree and into a lake
and hit the water with a
smack

If I were to write of adolescent angst
of boyfriend drama and girl talk
it would follow me into the cafeteria
through the social hierarchy
to the popular girls' table

If I were to write of a summer romance ended
of Cape Cod and cool, clear water
rough grains of sand on my skin
and your soft breath on my neck
it would follow me home
alone

My nail polish is chipped
and not the right shade for this season
and while I'm at it my toes need some work
then I'll be ready to guide my cursor
because everyone knows you write better
when your nails are painted

This chair is uncomfortable
too hard and wooden
my friend has a softer one
with a gray cushion that I will borrow
and swing in when I'm thinking
of where I want to guide my cursor

A new episode is on
my favorite television show
with my luck it will never replay
and I will never know
if Jessica gets the promotion or if
Jack wakes from his coma

It's only sixty minutes
hardly any time at all, really
and plus my mind could use a break
from all this vigorous thinking
I will promptly return
to my comfortable gray chair
as soon as the credits roll
ready to guide my cursor

I need to focus
I say to the heartthrob tacked on my wall
his chocolate brown eyes fixed in an intense gaze
I'll bet he's off at some hotspot
with an even hotter starlet
as I sit here swinging in my comfortable chair
staring at my painted nails
they'll break up in two weeks
and I'll still be sitting here
thinking of where to guide my cursor

I could write of any of these things
but lunch table cliques are cliche
I've never been to Cape Cod
and I've never exhibited my testosterone
by catapulting myself into a lake

I have, however, stared at this cursor
winking at me
like a guy who tries too hard
with bad pick-up lines
who needs a breath mint
and probably more of a life

Well, here's my response
I think as the words
march across the screen
like tiny black ants
The cursor on the blank screen mocks me...

I also submitted a second poem that I don't like as much, but I figured if a contest gives you the opportunity to submit two poems, you might as well take it. I got the inspiration for it from a book I read about a year ago and loved. It's called The Uses of Enchantment by Heidi Julavits. I was looking for a book recently and came across this one and was reminded of what a great book it was. And I've always loved the image on the cover. (Morgan: if you haven't decided on a book yet for our "open choice" book club thing next month, I highly recommend this one. Except the ending is ambiguous, which I know is going to annoy you. Just letting you know up front.) Okay, here's this one:

Beautiful and Complicated

Just as the rain subsides, she lingers
outside the gate. Purposefully, she
reaches down into her knee sock for her
lighter. Removing the cigarette hidden
at the bottom of her shirt pocket, she
brings the lighter to her mouth, leaning
against the wet brick wall as she watches
the embers burn.

There is nothing complicated about her
beauty, her symmetrical features, silky
blonde hair and the galaxy of freckles
sprinkled across her nose. She does not
deny her gentle allure and quiet power
as she follows the man's eyes (for one
last time) skimming over the surface of
her body, like a boy skipping stones over
a lake, never stopping long enough to
arouse suspicion, never stopping long
enough for it to matter.

She wonders who is being more of
a tease as she picks at her cuticles
and takes one last drag of her cigarette.
She hugs her prep school sweater tighter
to her chest as she saunters over to the man's car.
She leans into the car window
and suddenly the windshield wipers
scream so loudly, she wonders if he will
hear her when she answers him.

Beautiful and complicated would be her
response if she were ever asked to describe
herself in two words. But she would never
answer a question like that.

Don't Make Me Trade You And Get Another Lock. Don't Make Take That Step.

2007-12-05T17:00:00.000-05:00

I was walking down the hall at my school yesterday behind a group of freshman and bitching to my friend about the fact that the lock on my locker has a menstrual cycle and the negative effects of its menstrual cycle on my life, when a couple of the freshman turned around started laughing at me. And then they rounded a corner and walked off and I was all, "Um...I hope they were laughing with me and not at me..."

Okay, maybe I was being a little too loud with my bitching, but there is no denying the fact that my lock has hormonal issues. Sometimes it's perfectly fine, just hangin' there being its normal, happy, lock-y self, letting me open it whenever I want. But other times I will walk up to it - perfectly nicely and with no offending comments or gestures - and it will have the nerve to NOT OPEN. Like I dared to enter my combination and attempt to use the lock for the purpose it was made for: to open things. And then after a good two minutes of petting it and telling it it's beautiful, it reluctantly gives in with a shrug of, "Fine, I'll let you open me, but don't expect me to be happy about it."

Sometimes my lock will be perfectly fine in the morning, but then not budge in the afternoon. As if something terrible happened to it between 4th and 7th period and how dare I disturb it in this fragile state of mind?

Now, don't get me wrong, it is not always the lock's fault when it won't open. Sometimes I stupidly try to maintain a coherent conversation while simultaneously trying to unlock my lock and that's never pretty. In fact, it usually goes a little something like this:

Friend: So then he was like, "Well, then we'll just hang out Saturday," and I was like, "Whatever."
Me [fiddling with my lock]: Yeah, the blue ones are like that sometimes.
Friend: What?
Me: Huh?
Friend: What?
Me: I didn't say anything.
Friend: But you-
Me [yanking on lock]: Dammit, lock! Open! GOD.
[pause]
Me: I'm sorry, what were you saying?

But most of the time, it is not my fault and if I had a dollar for every time I told my lock to go pop a Midol, I'd be a millionaire. But since that hasn't been helping much except maybe to release my pent-up aggression towards it, I've been coming up with alternative ideas to help my situation lately. Like maybe I should give my lock a copy of "Are you there, God, it's me, ~~Margaret~~ Ally's lock?" Or one of those American Girl sponsored ones with titles like "Your Body And You" with all the diagrams and shit. Just something - anything - to help it through its hormonal issues. Seriously, lock, I'm at the end of my rapidly fraying rope and am resorting to desperate measures, as these are desperate times, so could you please just work with me here because I NEED MY SPANISH WORKBOOK.

Things That Amuse Me Vol. 3

2007-12-04T16:35:00.000-05:00

I was in the frozen food section the other day at the grocery store and I noticed that the frozen food people are now marketing kids' meals to make it sound like when you eat them, you go on some kind of magical escapade to a faraway land. One box that I saw was called "Deep Sea Adventure." And I was like, um, when did eating some frozen fish sticks suddenly make you Jacques Cousteau?

In Pre-calculus we're learning about the "minima" and "maxima" of a function, but all I think of when my teacher talks about that is how much those sounds like names of seductive, scantily-clad twins from a Playboy channel movie, twins that will take you along on their erotic journey for the low price of $4.95...

"I hope one of the Olsen twins overdoses soon so I can stop guessing." - comedian Daniel Tosh

Morgan [lying her head down on a table in Biology]: I see two of you.
Me: Oh, do you have that eye thing where you see double sometimes when you lie down? I have that. God, what's that called? I can't remember. Stig...stigma...
Morgan: Stigmata?
Me: Yes, I have holy wounds. No, not stigmata.
Katie: Astigmatism?
Me: Yes! Astigmatism. Thank you. Do you have that?
Morgan: No, I'm just looking at your reflection in the table.
Me: Oh. Right. I knew that.

Good Times.

2007-12-01T22:15:00.000-05:00

I went shopping today with my brother in Carytown, which for those of you who don't live in Richmond is several blocks in the city lined with cool little local shops. We didn't buy anything - well, unless nachos count - but we had fun anyway. And I took a bunch of funny pictures:

Dee was like, "Oh my god, you HAVE to take a picture of this. It's the best cover of this book I've ever seen." It is pretty awesome.

I had to take a picture of this because one of my friends is like in love with Edgar Allan Poe, so I knew she would appreciate this.

And how great is this Edgar Allan Poe onesie?

When I have a kid, I'm totally making it wear Jon Stewart t-shirts. He'll be like, "Who's the man on my shirt, mommy?" and I'll be like, "The man who should have been president instead of Bush, that's who."

This is one of those lion statues that's supposed to be "guarding" the store or whatever but it totally didn't look menacing once a person stuck a Ritz cracker in its mouth. Now it just looks like it's playing that "seafood" game. Like, "Hey, do you like seafood? Well, seeeee foooooood!"

Dee: I don't know what that ornament's supposed to be, but it looks a moldy peach pit.

Dee: I like the purple nutcracker the best. He's the most pimp.

Dee: I know that's supposed to be a pomegranate, but it totally likes an alien birth pod.

And then Dee had to go and take a picture of this sketchy crackly chick. I don't like sketchy crackly people.

I really want this curtain, not because it's necessarily an amazing curtain or anything, but because it's called a "Whooshi."

Me: What's up with the chick with the wings on her boobs? That's so weird. I don't want my boobs to fly.
Dee: Fly, titties! Flyyyyy!

Another wonderfully skanky window display and my amused reflection in the window.

And now for the best part: the videos. And, no, Dee, I didn't put these up on YouTube, so when people search your name they won't find you singing a song about premature ejaculation. Which is probably a good thing. But seriously that was so funny - everything today was so funny - that my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much. So here's two very small examples:

And dancing around to a godawful 90's pop song in a store:

People With Perfect Faces Shouldn't Play Contact Sports

2007-11-26T15:15:00.000-05:00

I stayed up until 11:30 last night watching the Patriots beat the Eagles in a very close game. It's one of the few times I've actually sat down and watched football. One reason, of course, was that Tom Brady was playing and that is reason enough to declare the Patriots my official team and vow to never miss a game. But another reason - a harder one to admit, actually - is that after years of people attempting to explain the game to me and failing miserably, I finally understand it now. And -*in a whisper voice*- I actually kind of enjoy watching it.

But even though I understand them now, some of the rules still get on my nerves. Like who came up with the "false start" rule? It's so queer. It's like, "Somebody moved! Five yard penalty!" Although the more I think about it, that's actually the kind of rule I could get behind. If I were a referee I'd be like, "Tom, what are you doing? Stop moving. I can't see you amid the blur of helmets and tight pants. Step away from the team. Just stand there and look hot. Don't move."

We Had Fun, Oscar And Me

2007-11-25T17:53:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned in the last post, we babysat (catsat?) for my next door neighbor's new kitten, Oscar, over Thanksgiving while they were away. I had a little photo shoot with Oscar because, I mean really, how can you resist that face? Here are my favorites (oh and by the way, our next door neighbors are in their seventies, so that explains the decor):

I'm thinking about sending this one into Lolsecretz:

And here's a video of me chasing Oscar around the house. He's so speedy, that little guy! And also, I realize that I sound completely retarded in this video, but when I'm around cute things, I start talking in baby talk and stating the obvious, like, "Look, you're upside down!" It's like, yeah, no shit. Anyway, here it is:

I'm off to my grandmother's for the night! More tomorrow.

I've Accepted The Fact That I'm Going To Hell.

2007-11-20T20:00:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is a "tag day" at my school, which is basically a weird way of saying that we can wear our normal clothes instead of our uniforms. We have them about once a month for various reasons. This time, if we bring in three canned goods for a food bank in honor of Thanksgiving, in return we get the "privilege" that 90% of high school students already get: to wear jeans and t-shirts to school. But since our uniforms consist of pleated plaid skirts, white button down shirts and clunky, brown shoes, tag days are pretty exciting. Except that I have no idea what to wear. I got a really cute black tank top at Target recently that I want to wear but it has spaghetti straps and we're not allowed to wear spaghetti straps unless we cover them up with something else because my school is Catholic and conservative and the administration is queer. I mean, it's all girls, who am I hitting on? Oooh, I'm showing shoulder skin! What ever will my female classmates think?!

I'll probably just end up throwing a black blazer over it, but that's so 9-5, you know? I don't want to look professional, I want to look cute. I hate school rules sometimes. Plus Mary Magdalene was totally a whore, so whatever. Screw that.

Only one half day left of school before break! Hell yes!

More tomorrow.

If Only They Had Paternity Tests Back In The Day When The Founding Fathers Kept Knocking Up Their Slaves And Denying It

2007-11-19T21:38:00.000-05:00

We were recently assigned a research paper in History that must be on some topic relating to "Antebellum Society Through The Guilded Age In America." We're supposed to figure out what we want to write about over Thanksgiving break, but I already found my topic today when we had some free time in Economics. I had a vague idea that I wanted to write about how women reacted to the issues of the time through writing, but the details were foggy. So I Googled a bit and found an awesome book on the subject called "Belles Gone Bad." As in, Southern Belles who fought the political and social systems at that time.

From the moment I read the phrase "Belles Gone Bad", I knew I had found my topic. It just sounds so deliciously scandalous like an episode of Jerry Springer plantation style, that I imagine would go something like this:

Announcer: Today on Jerry Springer: Plantation....BELLES GONE BAD!

Jerry: Now, please explain to everyone why you've come here today.

Husband: My wife is out of control. OUT OF CONTROL, JERRY!

Jerry: Okay, sir, calm down. Why do you say she's out of control?

Husband: She's been sneaking out at night and going over to another plantation. I know she be messin' around with another planter! I saw her out by the lake with him...reading anti-slavery pamphlets!

Jerry: Okay, well we're going to bring your wife out now to hear what she has to say.

[Wife walks out on stage and walks up to husband confrontationally. They begin to scream at each other.]

Audience: Hit her with the rocking chair! Hit her with the rocking chair!

Jerry: Wait, wait a minute! Everybody calm down, here.

Husband: Alright, Jerry, I'll try to talk to my wife civilly. [Takes a deep breath and turns to wife.]
Woman, you disobeyin' me!

Wife: Oh hell no, I know you ain't tryin' to pull that shit. You don't own me!

Husband: Oh yes, I do, bitch! You can't be spreadin' abolitionist and revolutionary ideas and shit! That ain't right!

Wife: Whateva, I can't take this shit no more! I'm outta here, bitches. Peace!

[Starts to walk off stage but circles back to add one more thing]

And freedom for all!

Announcer: Tomorrow on Jerry Springer: Plantation: "Out of control teens who refuse to milk their family's cows and make butter! Jerry's Plantation Boot Camp!"

Or "Belles Gone Bad" could be like the old school version of "Girls Gone Wild." Except instead of lifting up their bikini tops, sticking out their tongues and screaming "WOO HOO!," the belles would daintily lift up their petticoats to reveal their naughty bits. (That last phrase should be read in an aristocratic British accent.)

So yeah. I'm excited about my paper.

* And to Miss Snow: Sorry that I didn't post our funny conversations from today, but honestly, I can't remember what the hell we were talking about. I hope this made you laugh, anyway!

I Depress Myself.

2007-11-17T17:50:00.000-05:00

How have I gone my entire life without knowing that Dave Grohl was the drummer for Nirvana? That's almost as sad as the fact that I didn't know it was possible to turn my calculator off until Lauren told me how last year. Hey, stop laughing. I can hear you. What? It doesn't have an "off" button! I'm supposed to know intuitively to press "2nd" and then "on"? Who do you think I am, Bill Gates? Jesus.

Oh So Many Quotables...

2007-11-16T20:03:00.000-05:00

[At Morning Gathering, trying to make our way through groups of people to the stage before it started so we could make an announcement]
Me: God, this is like a video game. People keep flingling backpacks in front of my feet like they're trying to give me obstacles along the way. I feel I should be collecting gold coins.
Morrgan: Life is a video game, Ally.
Me: Wow, Morrgan. That was deep.

My Biology Teacher: The centrioles direct the cell in its movements. They're like the choreographers on "Dancing With The Cells."

My Biology Teacher: Cells are only alive when they're in liquid. So the cells that make up your skin and your hair are not alive. It's dead tissue.
Morrgan: So in The Sixth Sense when that little kid said, "I see dead people", he really was seeing dead people...

My Biology Teacher: Just sitting there you lose about 20,000 cells a minute.
Girl in my class [excitedly]: What if I dance? Will more come off?

[In History class, my teacher brought in a bucket full of cotton so we could see first hand how difficult and time consuming it was for workers in the early 1800's to get the seeds out of it]
Catherine: I hate pulling things like this apart. It gives me the chills.
[She shows me the goosebumps on her arms]
Me: Wow, it really does freak you out, doesn't it?
Catherine: Yeah, I wouldn't make a very good slave.

My History Teacher: Does anyone know what the oil in wool is called?
Me: Lanolin?
My History Teacher: Yes, that's right. Lanolin.
Me [to my friend]: You know what the sad thing is? I only know that because of the movie Anchorman. At one point, Will Ferrell's like, "What's your name? Lanolin? Like sheep's wool?"

Morrgan: Today in Pre-Cal, Mrs. Jones* was like, "As the x value approaches, it gets larger" and Laura goes, "That's what she said."
Me: [laughter]
Morrgan: And then Mrs. Jones turns around and goes, "I hate you all."
Me: [laughter] I love Mrs. Jones.

Sophomore Girl: Our sophomore shirts are going to look so bad now. The person who made them left out the second "o" in "sophomore."
Erin: Who made them?
My Spanish Teacher: Un idiota.

My Theology Teacher, going over the schedule for next week: On Monday, you'll have lunch with the Freshman.
Melissa: Ew.
My Theology Teacher: Hey - we love people in Theology.

My Theology Teacher: Okay, so we're going to do a project about the VIP's of the early church like Ambrose and Augustine. In your project, you'll need you include some basic facts and an important event about your VIP.
Morrgan: For a minute, I thought she was saying, "P-I-M-P."

My Theology Teacher: There are more books in the Old Testament of the bible according to the Catholic faith than there are for Protestants.
Amelia: Why?
My Theology Teacher: Because Catholic scholars thought more books were inspired by the holy spirit than Protestant scholars.
Amelia: Aaaw, I feel bad for people who wrote for the Bible and didn't get in.

*Some names have been changed. And I might do this more often because it sounds very official and I'm beginning to feel drunk with power.

Sometimes School Is Soporific

2007-11-14T18:16:00.000-05:00

Someone needs to give me an award for using a vocab word in the title. Okay, now that I got that out of the way, we may commence with the post:

Ugh, I am soooo tiiiireeeed. Weirdly tired, too, because I got like ten hours of sleep last night. And I've been really thirsty all day, despite drinking a lot. Hmm. Suddenly very thirsty and tired. Those sound like symptoms to some weird disease. Rare and fatal. Like when you get bitten by a tzetze fly or something. Okay, I've definitely been watching too much "Mystery Diagnosis."

Today in U.S. History we were supposed to be taking notes on a video about life in the early 1800's and I swear to god I fell asleep nineteen different times. I was just sitting there resting my head on my hand and I couldn't go two minutes without drifting off to sleep. But I kept waking up out of sheer paranoia that someone would notice that I was asleep and nudge me or that someone would make a loud noise and wake me up. Because I knew that if that happened that I would jolt awake, half of my face red from leaning on it, my hair all messed up, and shout some random phrases to make it seem like I was listening. I'd be all, "Industrialization! The War of 1812! I'm totally awake!"

I seriously felt like I was sleepwalking through today, though. In Biology we went to the computer lab to go on some website about cells that had a bunch of quizzes and games on it and let's just say that I haven't felt that retarded in long time. We had to drag these puzzle pieces together to form the image of an animal cell and it seriously took me ten times longer than everyone else. Because besides the fact that in my head I'm still in bed asleep right now and never got up this morning, I SUCK at puzzles. And science. Science + puzzles = why am I even attempting this?

It also didn't help that Morrgan was sitting beside me unabashedly laughing at my incompetence. At one point she got so sick of me complaining that the puzzle was impossible and I would never finish it, ever, not in a million years, that she was like, "Oh my god, Ally, just put that there. No, that thing. There. No, over there. What are you doing? Seriously, are you retarded? Are you even looking at the model that shows where the things go in the cell?"

And I was all, "There's a model?"

I'm going to skip talking about Pre-Cal because we took a test and there isn't much to say about that except that I don't think I did badly but, I mean, it's Pre-Cal and the day I get an A on a Pre-Cal test is the day hell freezes over. And also a day that I probably would need new pants because I would piss myself out of shock.

After Pre-Cal, my school had a prayer service/party type thing in honor of the saint that my school is named after. Which sounds lame, but actually it really isn't. I mean, it could be way worse. The best part - the part that everyone looks forward to all day - is when the nuns play music (contemporary hip-hop) and dance along with most of the school. The nuns aren't in habits or anything, but it's still funny. And the teachers dance, too, which is amusing. One of the songs they played was Soulja Boy and needless to say it was pretty awesome to watch most of the students in my school, my teachers and nuns all do the Soulja Boy dance. Not that that was the first time one of my teachers did the Soulja Boy dance.

And then after the party I had to make up a Biology test, which I was not happy about. It's like, "I was just having fun and dancing around to Pink and Soulja Boy and now I have to write about the phosphorus cycle? This is so not fair."

Anyway, that was my day. Tomorrow is Visitor's Day where prospective students follow us around to get an idea of what our school day is like. All I really know is that my girl's name is Claire. It's usually a fun day where we mainly just play games in our classes, which are shortened. Which isn't really an accurate depiction a day at our school, but whatever, I'm not complaining.

More tomorrow. Or actually maybe not because I have an assload of English homework due Friday. Along with other things, we have to write a two page poetry analysis about a poem that's a meditation on death. So that should be fun and uplifting.

Things That Amuse Me Vol. 2

2007-11-12T21:28:00.000-05:00

Today in Biology we got some papers back and one of the comments my teacher wrote made me laugh out loud. The assignment had been to draw our own ecological food pyramid based on what we eat and I had completely rushed through it to get it done before the end of class. When I got my paper back today I found the following scrawled beside my food pyramid: "Yogurt does NOT eat COWS!"

Whatever. My yogurt totally eats cows.

Also, I have been seeing a lot of commercials for restless legs syndrome medicine lately which make me laugh because they say, "Side effects may include extreme gambling and sexual urges." It's like, "Yeah, I'm thousands of dollars in debt and I'm screwing everything with a pulse, but my legs aren't tingly anymore, so that's good."

Seriously, wtf?

Suck On That, Mary Kate!

2007-11-11T21:34:00.000-05:00

Okay, so a few days ago I wrote a post in which I critiqued an article titled "Brand Loyalty" that Mary Kate Olsen had written for The New York Times. Today, Just A Girl commented on that post saying that she thinks that I was a bit too harsh on Mary Kate and challenging me to write my own piece on brand loyalty. Now, keep in mind that Mary Kate probably had weeks if not months to write to her piece and I wrote mine like in twenty minutes. (I have homework to finish!) So I'm not saying that it's New York Times worthy or anything, but here goes:

Brand Loyalty

By: Ally V.G.

When you don't grow up steps from the Met and lack a bank account the size of Central Park, the term "brand loyalty" tends to take on a different meaning. Without a personal shopper and a front row ticket to the major shows at Fashion Week, the average girl is left with a much more challenging task than say, that of the Olsen twins: she must secure a fabulously chic wardrobe and still have enough money left over for groceries and rent. Is this an easy task? No. Is it doable? Yes. Just because you don't have the means to support design duos like Proenza Schouler or Dolce & Gabbana, doesn't mean you have to reach for the L.L. Bean. You simply have to be creative and know where to look. This is where brand loyalty comes in, or rather, where it doesn't. Because that's the thing: smart girls aren't loyal when it comes to fashion. After all, fashion is fun, right? It isn't your boyfriend or best girlfriend; there isn't all the stress and drama that comes with that territory. Fashion isn't going to break up with you or call you names, so go ahead, see other people. Sit at a different lunch table. Buy something you wouldn't normally look twice at if it makes you feel good. Splurge on an expensive label and pair it with a cheap find. If you wear what fits you and wear it with confidence, your outfits are sure to be just as enviable as those A-List celebs.

BTW: I know the spacing of this post is weird and I would try to fix it, but English homework is more important.

Hey, At Least I Admit It.

2007-11-11T14:19:00.000-05:00

[Today at breakfast, or maybe it was lunch? It was twelve o'clock and my mom had a veggie sub, but I had just woken up and I got pancakes, so it was breakfast to me.]

Me: You know, for all the shit I talk about celebrities being diva bitches, if I was really rich right now I'd probably pay someone to butter my pancakes for me.

Mom: That is so pathetic.

Me: I know.

Mary Kate Gets A Gold Star For The Day.

2007-11-10T11:21:00.000-05:00

I was searching online recently to find out more about the supposed new Ashley Olsen/Lance Armstrong hookup because I'm pathetically intrigued with the lives of celebrities when I came across an article that Ashley's sister, Mary Kate, wrote for the New York Times earlier this year titled "Brand Loyalty." (Original link here) Keep in mind that she's twenty years old:

I have a large, red quilted Chanel bag that I borrowed from my sister Ashley. I wore it to an event and never gave it back. Luckily, she's moved on to another bag, so I'm safe for now. I'm not quite sure how many bags I have, but let's just say I have a few. When I find a bag I like, I tend to wear it to death until I become obsessed with another one. This probably happens three to five times a year. But I always come back to the Chanel. The size isn't overwhelming, and it has enough subtle detail to keep it interesting. I also have the smaller version in blue and in white, but the red is definitely my favorite. I don't have a stylist — I'd rather just do my own thing and put together my own outfits. The chain-handle bag is the perfect accent to almost any combination I come up with. I look at everything with a designer's eye, but I wouldn't change a thing about this bag. I think that's why it's a true classic.

It’s like in first grade when you can’t really write yet and so the teacher has you dictate to her what you want to say about a topic like “Why I Love My Mom” and she writes it down and it always ends up something like this:

My mom is nice. I like her a lot. She puts my hair in a ponytail and we play with my Barbies. She wears makeup. I want to wear makeup. When we go to the park, I go on the swings. She pushes me. She is fun.

That’s cute when you’re in first grade, but if you’re in college and you still write like that, then you need to leave the New York Times editorial writing to Arianna Huffington. For real.

Mmmm....Cookie Dough.

2007-11-09T20:42:00.000-05:00

I'm really glad I decided on jeans instead of sweats when I went to the grocery store today because I ran into two of my friends. I hadn't walked ten feet into the store when I heard someone yell, "ALLY?!" I turned around to see two of my good friends from middle school who now attend a different high school than me but still stay in touch. I hadn't seen them in awhile, so it was really awesome to run into them. I love random things like that: random purchases, random meetings...they just amuse me.

They were in line buying a pack of doughnuts. "Oh my god, those look so good," I said. "I haven't had a glazed donut in forever." "Yeah," my friend said, laughing, "after this we're going to McDonald's." After chatting some more about how we really need to get together soon, I wished them an amazing junk food fest and continued shopping. Ten minutes later, I ran into them again in the middle of the store.

"What are you guys still doing here?" I asked. "We forgot to buy candy!" they said and laughed, walking down the candle aisle and grabbing a bag. "Doughnuts, McDonald's and candy," I said, shaking my head. "That's just so healthy, guys."

Then I grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

R-A-N-D-O-M Spells "Random"!

2007-11-07T18:24:00.000-05:00

Today first period my Economics class went to the library to work on a project but I got almost nothing done because I kept getting distracted by the dance class that was being taught on the floor below us that I could see through a large glass window on the wall to my right. (Okay, that was an awkward sentence but I'm too lazy to fix it.) They were dancing ballet and I was completely transfixed. I've always wanted to be a ballerina and took ballet classes when I was younger. But the truth that I thankfully realized before I had invested anymore time into it is that I could never realistically be a ballerina. I am the opposite of graceful; I trip over things (and my own feet) all the time. I have no balance. I am not tall or skeletal. And I have too much boob.

A few days ago I watched the movie Center Stage on cable and realized that the reason that I love some movies that are otherwise crappy is because they allow me to live vicariously through the characters that are doing something that I really want to do but will never be able to. Maybe it isn't even that I really love these things, I just love the idea of these things. Like the movie Bring It On for example. Whenever the end credits roll to that movie, I'm always like, "I'm going to become a cheerleader!" It's a very fleeting moment of excitement and inspiration until I realize that, um, I'm me and I could never be a successful cheerleader. You could pump all the uppers in the world into me and I could never be that perky about sports. I mean, you can ask my friends, I get excited and loud about things all the time, just not whether the football team will score another down. The squad would be jumping up and down, huge grins spreading across their face yelling, "Go Team! Go Team!" and I would off to the side waving one arm lethargically like, "Um...yeah...whoop-de-shit." But if you were ever able to view our lunchtime conversations, you would probably point to me and be all, "Whoa, who's the chick who won't stop talking? Could you tell her to be a little quieter? Everything is not funny."

Like today at lunch, I was trying to memorize the Our Father prayer for Spanish the following period and my friend Morrgan and I, of course, could not focus and instead turned it into a rap. So here's some of our Jay-Z version of the Spanish Our Father (because as Morrgan said, "He's all up with G-Unit"):

Padre nuestro que estas en cielizzah
Sanctificado sea tu nombre (uh-huh uh-huh yeah)
Venga tu reino, BITCHES.
Hagase (UH) tu voluntudad (YEAH) en la tierra como en el cielo (Represent!)

Wow. I am so going to hell for that. Oh, well. Whatevs.

Today Morrgan spent last period making these little itty bitty stars out of paper because she is AMAZING at things like that whereas I just ball up a piece of paper as if it looks like something and go, "TA-DA!" Because if you act like it should look like something, people usually don't question you. They'll be like, "It's a...goose...right? And I'll be like, "EXACTLY."

When I saw Morrgan making these stars (she learned how to make them online, so google it I suppose, if you want to learn, too) I was all, "Oh my god! I totally want some!" But Melissa soon realized the magic that was happening at the desk beside me and wanted in on the goods. She was like, "Morrgan, if you give them to me instead of Ally, I'll make jewelry out of them." And I was like, "Yeah, well if you give them to me instead of Melissa, I'll take a picture of them and post them online and write about how amazing you are. You can't beat that shit! That's the internet. The world wide web. It will be broadcast to ~~millions~~ ~~thousands~~ the people who read my blog. So here are the adorable little paper stars. You can't really tell, but they are about the size of my fingertip:

And that's all for today. Possibly more randomness tomorrow? Let's hope so.

Don't Make Me Beg. It Wouldn't Be Pretty.

2007-11-05T20:34:00.000-05:00

My school is offering a trip to Spain this June for Spanish students and I really, really, really want to go. It's for ten days, everything is included except spending money and lunch every day and the cost is reasonable (around $3,000). The only problem is that none of my friends are going. The reasons vary (coincides with uncle's wedding, parents would rather they go next year, doesn't like a particular teacher who is going, etc.) but they all mean the same thing: less fun for me. Now I'm questioning whether I want to go or not. Yeah, I could go next year when a few of my friends are probably going, but I really want to go this year. And maybe I'll go again next year again if I have a good time, which I think I will.

I understand not going if you have a prior important obligation or you're honoring your parents' wishes, but one of my friend's reasons I simply cannot wrap my head around. So I thought I'd write her a little letter:

Miss Snow (this friend does not want me to use her real name),

Darling: You are pissing me off. I know that you know that you are pissing me of because I told you earlier on the phone when we had a conversation about this trip, about how I'm dying to go and you're my last hope of having a friend go with me and yet you're still hung up on one thing: a certain teacher (we'll just call her "Mrs. X") is going to be there and you don't like her.

Now, I understand that Mrs. X can be a bitch sometimes and that you two don't particularly get along, but that is not a reason to not take advantage of an amazing opportunity like this trip. You are going to meet so many bitches in your life like her, and you can't just not do things because of one of them threatens to occupy the same space as you for more than thirty seconds at a time. Because through altering your life for them and missing out on great things, you let them win. So she's an asswipe, you're going to let her control your life, too?

You're going to be an amazingly brilliant NASA space engineer, right? You don't think there are assholes at NASA? Please. And to be this NASA space engineer, you're going to have to go to a good college, right? And study in the typical "male" fields of math and science to get a job in a typically male-dominated environment? You think there aren't going to be asshole professors who see you as some meek, sweet little girl in over her head? Because at some point, you will probably face that obstacle and you will need to be able to kick them in the balls. Figuratively speaking, of course. And once you become a huge deal NASA engineer you're going to marry a hot astronaut, right? Well, at some point you're probably going to have to deal with asswipe relatives of his, perhaps a mother-in-law who simply cannot believe that you picked that shade of taupe for the drapes. Because that shade of taupe was truly a life-altering decision and she thought you would choose the right color. The one she had suggested. But you didn't. And she'll want to talk about nothing else besides this horrendous mistake of color choice during your Thanksgiving dinner. But are you going to get up and walk out just because she's a crotchety old hag? No, you're going to sit there and smile and shut your mouth and stare at your smoking-hot astronaut husband. Because you are above that.

So, I hope I've made my point without offending you. Because that is not my intention. My intention is to make one last effort to convince you to go before I give up on the idea of going on this trip. Because I think it would be so much more fun with you. And if you weigh the pros and cons, there are so many more pros. The only thing holding you back is Mrs. X. But screw her. When we get there, you won't even be thinking about her because instead we'll be busy shopping and eating amazing food and sight-seeing and sun tanning on the beach and have I convinced you yet? Because I'm really trying over here.

Mrs. X won't get to you. I won't let her. And if she does, I'll kick her in the balls. Or, no wait: I'll let you do that.

I Wish My Last Name Meant "Of The Tower"

2007-11-05T14:10:00.000-05:00

[at the grocery store today in the international section]

Me: Hey, look at this. It's called "Carmen de la Torre". Does that sound like a Skinemax special or what?

Mom: [laughs] What is it?

Me: Um..."quince paste".

Mom: What the hell is quince paste?

Me: I have no idea, but it sounds awesome, right? This is why I want to go to Spain! (More on that later.)

Mom: But what is a quince and why would you want to make a paste out of it?

Me: I don't know, I'll have to google that.

So I did. And here is what quince is. Also, in trying to find the particular brand I typed in "Carmen de la Torre" into google and turns out she is a makeup artist who's worked on movies such as Once Upon A Time In Mexico. So that's pretty cool. She missed her calling as a porn star, though, if you ask me.

Next Time You Want To Really Piss Someone Off, Play Some Opera Music.

2007-11-04T21:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday afternoon I sat in Starbucks and did some school work and can I just say that Starbucks - or least this particular one in glorious Richmond, Virginia (that was sarcasm in case you didn't detect it) - plays the worst music. I'm sitting there annotating The Scarlet Letter and being forced to listen to opera. OPERA. I wanted to shoot myself in the face. Seriously, if anyone who works for Homeland Security is reading this, I think this music/literature combination would be an excellent torture tactic for terrorists. (Try saying that ten times fast.)

But about an hour into the opera music - just as it was threatening to shatter the glass windows and just as I was about to jab a fork into my eyeball - they switched the music to a much more tolerable and contemporary mix. So then I'm sitting there telepathically thanking the baristas for saving my sanity and thinking, "Hmm, I kind of like this song..." when I realize that it's JOHN MAYER. You see, I used to love John Mayer - to the point of near obsession, really - back in the 7th/8th grade when his first few CDs came out. I knew every word to the songs, went to the concert and belted them, etc. Then, about two years ago I got so sick of his music that I stopped listening to it entirely. I had just overdone the John Mayer. And I guess a part of me was kind of glad to let it go because it was such a big part of my middle school experience. All my friends were just as into it and we kind of made it "our thing". (Along with other things that are equally as embarrassing to recall.) So I said good riddance to my John Mayer collection with the mentality of, "Um, I'm in high school now and I am so over that."

But when I heard this song in Starbucks yesterday (it's called "Dreaming With A Broken Heart") I couldn't help but concede that maybe I'm over being over John Mayer. It's a sweet song and the second half is especially good. I like the lyric, "Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?" So I guess I kind of like John Mayer again now. Shhh, don't tell anyone.

In other news, I was all PMS-y earlier and didn't eat dinner because I didn't feel well and then I ate a whole bag of chocolate covered pretzels. It wasn't a huge bag, but still. I didn't even glance at the calories, the thought is so frightening. So yeah, don't tell anyone about that either.

Sometimes Overplayed, But Not Overrated

2007-11-03T23:51:00.000-04:00

Blame It On The Fever From The Flu Shot.

2007-11-02T18:39:00.000-04:00

Or call me crazy. Whatever works. But these are the things that have been occupying my time the past few days:

I think it's safe to say that this Japanese game show called "Brain Wall" - which is literally a game of human tetris - is the best game show in the history of television. So far I've only been able to find a few videos of it on YouTube, but if "Brain Wall" were a channel, I'm pretty sure it's all I would watch. Here's a clip, with a little intro at the beginning showing how the game works:

And then there's...um...this. *Quickly links and then turns face away from the computer as if that will somehow make the situation less of a reality* Seriously, though. Ashley Olsen and Lance Armstrong? What the hell? That's just creepy and wrong. I definitely did not see this coming. They just seem like such an unlikely match, it's odd. Lance seems to usually go for women closer to his age, athletic, sort of tomboy Sheryl Crow-ish type women. Not twenty-something skeletal fashionistas who seem as though they could topple over from a mere sneeze in their general direction. And Ashley Olsen on a bike? Please. The only things she lifts are cigarettes and frappacinos. (Although if she were to take up bike riding, I'd definitely recommend this one. Stylish and...fairly practical, I suppose. Maybe Ashley will lend her bike for us to learn with, Michelle! Haha.)

Also, I have a new favorite TV show, or at least a very close second behind "Brain Wall". It's called "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" and it is crazy, irreverent, politically incorrect and hysterical. Plus last year Danny DeVito joined the cast, which makes it that much more hilarious. Here are some clips and promos from the show:

So yeah, check it out. It comes on FX on Thursdays and then it's usually repeated during the week. More tomorrow. Happy Friday!

I Guess I Could Just Go As A Sickly Person.

2007-10-31T17:58:00.000-04:00

I was so sad that I had to miss Halloween dress up day at my school today because I'm sick. It's really fun because almost everyone dresses up and most people go all out. I was going to be a flapper, which I know isn't very exciting or innovative, but I just couldn't help myself when I saw the little red sequined dress with fringe all over it at the store. I love swooshing when I walk. And plus it came with a red sequined head band with a feather attached to it. Made me feel like an Indian. In a good way.

So now I have a flapper costume in my closet which is really reassuring because you never know when you're going to need one of those. The occasions are endless.

In other news, I went back to the doctor today. I saw my usual, good doctor, though, not Dr. Douchebag like last time. It was great, though, because when I told her how he treated us yesterday, she was like, "Yeah...we have opposite methods of practicing because I tend to, you know, treat people."

I always feel like I should wear a surgical mask to the doctor's office what with all those sick little kids running around, sneezing all over everything. There were about fifteen toddlers there either waiting to get flu shots, getting them, or screaming bloody murder in the flu shot aftermath. They were simultaneously the cutest things I have ever seen and walking birth control ads.

So anyway, after making sympathetic pouty faces at about ten kids ahead of me in line, I got a flu shot, or, as I call it: "An Excuse To Do Absolutely Nothing With My Left Arm For A Week." And now my arm is killing me.

I think I'm going to go eat some Skittles and go to bed. Because that seems like a healthy thing to do. More tomorrow. Maybe.

What's A Prescription For An Asshole?

2007-10-30T13:49:00.000-04:00

Ugh, I feel like shit. I went to the doctor’s office this morning, but unfortunately my usual, lovely doctor who I have been seeing since I was a baby is off on Tuesdays (which figures is when I always seem to get sick) so I had to see another doctor, a doctor who I have seen before many times and who, over the years, has earned from my family and me, the reputation of being a complete asshole. I will not reveal his name in case by some off chance he or someone close to him finds this website (doctors can afford good lawyers) so I will refer to him as simply Dr. Douchebag.

I haven't felt well since Friday, though my symptoms are kind of vague and there aren't that many of them. Basically, I'm just exhausted. It's gotten better, but Friday afternoon, I was literally too tired to speak. I thought I might have mono, but I don't have swollen glands or a sore throat, so it's quite puzzling. I feel better than I did on Friday, but I still don't feel like myself. I'm weak and when I stand up I feel dizzy.

So we get to the doctor’s on time – 9:50 – and wait in the room for a good twenty minutes while the whole time we can hear Dr. Douchebag outside the room going on and on and ON about the different ingredients in Benadryl, which I’m sure the other person didn’t even ask to know because that is so typical him, to give people lengthy lectures on complicated things that don’t even pertain to their situation just to make himself sound smarter. If “Talking For The Sake Of Hearing Yourself Talk” were an Olympic sport, he’d win a gold medal. And wear it around the office.

So anyway, after a while the Benadryl lecture comes to a halt and I begin to hear music. And it's not just any kind of music, not elevator music like the kind you hear when you’re put on hold or the kind of classical music that one would expect doctors to listen to. (Okay, it’s a stereotype, but a fairly accurate one, I think.) It was dance music. The kind you’d hear in a club. “I Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” by Kylie Minogue to be specific. And don’t get me wrong, I like that song, it’s just that a male doctor in his sixties listening to it is kind of hilarious. Sad, actually. I mean, I guess on some level in some situations, that would be kind of cool, but when you actually know this guy, you understand how pathetic it is. I can picture him now in his “hot” car that totally screams, “I’m compensating for something else!”, blasting Kylie Minogue with the windows down like, “Look! I’m not old! I’m cool!”

Whatever.

So anyway, of course I give him shit when he finally comes into the room about his music taste. “I was loving the Kylie Minogue”, I said half-sarcastically. “You having a dance party or something?”

“Yeah,” he said and began to demonstrate. Frighteningly enough. Ooh, don’t do that, I wanted to say. You might pull something.

So after he stops his “dance” which can only be accurately described as a demonstration of a grand mal seizure, he goes, “Yeah, I have a bunch of different stuff on my iPod. But that got stolen. Hang on.” And then he leaves. And I’m all, “Um...does he have bladder control issues? A crippling addiction I’m unaware of? Perhaps he went to go lock his office to prevent future thefts?” I mean, really, what kind of doctor just bolts in the middle of an appointment, leaving you no time to even ask where he’s going.

He came back into the room WITH HIS IPHONE. I was like, are you kidding me? I feel like death over here and your whipping out your ~~dick~~ iPhone and ~~jerking off~~ showing me how amazing it is?

So after flipping through his music catalogue which included artists such as Fleetwood Mac, Dixie Chicks and Kylie Minogue (oh yeah, his man points are in the negative numbers now) and demonstrating how well the map function works (“It helped me find my son-in-law’s house the other day!”) he picks up my chart and begins flipping through it. He lands on a page, looks at it quizzically, and takes it out of the folder. Holding it up as though it were an x-ray and he was trying to discern which bone I had broken, he asks, “Are you having issues with sensitivity and your penis?”

“WHAT?!”

“Have you received pelvic radiation?”

I am so not even exaggerating. You can’t make this shit up.

“What?! Why does it say that?”

“Just some misfiling,” he said with a smirk on his face. He was so enjoying this.

Well, good. Because the last time I checked, I didn’t have a penis. Although, according to my junk mail folder, I have a tiny dick that is in desperate need of enlargement. If I just bought a bottle of Enlargement X-Treme, it could break through walls! And increase my sperm count! Because my sperm count is so low, you don't even know.

So after that whole hour-long mess, Dr. Douchebag was like, “Well, I could run some tests and do some blood work, but I think it would be best if we waited until your usual doctor comes in tomorrow. I would feel more comfortable if she evaluated your symptoms and decided what to do.”

Translation: I know that your regular doctor is a better doctor than I am and that she can figure out what you have better than I can. I knew that I wasn’t going to do anything for you the second I walked in here, which is why I wasted fifteen minutes on my iPhone. I could take some guesses as to why you feel bad and run some tests, but if I made a stupid decision at any point, which I probably would, I would never hear the end of it from your regular doctor. Because she knows I’m all talk and no game. Basically, I’m whipped.

But he would never say that.

Insert Me Making High-Pitched Girly Squeals Of Excitement Here

2007-10-27T16:38:00.000-04:00

Tonight I'm going to see the comedian Mike Birbiglia at the University of Richmond and I couldn't be more excited. I wanted to go for a really long time, but everytime I looked at the tour dates it always said "Students Only" next to the U of R date and I was always like, "UGH. Why can't I be two years older and way smarter? Why? Why? Whyyyyyy?" But then a few days ago I got an email with the tour dates attached and the U of R date didn't say "Students Only" next to it anymore. So I called the box office and got tickets before they sold out. Yay! I'm so excited! So for those of you who aren't familiar with Mike Birbiglia and how hilarious he is, here are some videos you should check out:

Same Thing With Chapstick. And Hair Ties.

2007-10-26T21:07:00.000-04:00

My stepdad rented the movie Disturbia tonight, which we're watching right now. Well, actually I'm not really watching it because I've already seen it like four times in the past two months. I'm more like watching it/IMing people/reading other people's blogs/reading People magazine. But I did look up a minute ago to watch one of the more climactic moments towards the end where the two main characters are fighting a bad guy and the girl quickly grabs a pair of scissors to fight the bad guy which struck me as kind of funny because that would never happen in my house. It would be more like:

Me: Mom, where are the scissors?! I need to stab an intruder!

Mom: I don't know, did you check the junk drawer?

Me: Yes, they're not in there!

Mom: Well I don't know, when was the last time you saw them? Retrace your steps.

Me: I don't have time to retrace my steps now! I kind of need to stab this guy in the neck!

Mom: Well, who was the last person to use them?

Me: I don't know! But the clock is ticking and I need them right now!

Mom: Well, I don't know what to tell you.

Me: UGH.

I Even Included The Song Titles (Hint Hint Morrgan)

2007-10-25T18:45:00.000-04:00

I've been in the mood to listen to a lot of music lately for some reason, which has inspired me to compile a list of my favorite lyrics. The first ten or so are in order and the rest are in a loose order. And in case you can't tell, I'm a romantic. Just a little bit. (Sorry about the font issues, by the way. Blame blogger.)

Dire Straits - Romeo & Juliet

I can't do the talk like they talk on the TV
And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be
I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you
I can't do anything except be in love you
And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
And all I do is keep the beat and bad company
All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme
Julie I'd do the stars with you any time

The Cure - Just Like Heaven

Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream she said
The one that makes me laugh she said
And threw her arms around my neck
Show me how you do it
And I promise you
I promise that I’ll run away with you
I’ll run away with you

Van Morrison - Tupelo Honey

She's as sweet as tupelo honey
She's an angel of the first degree
She's as sweet as tupelo honey
Just like honey from the bee

Elton John - I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues

Laughing like children
Living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers

Eric Clapton - Wonderful Tonight

I feel wonderful
Because I see the love light in your eyes
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don't realize
How much I love you

Cowboy Junkies - Angel Mine

I can't promise that I'll grow those wings
Or keep this tarnished halo shined
But I'll never betray your trust
Angel mine

Sting - If I Ever Lose My Faith In You

You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV
And you could say I lost my belief in our politicians
They all seem like game show hosts to me
But If I ever lose my faith in you
There'd be nothing left for me to do

John Hiatt - Have A Little Faith In Me

And when your secret heart
Cannot speak so easily
Come here darling, from a whisper start
And have a little faith in me
And when your back’s against the wall
Just turn around and you, you will see
I will catch you, I will catch your fall
Just have a little faith in me

Bonnie Raitt - Cry Like A Rainstorm

Life isn't easy
Love never lasts
You just carry on
And keep moving fast...

Sometimes I'm up
Sometimes I'm down
Tell me where can I run to
Tell me how have I sinned
When you cry like a rainstorm
And howl like the wind

Billy Joel - New York State Of Mind

It comes down to reality
And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide
Don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside
I don't have any reasons
I've left them all behind
I'm in a New York state of mind

Frank Sinatra - The Way You Look Tonight

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose touches my foolish heart
Lovely, never ever change
Keep that breathless charm
Won't you please arrange it?
'Cause I love you
Just the way you look tonight

Van Morrison - Into The Mystic

And I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And magnificently we will float into the mystic

Dave Matthews Band - Crash Into Me

Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll
Lost for you
I'm so lost for you

Van Morrison - These Are The Days

These are the days now that we must savor
And we must enjoy as we can
These are the days that will last forever
You've got to hold them in your heart

Sarah Mclachlan - Good Enough

After all the bullshit I've heard
It's refreshing not to see
I don't have to pretend
She doesn't expect it from me

Joni Mitchell - River

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly

Elton John - Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Prima Donna lord you really should have been there
Sittin' like a princess perched in her electric chair

Goo Goo Dolls - Name

And don't it make you sad to know that life
Is more than who we are...

We grew up way too fast
And now there's nothing to believe
Reruns all become our history
A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio
And I won't tell no one your name
And I won't tell em' your name

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year

Matchbox Twenty - Soul

Well there's always something tearing you apart
It's always so much longer than you counted on
And it hits you so much harder then you thought
But you don't worry, no you don't worry
Cause you've got soul

Tori Amos - Tear In Your Hand

If you need me Neil and Me will be hangin' out with the dream king
Neil says hi
By the way I don't believe you're leaving
'Cause me and Charles Manson like the same ice cream
I think it's that girl
And I think they're pieces of me you've never seen
Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen

David Gray - Babylon

If you want it, come and get it
For crying out loud
The love that I was giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go of your heart, let go of your head
And feel it now

Tori Amos - Snow Cherries From France

You question me
"Can you ride anything?"
Lord do you mean like your mood swings
Invaders and Traders with The best intentions
May convince you to go
"They look like pirates from here"
Boy I've been one for years
Just keeping my head
And when I promised my head
You promised me back Snow Cherries from France

Velvet Underground - Sweet Jane

And there's some evil mothers
Well they're gonna tell you that everything is just dirt
You know, that women never really faint
And that villains always blink their eyes (oooh!)
And that, you know, children are the only ones who blush
And that life is just to die
But anyone who ever had a heart
Oh, they wouldn't turn around and break it
And anyone who's ever played a part
Oh, they wouldn't turn around and hate it

Rufus Wainwright - Vibrate

My phone's on vibrate for you
Electroclash is karaoke too
I tried to dance Britney Spears
I guess I'm getting on in years

Elton John - Bennie & The Jets

Say, Candy and Ronnie, have you seen them yet
But they're so spaced out, Bennie and the Jets
Oh but they're weird and they're wonderful
Oh Bennie she's really keen
She's got electric boots, a mohair suit
You know I read it in a magazine
Bennie and the Jets

Tori Amos - Silent All These Years

Your eyes focus on my funny lip shape
Let's hear what you think of me now
But baby don't look up
The sky is falling
Your mother shows up in a nasty dress
And it's your turn now to stand where I stand
Everybody lookin' at you
You take hold of my hand
Yeah I can hear them

Rufus Wainwright - Poses

I did go from wanting to be someone
Now I'm drunk and wearing flip flops on Fifth Avenue

Cracker - Brides Of Neptune

I tried dating a mermaid
she buys pot from the first mate.

Counting Crows - Mr. Jones

I wanna be Bob Dylan
Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky
When everybody loves you
Oh, son, that's just about as funky as you can be

Rufus Wainwright - Slideshow

Do I love you because you don't want me to rub your back?
Or is it the medication?
Or is it you?
Or is it true?
And I better be prominently featured in your next slideshow
Because I paid a lot of money to get you over here, you know?
And if I am not prominently featured in your next slideshow
I don't know what I'm gonna do

Jewel - Foolish Games

Dark eyes and careless hair
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care

Ray LaMontagne - Shelter

Listen when all of this around us will fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
You will shelter me my love
And I will shelter you
I will shelter you

Carly Simon - You're So Vain

I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee
Clouds in my coffee and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?

Talking Heads - Once In A Lifetime

And you may ask yourself
How do I work this?
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile?
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife!

Dave Matthews Band - What Would You Say

Every dog has its day
Every day has its way of being forgotten
"Mom, it's my birthday!"
What would you say?

The Killers - All These Things That I've Done

I've got soul
But I'm not a soldier

Clipse - Ride Around Shining

Money piles high as my nieces
Hefty bags full of cash
Cars full of ass

Meredith Brooks - I'm A Bitch I'm A Lover

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way

Wire - Kidney Bingos

Natural splits sunburn jets price marks smart bets
Strikers luck pitch backs heap tips pit slacks
Dressed pints demon shrinks bread drunk dead drinks
Stretch clubs models box draw skin black shocks
Money spines paper lung kidney bingos organ fun

Alanis Morissette - Ironic

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought "Well isn't this nice..."
And isn't it ironic
Don't you think

Or I Could Do "Bitchy" And "Blogger"

2007-10-24T17:41:00.000-04:00

I have an extra credit project due tomorrow for my English class that I have to do tonight. We're reading The Scarlet Letter, so the for the project we have to choose one negative word and one positive word that describes us that both begin with the same letter and then decorate a letter to represent those words. When my teacher said, "a negative word about yourself" I immediately thought, "procrastination!" because my friends are always bugging me about how I leave everything for the last possible minute. I do; I admit it. So I knew I was going to do "procrastination" from the beginning. But what has been giving me trouble all this week has been coming up with a positive "p" word.

A few days ago I decided to try searching online for words that begin with "p", but it wasn't very successful. It was like, "Pap smear! Parachutes! Political Parties!" And I was like, "Um...no." Thank god none of those words describe me. Because if I reminded people of a pap smear, that would be a problem.

By the time this afternoon rolled around and I STILL hadn't found my positive "p" word, I got a little worried. So in study hall, my friend Tori decided to get out a dictionary and flip to the "p"'s to help me find my word. Some of her suggestions were pretty hysterical. So hysterical, in fact, that I wrote them down to share:

pronghorn: resembling an antelope

penuche: a type of fudge

phalanger: a long-tailed marsupial of Australia

peritinitis: an inflammation of the membrane lining the abdominal cavity

pimp

pixie (Tori: That's like a fairy. But worse.)

polydactyl: having too many fingers or toes

pooper - scooper

portulaca: a low-growing annual plant

phylactery: a small leather box that contains scriptures worn by pious Jews (Erin: Pious...that's, like, "flexible", right?)

and my personal favorite...

pibroch - a wild, irregular kind of bagpipe music

I never knew there was such a thing as wild bagpipe music before. If you ask me, that word was made up by the bagpipe people as some kind of marketing ploy. I mean, when was the last time you heard someone say, "Wow, this bagpipe music is bangin"? My point exactly.

But anyway, I finally picked the word "probity", which, I'm not going to lie, is a word whose definition I did not know until Tori read it out of the dictionary. It means "integrity, honesty and trustworthiness". I'm an honest and trustworthy person, so it fits. Plus "probity" is a fun word.

But to me, the best part of the assignment is that we all have to wear our "scarlet letters" to school tomorrow all day. Ha! I love it. If only I didn't have a huge Spanish test tomorrow, it would be a really amazing day. *sigh*

As Flash Fiction, I Paralyze My Enemies With My Overwhelming Sense Of Girl Power

2007-10-23T17:53:00.000-04:00

I was in Barnes & Noble recently sipping a coffee and flipping through some books about writing (nerd alert!) when I came across a book about how to write a good short story which, under the section defining what a short story is, mentioned that some completely legitimate short stories are only a paragraph or two in length and are called "flash fiction". (I've decided that that is totally my superhero name, by the way. Flash Fiction!)

I had never heard of two paragraphs being counted as a short story before, but I was happy to see that my little dehydrated writing experiments may actually be categorized as a form of short story. It's not that I necessarily like writing such short stories - I wish that I could write longer ones more often - but on the weekdays I usually have too much homework to devote too much time to my own writing and on the weekends I just want to clear my head of everything related to reading and writing that I've been doing in school all week. That and the fact that I have the attention span of a fruit fly.

In other news, I heard the new Spice Girls song on the radio this morning and was utterly disappointed. Where are the Spice Girls I know and love? Where's the kickass attitude and girl power? The new release is so pathetic, it just sounds like a lame children's choir. It's all sappy and not catchy at all, which is one of the main things you would expect from the Spice Girls. I mean, yeah they make crappy pop music, but at least it's catchy crappy pop music. That promotes girls kicking ass instead of being "bitches" or "hoes" for once.

My friends and I used to play "Spice Girls" when I was younger and I always ended up being Baby Spice because I'm blonde. Well, not now - I dyed my hair brown recently - but I'm naturally blonde. I always kind of resented having to be Baby Spice because she was the token ditzy blonde girl and while I'm blonde, I'm not ditzy, I don't wear pig tails and I definitely don't wear outfits that could double as cheerleading uniforms. I always wanted to be Posh Spice and wear little black dresses. Whatever. I remember we used to go to Limited Too and fight over the Spice Girls lollipops that had the different Spice Girls' faces on them. Kids products are kind of creepy like that.

But anyway, even though their new single kind of blows, I still love the Spice Girls with every fiber of my being. They're my nostalgia, a huge part of my childhood. I mean, seriously, if you're a girl who grew up in the late 90's and you don't love the Spice Girls, even secretly, then you can suck it. Because they're amazing.

I think I'm going to go blast "Wannabe" and dance around my room now. Sadly, I still know all the words. More tomorrow.

Ranting Is My Cardio

2007-10-22T17:27:00.000-04:00

I don't have any cool special talents. My Spanish teacher can imitate the sound of a bird chirping EXACTLY while hardly moving her mouth. When she does it, someone in the room always looks around like, "Does anyone else hear a bird?" I don't have any special skills like that - what Mike Birbiglia would call a "secret special skill" - and that makes me sad. The only "trick" I can do is take my bra off through my sleeve.

The Ellen Degeneres show is turning into the Hallmark channel. Every time I turn it on it’s like, “And up next a 7 year old boy who climbed Mount Everest with one leg to raise money for African children who need wheelchairs.” And I’m like, but I thought this was a celebrity...talk...show.....?

Raw mushrooms smell like death. Do not put them in my salad. I will not eat them. I will throw them at you. I do not like to eat things that smell like decay. Why do you think people don’t have lunch at the morgue? It is not appetizing.

Speaking of disgusting smells, there was a huge hunk of an oak tree in the Biology room today that smelled like Parmesan cheese. In other words, it smelled like vomit, which isn't pleasant at any time of the day, let alone first thing in the morning. *gags*

My Happy List

2007-10-21T18:44:00.000-04:00

(Inspired by this post on Alex's blog)

1. Listening to a song that I love on repeat as much as I want with no one around to tell me shut it off, for christ's sake, how many times can you listen to one song?

2. Waking up, thinking it's Monday, then realizing it's Sunday and falling back asleep. Until 11.

3. Writing when I feel inspired.

4. Sinking my toes into wet sand.

5. Curling up on the couch and watching a good girly movie on TNT/TBS.

6. Wandering around Barnes & Noble with a frappacino in hand.

7. Little kids who are so excited about their Halloween costumes that they wear them out places weeks before Halloween.

8. Milano cookies.

9. When I have straight hair, polished nails and a bit of perfume.

10. When I feel like "me".

I love StatCounter.

2007-10-21T16:32:00.000-04:00

These are the most popular phrases that people enter into Google that lands them on this page (I have linked to the relevant posts):

oh give me a home where the buffalo roam
gael garcia
crocs
mikhail baryshnikov tight pants
what is that song from the walgreen's commercial
bad guys from alison and wonderland
robitussin labels pictures
anderson cooper gay
toddler can't lay on floor tummy hurts (wtf??)

Morrgan's Deep.

2007-10-19T20:22:00.000-04:00

My friend Morrgan wrote quite an interesting and thought-provoking post on her livejournal yesterday. I thought I would share:

Sometimes I wonder if we know who we really are. I mean, you go through each day, seeing and talking to countless people. But do you really see them? Or do you see the face they present to the world, hiding another part of themselves, the part that is closer to their soul, their true being? Do they realize they do this or is it subconscious, an act they mind and heart keep repeating to save themselves from pain? I've always considered myself to be someone who doesn't trust people, not allowing them 'in', and feeling like few other people were quite as closed as I am. But am I? Do I hide just as much as other people? Am I just one of the masses, just a girl with her secrets? Everyone and then I'll meet someone who seems surface level, not particularly capable of having a 'deeper' self. And then they'll do or say something that sticks that theory into an oven and roasts it to a blacked crisp. Then others seem incredibly sheltered, not open to allowing you to see much about them, but once they really talk to you it's apparent how similar you really are.

This isn't a recent dilemma, far from it. Ever since the seventh grade when my religion teacher commented on how I don't talk about certain aspects of myself (in my life or just in general), I've always wondered if he said that to me just because he could or because I was that way more so than others. Are there really people who know exactly who they are? And if so, are they comfortable with it, or do they hide it, holding a façade of what people want to see? In psychology we talked about how you're growing as a person and when do you stop. It's been studied a lot because, in truth, humans are incredibly obsessed with themselves. Scientists think people can stop changing anywhere between the early teenage years to late twenties. Not physically, but as a person. This is why it's so encouraged to wait until you're at least 25 to marry because a lot of people are still developing themselves and in two years they may not be compatible anymore. Mrs. Smith, cooky as she can be, was a psychologist/marriage counselor/school counselor/all of the above at one point and really does know a lot about this stuff. So we went around the room and said whether or not we thought we were still changing, growing. As we are still pretty darn young, most girls weren't done yet. I didn't think so either, but Mrs. Smith totally disagrees. And this is where I get so darn confused. What makes her think I'm going to stay the same person for the rest of my life, while Erin and Evelywn are still going to shift? Am I that different? Granted, she said the same about Danielle, but I guess I can sort of see that. I may not really like her, but she seems pretty confident and unlikely to waver in who she is. Can I just not tell that about myself because I am me? Do I even know who 'me' is? Am I going to spend the rest of my life figuring it out? And who about everyone else? Do they hide something because they're confused or do they hide nothing because they haven't gotten to a point where there's anything to hide? Do people feel like they have to fit to a standard, even if that standard is something they don't like? Or am I just completely over-analyzing the human race? Are people really that complicated?

It's stuff like this that keeps me up at night, wondering. Then I hope someone will get online so I can get it off my mind. Because as crazy as it sounds, it still makes sense to me sometimes. At camp, I'm a different person. I can't explain it, but I just feel so much more relaxed, and I feel like I am me there, not this person who zones through each day, working because it's expected and not because I want to, laughing when I can and praying for an end. I feel like at camp I'm the person I could grow to be, one day. But apparently I've stopped. So is the person at camp the true me and has Mrs. Smith been seeing just a really good picture or am I going to intertwine the two and she's wrong? Or am I relying too much on the theories of a 50-some year old teacher? Can I create a future for myself or is it set before me, waiting for me to capture it?

And my response A.K.A. "The longest comment in the history of the world EVER":

That was a really interesting post. Definitely got me thinking. I'd be curious to know what you thought about me in regards to the questions you posed, about how I convey myself and where I am in growing. I wouldn't take offense to anything you would say, I'm just curious.

And I can see what Mrs. Smith was saying about you having grown more than other people. I can't think of a very eloquent way of describing it right now, but you come across like a very grounded person. Of course, I'm speaking from the perspective of someone who has known you for 10 years and not someone you just met, so maybe I'm a bit jaded as to your personality. It's like I've known you so long and I see you so frequently - almost every day if you think about it - that I might not be the best person to judge shifts in your personality or behavior or "growth". Maybe you aren't the best person to judge mine, either. And like you said, maybe it's naive of us to think that we can discern subtle changes within ourselves because, well, we're US. We can't exactly step away from ourselves and then come back later and go, "You know, I think you've really grown as a person." I think it just kind of happens. I think sometimes it happens gradually and other times something happens in our lives that causes a more sudden change.

But I do feel more mature than most people my age. Not to sound braggy. I don't even think it's necessarily a good thing all the time. And, not to make inaccurate assumptions here, but you seem that way too. Not that we don't do normal teenage stuff and laugh about statues that look like they're taking dumps, but you know what I mean. Overall, I feel like I'm probably pretty far along on the growth spectrum. Not that I'm completely done yet.

My dad used to say that he felt like he was born 40, and he was joking and exaggerating of course, but I get what he meant because I kind of feel that way too. But it's also kind of sad to think that I'm done growing now. It's like, then what's the point of going through the rest of adolescence? Isn't highschool and college supposed to be all about "discovering yourself"? If I'm already "me", then what's the point?

I don't really have a specific place where I feel the most like me like you have with camp, but I definitely feel more like myself around certain people. People I'm comfortable with and usually people I've known for a fairly long time. But when I think about why I feel more like myself around these people, I'm sort of at a loss for a good explanation, one that's more than just, "I don't know...I just feel more like 'me'". Because that's using the word in the definition and you're not supposed to do that. It doesn't help anyone. This is why I hate interviews where the person says, "So...tell me about yourself." I always freeze up. Where do I start? What aspect of myself do they want to hear about? How do I even describe 'me'?

Maybe you've really finished growing when you can answer that question. When you can say, without a doubt, "This is who I am. Deal with it."

And now I've written a book under your "comments" section. Sorry about that. But it's a total compliment to you and the fact that you got me thinking and writing this much. And just when I was complaining about writer's block. Ha. Love you Morrrrrrgan!

Ally :)

*Comment and share your thoughts!

Brooke Shield's Memoir: The Blog Version

2007-10-18T21:41:00.000-04:00

I usually start off strong and motivated. I open up a word document (or blank blogger post), blast some Dashboard Confessional, and say to myself, "Okay, let's do this bitch." But sometimes - especially with writing assignments that are due at a specific date or are about a particular topic - I reach that point, the point that all writer's reach, where it takes every fiber of my being not to throw my laptop out a window. Or at someone. (It is not advised to be near me when I write. Unless you like expletives thrown your way for something you have absolutely no control over. Then maybe we can work something out.)

Sometimes I feel like I read over things that I write so many times trying to edit and revise them I become immune to my writing. I don't even absorb the effects of it anymore. And with that immunity comes, frustratingly enough, a sense of powerlessness, that "I-know-what-I'm-trying-to-say-I-just-can't-seem-to-say-it" feeling. And when I try to explain my predicament to another person it just comes out like, "Well...see...if I put this thingy here then this thing gets all funky and it messes up that thought, but if I take that out, it sounds weird. Ya know?" But they don't know.

The best way I can think of to describe it is that I feel like a mother with post-partum depression. Let me clarify. It's as if writing is my baby, and I love it, of course, but I have to constantly remind myself why I love it to overcome the urge to pull an Andrea Yates. And I feel like a terrible person for admitting it, that this thing that I'm good at and enjoy doing is sometimes the last thing that I want to think about or discuss or share. I second guess myself in those moments, why I would choose to do something that is so frequently maddening.

Sometimes I want to give writing an extra long naptime, a virtual hibernation, and take some "mommy time". Except "mommy time" for me would be less Oprah-watching and bubble-bath-taking and more catching up on my TiVo and reading other people's blogs. But that's the thing: the more I read other people's writing, the more I feel compelled to write. The more I see other mothers with their babies, the more I think, "Yeah, your kid's pretty awesome, but my kid's awesomer. Just you wait and see." I'm totally that idiot parent with the "My kid can kick your honor roll student's ass" bumper sticker.

So that's why I do it. Because, yeah, writing screams and spits up and wakes me up at 3 a.m. wanting to watch Barney, but at the end of the day, I'd be pretty pissed if it wasn't around anymore. So I'm not going to throw it out a window. I'm just going to turn up my Dashboard. Let's do this bitch.

Just Saying.

2007-10-17T17:43:00.000-04:00

Tori Spelling always looks like she just got her wisdom teeth removed.

He May Be Unfortunate Looking, But I'd Totally Marry Him.

2007-10-16T20:50:00.000-04:00

Did anyone catch Conan last night? It was seriously one of the funniest episodes I have ever seen, and I've seen a lot of Conan episodes. About halfway through the show, something happened on the 5th floor of NBC (that ended up being a false alarm) and they kept interrupting the show with alarms and announcements, which of course ended up being hysterical because it's Conan and Conan is always hysterical. So I've posted the two segments with the alarms. They are seriously SO FUNNY, I promise you it is worth it to watch both of them. I mean, come on. You can't spare 12 minutes for Conan? Please.

*Aside: In the second segment, Conan's guest (actress Paget Brewster) mentions that she once worked in a whore house answering phones and she says that she worked there but she didn't "whore or hook". And Conan's all, "You didn't whore? You didn't hook? Are those even the right words? What should you say?", which is a question I brought up a month ago in this post. Funny how Conan had the same question. Except, you know, it's probably better that he pondered that question on his show instead of in the middle of pre-calc class like I did. Whoops.

Porn And Coffee

2007-10-16T17:17:00.000-04:00

So recently I was in line at Starbucks behind these two girls and one of them started bitching to the other one about how she had found her boyfriend's porn. And I'm not the kind of person to but into someone else's conversation, so I didn't, but it just struck me as such an irrational freak out. I mean, seriously. Who cares? He's not cheating on you. *Gasp!* Your boyfriend watches porn! Travesty of all travesties!

I mean, personally, I'm not into it (as I think most girls aren’t), but that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand that every once in a while a guy needs to enter into an erotic fantasy where a handsome space captain is kidnapped by a sexy race of aliens to mate with their exotic daughters and keep their race alive, or whatever the hell kind of crazy plotlines porn movies have.

But honestly. A teenage guy saying he never watches porn is like a teenage girl saying she doesn't own too many pairs of shoes. 99% of the time, it's a lie.

But Bachelor parties, on the other hand, are a different story. I am NOT cool with bachelor parties. It’s like, tomorrow you want to commit to spending the rest of your life with me, but tonight you want to rub your hands all over a stripper’s tits and shove dollar bills down her crotch? How about no?

I guess the whole "bachelor party" thing bothers me because it's more real. There's touching and lapdances. At least flipping through a magazine or surfing the internet is fairly distant.

"But aren't I enough?" one of the girls asked. "Why does he need to look at that if he has me to look at?" And the answer to that, I wanted to tell her, is simple: Sure, he's seen your boobs. But he hasn't seen her boobs.

Duh.

I'm Needy.

2007-10-15T17:40:00.000-04:00

10 things I want:

1. Leigh Lezark's cheekbones:

2. Leigh Lezark's boyfriend
3. This necklace
4. Someone to take a good picture of me
5. Sarah Mclachlan's vocal chords
6. This outfit. Hair, makeup, everything. Perfection:

7. To go to Paris
8. and meet a nice Parisian boy
9. who will show me around the city and speak to me in French
10. To stop daydreaming about things I will never have and actually get something done

What Happens On The Rare Occasion That I Don't Have An Assload Of Homework On Sunday Night

2007-10-14T23:07:00.000-04:00

I have uploaded the rest of the pictures from the beach trip onto my Flickr account:

www.flickr.com/photos/allyvg

I really need to upgrade my account. I can't deal with this 60 pictures a month bullshit much longer.

As Long As He Doesn't Know Who Dolce And Gabbana Are, I Wouldn't Be Concerned.

2007-10-14T21:01:00.000-04:00

Colleen: My boyfriend told me he secretly really wants to learn how to ice skate.

Me: Wow. He must feel really comfortable with you to admit something like that. Most girls would probably judge a guy for saying something like that.

Colleen: Yeah, he tells me a lot of things he doesn't tell other people.

Me: Hey, this reminds me of a joke.

Colleen: Okay...

Me: What's the hardest thing about ice skating?

Colleen: What?

Me: Telling your parents you're gay.

Colleen: [laughs]

Me: Yeah, tell him that one's from Ally.

It's Like An Inheritance You Left To Yourself.

2007-10-13T16:21:00.000-04:00

While I love shiny, pretty and expensive things, sometimes I do just enjoy the simple things in life. Like when I set my iTunes to shuffle and re-discover a great song I haven't heard in a while. That happened to me the other day when my shuffle landed on "A Letter To Elise" by The Cure. I have seriously listened to that song (the acoustic version) like 30 times in the past two days. I love The Cure, but when I feel like listening to them I usually go to one of their more well-known songs like "Just Like Heaven" (one of the best love songs of all time in my opinion) or "Pictures of You".

But re-discovering what an amazing song "A Letter To Elise" is did have its downside because now I feel like a terrible person for ever having downloaded "Crank That" by Soulja Boy. (I'm not gonna lie. It's a guilty pleasure.)

Songs other than "A Letter To Elise" that I am currently obsessed with:

Tori Amos - Bouncing Off Clouds
Radiohead - Talk Show Host
Maria Taylor - Song Beneath The Song
Dave Matthews Band - Typical Situation
Rufus Wainwright - Pretty Things
Sarah Mclachlan - Good Enough
General Public - Tenderness

Her Handwriting Was Bad, But Does Anyone Really Say They Eat "Asian"? I Mean, Really.

2007-10-12T15:37:00.000-04:00

[looking at a psychology survey Erin gave to a Freshman for Psychology class]

Erin: Some of these answers are weird. Like I swear this girl is dyslexic. The question was, "What kind of food would you eat on a date?" and look how she spelled "Asian": S-A-I-A-N.

Morrgan: Um...Erin. That says, "Salad".

Erin: Ooooh.

Morrgan: Who's dyslexic now?

Erin: Shut up.

I Love The Smell Of A Blog Comment In The Morning.

2007-10-11T17:04:00.000-04:00

I woke up earlier than usual this morning to finish some English homework from last night, but as usual I got distracted by my inbox. I swear to god, the devil designed that little red box on the mail icon because no matter how much I have to do and how much I shouldn't click on it, I always click on it. It's a disease. I need injections or something.

So anyway, I open my inbox and see that I have received new blog comments. And when I get comments on anything, even an interesting comment on a school paper, I suddenly turn into a four year old on Christmas morning. "Oh my god! She wrote, 'Nice insight!' How awesome is that?!"

So you can imagine my response to see that I had been tagged by Girls Are Bitchy and that Morrgan had read my "50 Things About Me" post and decided to do the same thing on her LiveJournal. It was so entertaining that I sat there at my computer for a half hour - a half hour I should have been reading about Thomas Jefferson - catching up on various blogs and comments. Thomas Jefferson would just have to wait, wouldn't he?

So I never really ended up doing my English homework. Well, technically, I did it. And by "technically" I mean that I wrote a few sentences for each question that were mildly coherent and mentioned the words "Jefferson" and "declaration" every so often so that when she went by and checked it, it looked as though I had put some effort into it. But I actually didn't know anything more about Thomas Jefferson after "completing" the assignment than I did in fourth grade. Thank god I wasn't asked anything in class about him because the best response I could have come up would have probably been something along the lines of, "T.J. was a pretty awesome guy who did some pretty sweet things. And then he died. And wrote a really boring autobiography that you're making us read and by the way, why are you making us read this?"

Seriously, I don't understand why my English class this year is so historically focused. All we've done so far this year is read snippets from biographies of prominent colonial, puritanical and Enlightenment figures like William Bradford, Jonathan Edwards, Benjamin Franklin....god I can't even remember any others, they were so boring.

Last night we were supposed to answer a bunch of questions about the Declaration of Independence, which is something I have absolutely no interest in and think should be optional study after you learn the basics in the seventh grade. I completely B.S.ed my way through the assignment because honestly, when am I ever going to need to be able to list the grievances against the King of England later in my life? I'm not going to be a history major, so screw that. All you really need to know is that T.J. was all, "Hey, King, you suck. You're kind of a douchebag with our laws and our taxes, so we're going to declare independence and emancipate ourselves from your ass." And the King was all, "Bite me."

See that? That right there was what we spent an hour and forty five minutes on today. I should teach History to children everywhere.

Side Note: So as I mentioned before, I was tagged by Girls Are Bitchy in a sort of blogger chain-mail type thingy and while I really appreciate the tag (I appreciate any tag), I am vehemently anti-chain-mail. Anything that requires you to do something and then pass it on to a certain number of people annoys me and I'm not trying to be disrespectful by not sending it back, I just don't have the patience. But I do enjoy reading Girls Are Bitchy, and since she was the one who tagged me, I definitely want to show her blog some love and tag her back. Because I'm a nice person and fellow blogger. Really, I am. What? I tagged her three times in this post. That's more than the one tag it required. So read her blog (four!)! And tag me! (I'll tag you back, just as long as it isn't part of one of those "tag bloggers whose last name ends in 'z' and who loves peanut butter!' type of things. It won't happen.)

50 Things About Me Including Some Things That I Don't Particularly Want To Admit But Will Anyway

2007-10-10T18:39:00.000-04:00

(This was going to be '100 Things About Me', but have you ever tried writing 100 interesting things about yourself? It's very difficult.)

1. I love making lists. Not productive lists, though, like grocery lists or shopping lists. More like, “Things I’d Like To Do To Clive Owen.”

2. I love Clive Owen.

3. Seeing only the cab of a truck driving down the highway makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. I don’t know why.

4. I like the smell of nail polish remover.

5. I never miss the “Headlines” segment on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno. It’s the only good thing about Mondays.

6. I don’t care about a guy’s muscles.

7. I feel way older than sixteen.

8. I don’t wear much makeup because I’m afraid of becoming one of those people who look bad or unrecognizable without it.

9. My favorite color is black.

10. I can’t even draw a stick figure.

11. I feel most at home at the beach.

12. I love filling out surveys and questionnaires.

13. Red-haired babies kind of freak me out. Not read haired people, just red-haired babies.

14. I’m a total news junkie. I love Larry King and Keith Olbermann and I fall asleep with CNN on every night.

15. I know every word to the “Fresh Prince of Bel Air” theme song.

16. My mind has taken up permanent residence in “the gutter.”

17. I hate musicals with the white-hot fire of a thousand suns.

18. I have a bad habit of staring and eavesdropping on people’s conversations.

19. I have never been to a wedding.

20. I never learned how to ride a bike.

21. I have more than one group of freckles on my face that form a triangle, the most noticeable one being three freckles under my right eye. I don't know what this means or why I'm including it, but it seems important.

22. I love more than one person with my whole heart.

23. I have never cheated on anything.

24. I'm still not really sure how a fax machine works.

25. I got in trouble in 2nd grade for writing a note to a friend in which I called my teacher an "animorph."

26. When I have the hiccups, I laugh hysterically between each one. I find the whole thing hilarious.

27. I have a girlcrush on Rachel McAdams.

28. Fall is my favorite season. Or maybe Spring.

29. I love watching game shows, especially old ones like Match Game. Contemporary game show I'm addicted to: Cash Cab.

30. My first concert was Hootie and The Blowfish. I was eight.

31. I don't like blonde guys or red-haired guys. They must be dark haired (and preferably dark-eyed), though there may be some exceptions.

32. I have seen every episode of Sex & The City and Friends.

33. I have gone to Catholic school my whole life, but I'm agnostic.

34. I don't find any amusement to be had at amusement parks.

35. I am NOT a morning person.

36. I hate math and science. They are my worst subjects.

37. I think a baby or a toddler with a pacifier in its mouth is the cutest thing on the planet and feel compelled, when I see such a baby or toddler in public, to point this fact out to those around me. "Oh my god, baby with a pacifier! Cutest effing thing ever!"

38. I don't like chocolate ice cream or Hershey's syrup unless it's in chocolate milk.

39. I'd love to be an editor or write for a magazine one day.

40. My favorite word is "Balenciaga". Just say it with me: Bal-en-ci-a-ga.

41. I don't have an athletic cell in my body.

42. The first purchase I make when I graduate from college is going to be a golden retriever puppy.

43. Do NOT audibly chew within a foot of my ear. Thank you.

44. I met Dave Chappelle a few months ago and got his autograph. He was really nice.

45. I LOVE museums. Especially art museums. MoMA is my favorite. Or The Guggenheim.

46. Caffeine doesn't affect me. I can drink a Red Bull or have an espresso and still be chill.

47. Most people get hyper; I just get talkative.

48. I'd rather sit in a class and take notes and listen to the teacher talk the whole time than have to do anything hands on, like a lab. I hate labs.

49. A guy with an accent is just that much hotter.

50. I have seen every Romantic Comedy ever made. Okay, not really but it feels like I've seen every Romantic Comedy every made.

Why Can't I Just Sleep Until Saturday Morning?

2007-10-09T11:31:00.000-04:00

I'm sick. And it sucks.

I woke up yesterday morning with a bad sore throat and headache and now I've been sleeping the majority of the last 48 hours. Yeterday I slept until 3. Yes, you read that right. THREE. PM.

I really hope I don't have mono because that would suck sweaty goat balls. I thought I had mono like six months ago when I actually felt a lot worse than I do now, but I didn't have it, so I'm pretty sure I'm okay. I do feel a little bit better than yesterday. I mean, I only slept until 11 today. 14 hours. High five!

But I have to go la escuela tomorrow because I really shouldn't miss more than 2 days in a row and because I have a pre-calc test last period. Whoop-de-shit.

People I'd Like To Throw Off A Bridge

2007-10-07T10:22:00.000-04:00

Anyone who adds y's and ie's unneccesarily to the end of words. Like instead of saying, "After I eat this sandwich I am going to go make some cupcakes," they'll say, "After I eat this sammy I am going to go make some cuppies!" It's like, no, you're not, because I am going to PUT YOUR HEAD IN A BLENDER.

Ann Coulter

Anyone who thinks Everybody Loves Raymond is funny

Teachers who assign busy work on the weekends

People who wear Crocs out to places like restaurants and the mall. I don't care how comfortable they are, you look like a dumbass.

Whoever invented coordinate planes and pre-calculus.

Pete Wentz. He's such a douchebag.

Creepiest. Video. Ever.

2007-10-06T16:55:00.000-04:00

It's for a song called "What's a Girl to do?" by a band called Bat For Lashes. I saw it on FUSE. When I heard the first couple of seconds, I thought it was "Just Like Honey" by The Jesus and Mary Chain, which I love, but then I saw that it was this creepy video instead:

So to make up for that disturbing video which will no doubt give me nightmares about rabbits chasing me on bikes, here's one of Jim Gaffigan on Conan doing an entire set about bacon. Hilarious:

Mine Is "Balenciaga".

2007-10-05T16:11:00.000-04:00

[today at lunch]

Morrgan: Christy is always asking me what words mean. She'll come out of SAT Practice and be like, "What does 'fickle' mean?"

Lauren: What DOES 'fickle' mean?

Morrgan: Something that's constantly changing, like a person who can't make up their mind.

Lauren: But why would you say 'fickle'? Why wouldn't you just use...like....regular...words?

Me: Because 'fickle' is a fun word.

Erin: I think 'fickle' is my new second favorite word.

Me: What's your first favorite word?

Erin: Skank.

300 Words Of Fiction

2007-10-04T19:00:00.000-04:00

The following was inspired by reading Christy's college narrative today, though this is obviously not as good because it lacks the phrase "a cornucopia of kinlin":

She laid on the floor of her bedroom on her back, flipping through a cliche of a teenage magazine. Back to school tips. Posters of heartthrobs. Embarrassing stories about clogging the bathroom at a boyfriend’s house. She understood that these magazines were not, in reality, read by girls of the age suggested by the magazine’s title, but instead by girls several years younger. She remembered stealing her older sister’s Seventeen magazine when she was merely twelve and feeling as guilty as if she had ordered something on Skinemax. Clutching the magazine to her chest, she would scurry quickly down the hall before anyone could catch her and then lock the door, lay on her floor and flip through the forbidden pages.

Now she is back in the same spot, but holding the magazine in her hand, she feels a certain maturity she knows wasn’t there before. She has learned what to absorb and what to ignore, what truly affects her in the long run and what is simply temporary drama or entertainment. Her age now mirrors the title of the magazine, but each birthday over the past several years has accompanied a change within her, a shift only discernible to the people closest to her.

Her house, she thinks, feels different. The change is palpable and uncomfortable. The hardwood floor is so cold she can feel it in her bones. Her body hurts, so she shifts, but does not get up. The voices downstairs sound more distant than they should, and she thinks for a brief moment that that might be significant in some way. That maybe subconsciously she is blocking out the possible conversations, arguments, any mention of her name. But as soon as the thought enters her mind, she pushes it back, out of fear, indifference, or some newfound maturity.

Update: I looked up 'cornucopia' in an online dictionary to make sure I spelled it right because I'm retarded and that is something I would totally do and thought the definition was hilarious: "a symbol of plenty consisting of a goat's horn overflowing with flowers, fruit and corn". Does anyone else find that hilarious, or is my sleep deprivation making me a go a little crazier than I thought? Well, either way I think I'm going to go to bed now. Or maybe I'll watch Annapolis, which happens to be on cable. It really isn't my type of movie - it's about marines for christ's sake - but it has James Franco in it and I would follow him into the ninth circle of hell, so you can pretty much guarantee that I'll be planted on the couch for the next hour and forty five minutes, completely riveted.

I Just Wanted To Poke You, I Swear.

2007-10-04T16:21:00.001-04:00

Me: Hey, I tagged a bunch of pictures of you from yesterday on Facebook.

Melissa: I don't really go on Facebook that much.

Me: Why not?

Melissa: Because I hate how people always, like, do weird virtual things to you on Facebook.

Me: Like poke you?

Melissa: Yeah, like, whenever I go on there it's like, " 'A vampire witch has cast a Harry Potter spell on you and then a bunny jumped three times and sang you a song!' and I'm like, 'Um...IGNORE!'"

D.C. Trip In A Nutshell

2007-10-03T21:47:00.000-04:00

I was way more amused with the ducks than any memorial we saw in the first half of our trip. I know they were just looking for food, but it struck me as funny the way they kept bobbing under water like that. In the video you can hear Catherine go, "ALLY! We have to GO!" and I'm like, "Wait! Hang on!" Cause the ducks? They were so much more important than the Lincoln Memorial.

Then as we were waiting for one of our buses to arrive, two girls from my class decided to teach one of my teachers the Soulja Boy dance. She is so hysterical:

And, because I'm too lazy to upload any other pictures, here's a cute one of me and Catherine. (Side Note: Are my legs not the palest things ever? This picture is like an ad for self tanner.)

Of Course I Found No Money.

2007-10-02T19:16:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow morning at 7 AM I will be sleepwalking onto a bus to go to Washington, D.C. for a school field trip. Earlier I was searching the various drawers in my room for things to do on the bus - like a MadLib or something - but instead I found the following:

27 mechanical pencils
An emo Christmas card from Morrgan
A package of Sudafed
Stickers
A "Women in Mathematics" project from ages ago that I got a 99 on because my teacher felt the need to deduct a point because the clip art I chose for the cover depicted a male teacher. Next to my grade she wrote, "A MAN? On the COVER??" That just amused me endlessly.
Two pairs of goggles
Vocab notecards from 9th grade
A receipt from The Gap from March 3rd, 2006

All of which are of course excellent sources of entertainment for a bus trip. I recommend you all go out and get them right now for your future entertainment purposes.

I Am Officially In Love With This Song.

2007-10-02T06:49:00.000-04:00

It's called "Missed The Boat" by Modest Mouse. I love the song and I especially love the lyrics:

While we're on the subject
Could we change the subject now?
I was knocking on your ears
Don't worry, you were always out
Looking towards the future
We were begging for the past
Well we knew we had the good things
But those never seemed to last
Oh please just last

Everyone's unhappy
Everyone's ashamed
Well we all just got caught looking
At somebody else's page
Well nothing ever went
Quite exactly as we planned
Our ideas held no water
But we used them like a damn

Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell
Saying yes, this is a fine promotion
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell

Of course everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch
We were suddenly uncertain
At least I'm pretty sure I am
Well we didn't need the water
But we just built that go god damn

Oh, and I know this all myself
I stood in front for all the people
Oh, and I know this all myself
We listen while life hangs on
And the sound of life's sweet bliss

Was it ever worth it?
Was there all that much to gain?
Well we knew we missed the boat
And we'd already missed the plane
We didn't read the invite
We just dance at our wake
All our favorites were playing
So we could shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

Tiny curtains open and we heard the tiny clap of little hands
A tiny man would tell a little joke and get a tiny laugh from all the folks
Sitting drifting around in bubbles and thinking it was us that carried them
When we finally got it figured out that we had truly missed the boat

Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and we owned all the tools ourselves
But not the skills to make a shelf with
Oh, what useless tools ourselves

It's Okay To Love Your Pets, Just Don't LOVE Your Pets

2007-10-01T18:40:00.000-04:00

[via phone]

Me: Hey. How's D.C.?

Mom: It's good. I'm at a restaurant right now and the guy sitting behind me is talking about how he donated his kidney to his cat.

Me: His cat?

Mom: Yeah.

Me: Cat as in the animal? As in "meow"?

Mom: Yeah. It was dying of kidney failure so he gave it one of his.

Me: Oh my god, that is so weird.

Mom: Yeah, and there are a bunch of like Marine guys sitting with him and they're all like, "Seriously? You gave your kidney to a cat? What is wrong with you?"

Me: [laughs]

Mom: And his cat was 16. He spent like $10,000 on the operation and his cat's not even going to live that long anyway.

Me: Yeah, and plus now the guy doesn't have a back up kidney in case one of his fails. Dumbass.

Mom: The Marines are all making "How much did you pay for pussy?" jokes.

Me: [laughs] Wow. That's special.

Seriously.

2007-10-01T17:11:00.000-04:00

How am I supposed to do anything productive when there's a show called Lobster Wars on?

Got This Survey In An Email And I Couldn't Resist

2007-09-30T17:24:00.000-04:00

What's your name spelled backwards?: Ylla

What did you do last night?: I watched the movie "Little Children". I had been meaning to see it for a while because it got like 4 Oscar nominations and it sounded really interesting, but I didn't get around to renting it until last night. It ended up being even better than I thought it would be. The writing was brilliant and the acting was spot on. I can tell that it's going to be one of those movies that's going to stay with me for awhile. Just as a warning, by the way, the film is very disturbing in many places. Not pointlessly disturbing, though. Realistically and hauntingly disturbing. Jackie Earle Haley gave a really excellent performance as a pedophile desperately trying to recover unsuccessfully. He was nominated for an Oscar for his role. Kate Winslet was also nominated for an Academy Award and she was amazing in it. I also developed quite a crush on Patrick Wilson, even though isn't my type at all. Oh well, I'll make an exception for him. Here he is with Kate in the movie:

He looks very "young Paul Newman", no?

The last thing you downloaded onto your computer?: A bunch of songs as usual

Have you ever licked a 9 volt battery?: No...should I?

Last time you swam in a pool?: Um..the ocean, recently. But a pool? I can't remember. It's been awhile.

What are you wearing?: Pink sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Camera ready, for sure.

How many cars have you owned?: None. I don't have my license yet.

Type of music you dislike most?: Country and opera. I'd rather have a root canal.

Do you have cable?: Yes, and I am one of those people who would cease to exist without it.

What kind of computer do you use?: An Apple iBook G4 laptop

Ever made a prank phone call?: Not that I can remember, but - and I LOVE this story - one time in like 7th grade a couple of my friends dialed a random number and asked to speak to Stephanie and the woman who picked up said, "Hang on a second...Steeeepphhh, phone's for yoooouuuu!" They nearly died.

You like anyone right now?: Um...does Jude Law count? I mean, I know he's a celebrity and all but he did tell me he loved me last night after he crawled through my window into my bedroom. We cuddled into the wee hours.

Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?: I would probably say that I would and then get there and be all, "Um...just kidding, guys."

Furthest place you ever traveled?: California. Sad, I know. I want to leave the U.S. so badly.

What's your favorite comic strip?: I don't read comic strips, so I'm going to pretend this question asked about comedians. My favorite comedians, you ask? Oh, that's easy: Mike Birbiglia, Dane Cook, and Jim Gaffigan.

Do you know all the words to the national anthem?: Sadly, no. I just lip synch and mouth "watermelon" a lot.

Shower, morning or night?: Usually, night. On the weekends maybe in the morning, but during the week forget about it. It's a miracle I even get out of bed at 6:30 in the morning, let alone get in the shower. What are you trying to do, kill me? I got up, what do you want?

Best movie you've seen in the past month?: "Little Children", of course. And "Knocked Up" was pretty hilarious. And it was cute, but not too preachy. I hate preachy. If I wanted to watch something preachy I'd turn on 7th Heaven.

Favorite pizza toppings?: Pork sausage and extra cheese

Chips or popcorn?: Chips. Doritos. Fritos. If it smells like vomit and has 97 grams of saturated fat, I'll eat it.

Have you ever smoked peanut shells?: No, but considering the fact that I'm allergic to nuts, I'd probably be a pretty quick buzzkill to that party.

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant?: Hell no.

Orange Juice or apple?: Apple, but I really don't drink either of them all that much. I prefer soda. I like to know I'm one step closer to osteoporosis with each sip.

Who were the last people you sat at lunch with?: My usual people: Cat, Morgan, Evelwyn, Erin G., Erin M

Favorite chocolate bar?: Twix

Who is your longest friend and how long?: Um...probably Erin. I've been friends with her since Kindergarten, so like eleven years. Wow, I haven't thought about that in a while. That's a long time. We really grew up together. (Aaaw, 7th Heaven moment!)

Last time you ate a homegrown tomato?: What is this, the Waltons? I don't know, a long time.

Have you ever won a trophy?: Ha! No.

Favorite arcade game?: I'm struggling to think of an arcade game if that answers your question.

Ever ordered from an infomercial?: No, but I have been SO tempted to. I mean, how can you resist The Magic Bullet? It chops in less than ten seconds and the blender cover doubles as a cup! I mean, seriously.

Sprite or 7-UP?: Sprite all the way. 7-UP just tastes like watered-down Sprite.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school/work?: Every single day of my academic career. But it isn't all bad. I mean, at least you don't have to think about what you're going to wear in the morning.

Last thing you bought at Walgreens?: Haha, my mom and I made the most random purchase ever a few days ago. So random, in fact, that I actually remember it: a notebook, Trivial Pursuit poptarts (They're amazing, by the way. The flavor is 'quizberry'. I am so not even kidding), ribbon and a bottle of wine.

Ever thrown up in public?: Not that I can recall, thank god. I probably blocked it out.

Would you prefer being a millionaire or finding true love?: Definitely finding true love. I'm a romantic.

Spongebob or Jimmy Neutron?: Nickelodeon was so much better when I was a kid.

Did you have long hair as a young kid?: Yes. At one point around Kindergarten/1st grade, it reached down to my butt. My first boyfriend's pick-up line he used with me was that he loved my long, blonde hair and that he thought I was going to be a shampoo girl on TV one day. He looked like Christian Slater. *sigh*

What message is on your voicemail machine?: Currently a boring one - "Hi, you've reached blah blah blah..." - but I've been meaning to change it to the chorus of "Spiderwebs" by No Doubt. I need to get on that.

Where would you like to go right now?: Paris

Whats the name of your pet?: Technically, Faith. I named her when I was 8. But we never call her that. She has like 600 names. Baby face, Lovie, ohymygodlookatyouyouaresocuuuuuutee.....

What kind of back pack do you have, and what's in it?: It's lavender and made by L.L. Bean. It says, "Ally VG" on it in script. My old one said, "Mine". I kind of miss that one.

What do you think about most?: You. Just kidding.

Stick This In A Pipe And Smoke It

2007-09-28T18:45:00.000-04:00

My mom saw this in a book or something:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you NOT to be?

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our
presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson

I like that.

The Only Reason To Watch C-SPAN

2007-09-27T16:57:00.000-04:00

(Check out the background...)

Follow Me On An Amazing Journey Known As "My Day"

2007-09-26T18:06:00.000-04:00

Wake up at 6:30 to my alarm clock blasting "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers. Lie in bed debating whether to get up or not. Finally get up at 6:45.

Do the bare minimum of my morning routine and hardly look presentable. Decide that I would like to use the remaining 7 minutes to have a bowl of cereal. Nearly pass out at the thought that I am actually eating breakfast.

Get to school and change my books with five minutes to spare before the bell rings. Listen to Ashley talk about necrophelia and nearly dead women being impregnated by monks. I am awake at this point.

Go to Morning Gathering and listen to speaker after speaker drone on about Cross Country meets and lost lunchboxes. My principle declares that she "can feel the excitement in the air to begin this school day" but she says it monotonously. "That's not enthusiasm," I want to say to her. "That's panicking about finishing our homework last minute that's due next period while frantically shoving food in our faces and chugging Vitamin Water."

Go to second period, Biology. Get my interim grade. It's good, but Biology is also the easiest class on the face of the planet. Sit on a hard wooden stool and smell gerbil piss for the remaining hour and fifteen minutes of class while filling out a packet about carbohydrates, fats and proteins. Realize I am really hungry. Get another whiff of gerbil and change my mind.

Go to fourth period, U.S. History. Take a little field trip five blocks down the street to The Virginia Historical Society. My teacher walks so fast in order to meet our scheduled time that I think we break the record in the Guinness Book of World Records for "Fastest walk from school to museum."

Arrive at the museum 7.5 seconds after leaving school. Walk into the front hall and see a sign that says, "Pusey Museum Shop." This amuses Catherine and me, oh, A LOT.

Walk up the stairs to the Historical Society library. Watch and listen as a guide shows us actual court documents from witch trials that took place in Virginia in 1706. Realize my handwriting isn't really that bad after all.

Go back down to the first floor and through a Native American exhibit in which a curator has organized hundreds of arrowheads chronologically and I might add, beautifully, along a wall. I feel incompetent about the fact that I can't even organize my underwear drawer logically or prettily.

Leave museum. Take a little bit longer walking back. Arrive back at school a whole 9.5 seconds later.

Go to lunch. Inhale a Zone bar. No wait, first drink an entire can of Cherry Coke. Breaking a world record is tiring. Must quench thirst.

Go to Pre-Calculus. Learn how to do interval notation. Pay attention when she explains this because it sounds hard. Work on our homework while our grades are handed out. Turns out it isn't as hard as I thought. Praise the god of selected answers.

Go to advisory for SAT prep. Learn within two seconds of sitting down that the subject is Math and give up then and there. Finish the first section before time is up, but skip the last five questions of the second section entirely. Seriously question if at any point in my life someone will hold a gun to my head and demand to know, "If M and P are positive integers and (M + P) x M is even, which of the following must be true?"

Decorate an extra credit folder for my teacher. It looks terrible and I admit it. I told her before I was not artistically inclined, but did she listen? Nooooo.

Bell rings. I go to my locker and switch out my books. I eat half a bag of Pirate's Booty in the car on the way home.

I'm Back, Minus Gael

2007-09-25T19:48:00.000-04:00

Whew. Sorry about the hiatus there, but I was way too tired to function at a normal human level yesterday, let alone to post anything.

The beach trip was AMAZING, I had too much fun to describe and I definitely used all the batteries I took for my camera. I took 500 pictures. Literally. Then in the car on the way home I tried to narrow those pictures down drastically to only the ones I wanted to post on Facebook and I still ended up with 397. So last night I posted all of those on Facebook and now I am uploading them to my Flickr account which is a total bitch because the free Flickr account gives you a very limited amount of pictures you are allowed to upload each month. So I guess unfortunately these pictures are going to need to be added gradually.

See the first pictures here: www.flickr.com/photos/allyvg

The major highlight of this weekend was without a doubt on Saturday night (Sunday morning, actually) at 3 AM when my friend Elizabeth pierced my friend Erin's ear cartilage with a safety pin. I, of course, captured the whole thing on video. You can hear me at the end go, "Go, Erin! That was awesome! Woo!" And watch for my friend Catherine's reaction in the pink shirt in the background. PRICELESS.:

I also got some great pictures of the ear piercing aftermath, but I'm going to have to wait until Flickr stops spazzing out to post them.

So anyway...I'm too lazy to report much else right now. I'm still really tired having only gotten eight hours of sleep this weekend both nights combined. And my legs are covered in bug bites. I'm so itchy! And today was picture day. Just my luck.

We spent a good amount of time in the sun on the beach and everyone else got a tan, but I was so pale before that I just basically reached a state of normal pigmentation.

So yeah. More tomorrow.

If I Don't Return On Monday, I've Eloped With Gael

2007-09-20T17:27:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow afternoon (Friday) I will be leaving for the beach for Morgan's birthday! Nine of us are going not including Morgan: Me, Catherine, Erin. G., Erin M., Katie, Marie, Christy, Kathleen and Elizabeth. Evelwyn was supposed to go but she has to attend an SAT prep class on Saturday that her parents have already paid for. I told her that she is going to ace her SATs now and that we are all going to fail but it's going to be soooooo worth it.

It's about a three hour drive down there, maybe more depending on traffic, so I'm definitely bringing myPod for some entertainment. Although I don't think I'll even end up using it seeing that I'll be in the car with two of my friends and trust me, my friends are more entertaining than any entertainment gadgety thing.

So after I finish writing this I have to pack and let me just say that if I had to write a list of things that make me want to go all Sylvia Plath and stick my head in an oven (ooh, post idea!) then attempting to pack efficiently and lightly is one of them. I always overpack. When an empty suitcase is laid in front of me, the part of my brain devoted to reason seems to shut down entirely and I find myself coming up with implausible scenarios that just might happen where I'm going for the simple reason that I'm there. What if it drops below thirty degrees at the beach in September and I need a parka and maybe some gloves? What if I run into Gael Garcia Bernal on the mini-golf course? I'll want to look my best, won't I?

But since there are nine of us taking three cars and some of us are bringing our backpacks along as well, I feel like for the sake of the sanity of the adults accompanying us I need to be reasonable with my packing. I am trying desperately to fit everything into a moderately sized tote bag, which I have found requires rolling my big, baggy sweatpants into a ball the size of a wallet. I know it's Morgan's birthday and all, but if I can successfully fit all my shit for the weekend into a single tote bag, I think I deserve a present.

I am really looking forward to spending some time on the beach even if it won't be lying under the stars wrapped in a passionate embrace with Gael Garcia Bernal. More likely I will be tripping over my own feet and face planting myself in the sand. Hey, at least I'll be around people who understand my retardation and accept it. And who will document it on their cameras.

I of course packed my camera and about 19,000 batteries. Just over 19,000. About 19,200 I'd guesstimate.

So there will definitely be many, many pictures on Monday! And some pretty funny stories I bet, too. Adios por el fin de semana!

Is This Thing On?

2007-09-19T17:22:00.000-04:00

So I know that I've only had this blog for like a month, but I have been checking my stats every so often and thanks to StatCounter - which allows me to see where each person who views this blog is from and the dates that they view it - I have noticed that I have quite a few returning visitors from around the country and the world. Some of the places they are from include:

Dallas, Texas
Fairfax, Virginia
Chicago, Illinois
Arnold, Maryland
Reston, Virginia
Bridgewater, New Jersey
Tampa, Florida
Carlisle, Pennsylvania
Bayonne, New Jersey
Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh, India
Louisville, Kentucky
Murcia, Spain
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Bradford, England
Westminster, California

Now, don't get me wrong, I am totally not complaining about the fact that strangers from all over the world come back to this site to read what I write. The exact opposite is true. I am extremely flattered and frankly a little bit shocked that so many people other than my family and friends are reading this blog this early on. I started it a month ago.

But I do have a small complaint, one little request: could I have some feedback here?

Hardly anyone comments on the posts or in the cbox and not to be too demanding, but people, that is why those features are there. I would love to hear what you guys think. What do you want me to write more about or less about? What do you think about my style? Would you enjoy some serious, not-so-funny posts or is the appeal of this blog mainly the humor? Basically, any constructive criticism is welcome.

We had a peer review session today in English class, which is what started me on this little rant here. A fellow student in my class read my essay and then handed me back an evaluation sheet and I must say, she did an excellent job. I really appreciate her revisions and I feel like when I turn in my final draft in a couple of days it will be a better paper.

I think one of the main decisions you make when you set out to write anything is: who do you want do share it with? Only your friends? Only your teacher? No one? And for me, at least, one of the most appealing things about a blog is that it allows for a dialog. People read, they comment, you listen, sometimes you agree and sometimes you don't, but that's okay. Sometimes comments aren't even supposed to be critical, they're just fun. And honestly, even though I just wrote this long post about the importance of criticism, those pointless entertaining comments are my favorite ones to read on other peoples' blogs. So amuse me, people!

Another thing - and anyone who knows me knows this already - is that I amuse myself. Highly. I find myself deeply entertaining. So I figure, why not put my writing out there for other people to relate to or object to or simply be entertained by as well?

It would just be nice to not feel so much like this dialogue is one-sided. It's like when I'm in my room and I have an entire conversation with my mom in the kitchen and then I walk out into the kitchen and realize she's been next door the whole time.

And as unfortunate as it is, I really don't think my kitchen appliances care that much about Jennifer Aniston's love life or the fact that Angelina Jolie is adopting another Cambodian child.

Screw The Witches, I Am About To Hang Myself.

2007-09-18T16:56:00.000-04:00

I have to write a paper tonight on The Crucible, which we just read in English class and as usual, I am completely unmotivated to do it. I mean, seriously, I would rather be:

Driving a rusty spike through my forehead.

Eating a bowl of toenails.

Licking envelopes.

Ironing.

Listening to Fall Out Boy.

Listening to President Bush speak.

Drinking a bottle of Robitussin.