Another Secret

I think in a British accent.

How To Become a Celebrity

Step 1: Star in a bad movie.

Step 2: Start doing drugs.

Step 3: Be caught using those drugs in a public place. Get lots of media attention.

Step 4: Milk that attention for all it's worth.

Step 5: Star in another bad movie.

Step 6: Make a music video. (Singing talent optional)

Step 7: Make a fragrance.

Step 8: Make a clothing line for Walmart.

Step 9: Stop making movies and dedicate yourself to doing commercials for something they pay you to be passionate about.

Step 10: Die of an overdose.

Result: Go down in history as one of the greatest actors of all time.

Another secret

I won't pass by the staircase at night when it's completely pitch black because of the monsters that live in the dark.

A secret

My secret?

I don't think I'll ever meet that special someone.

Would you kill Batman?

So, let's say that they're making a third Batman movie starring Christian Bale. Only, let's say that Christian Bale has decided that he doesn't want to play Batman anymore, and this will be his last time playing the role. Rather than find a new Batman, the studio decides that they won't be making anymore movies. Well, since they won't be making anymore movies, they decide that they may as well kill Batman.

Does this make sense to you? 'cause it doesn't make any sense to me!!

Why can't you kill Batman? HELLO? Batman is a legend, and he's been around for around a thousand years! (In case you hadn't figured out, I'm not actually talking about Batman here. I'd be referring to another legend. Carry on, then.) Just because YOUR measly little studio can't make any more Batman movies doesn't mean you can kill the legend! You can't kill legends! I mean... that's.... that's just something... you.... YOU DON'T DO THAT.

Look, not saying that the series was the most terrific thing ever written. In fact, the show got rather cheesy in the third season. When your leading female actor leaves the show, you can't kill off the character that is pretty much central to the story. You send her away, yes, but you don't kill her. Granted, it did make some interesting plot lines going for the bad guy, yes. But still. And by the way, the new girl they got to replace her? The blonde? HATE HER. Seriously, so annoying.

But back to the issue at hand. I mean, the legend goes on for years, covering... uh... Batman's whole life! It's well established that he's a very old very white-haired man when he dies. And you're just gonna screw with that? You're gonna play with the continuity like that?

Who do you think you are, George Lucas???

When your series ends, you have your legendary character, your Batman, going off into the forest to continue his fight. Because the legend must always continue. What you DON'T do is have him poisoned, then have him wander off to die alone while hallucinating about his dead girlfriend. Seriously. You just don't.

You don't.

A list

I like lists. And I'm bored, and avoiding music homework.

Random facts about me.

1. I know someone that was on the Grammys.
2. I am sort of a math geek, I guess.
3. I sing with a British accent.
4. Very badly.
5. Since the Bad Channel killed Stargate, my favorite TV show is now Castle.
6. And Nathan Fillion has surpassed Matthew Broderick as my favorite actor.
7. I'm thinking about sending away for my own Billy Mays sticker.
8. Also wondering where I could put him.
9. And wondering if I could get like 20 to put up in various places.
10. Keeping one for myself, obviously.
11. I miss Billy Mays.
12. And I still insist that the Sham Wow guy killed him.
13. Speaking of conspiracies, Roswell was totally a cover up.
14. But not of aliens.
15. Yeah, just out testing secret aircraft. We do crap like that.
16. Also speaking of conspiracies, Oswald acted alone.
17. I know American Sign Language.
18. I think I'm "conversational", though I don't know the difference between "conversational" and "fluent".
19. And I don't feel like looking it up.
20. Every time I look something up, I go to Wikipedia.
21. I start all my research for research papers on Wikipedia and use their links.
22. I can't spell "cookie".
23. "Wookiee", however, I can spell correctly every time.
24. I insist that the real spelling of "handful" is "handfull". I mean, hello? Hand. Full. Handfull.
25. And yes, I still maintain that the correct pronunciation is "DAY-ih-tee".
26. I only passed math class because I didn't pay attention to the professor.
28. I don't like normal music.
29. I like Irish music, country music that isn't Kenny Chesney, Sugarland, or ... well... George Strait.
30. But I don't admit that I don't like George Strait, 'cause you just can't say that.
31. Even though I just said it to the whole darned internet.
32. Doesn't matter. No one reads this anyhow.
33. No, I have no illusions about anyone ever reading this blog. I just like to talk to all of you imaginary readers.
34. It's like talking to the boxes at JCP.
35. I think I learned to make lists from Skippy.
36. Because my lists never quite make sense.
37. It's probably been two hours since I last wrote anything on my music concert report.
27. I moved number 27 over here... just to see if you were paying attention.
38. Yeah, I'm bored.
39. I feel like writing a short story, but I don't know what about.
40. I feel like writing about my jester, but seeing as I killed him off in the last story...
41. Unless I make him a zombie. But then that creates a whole new set of problems.
42. I left my Christmas lights up all year.
43. And I never stopped playing Christmas music from last December.
44. I hate New Years.
45. In fact, it is my least favorite holiday.
46. My second least favorite is Valentines Day.
47. By the way, when I take over the world, those two holidays will be the first to go.
48. They will be replaced with Star Wars Day on May 4th (As in May The Fourth be with you), and International Talk Like a Pirate Day.
49. If you need me to tell you when International Talk Like a Pirate Day is, get off this blog.
50. Right now.
51. No, you can't look it up on Wikipedia.
52. Or Google it.
53. Just go.
54. It's better this way.
55.I probably should get to work on that paper.
56. Yeah. I'm gonna do that now.
57. And I'm just going to stop this list at 57, 'cause that's a really random number.

Bored.

Bored. Bored. Really bored.

I have to write a concert report for Music Appreciation. I've already written one, and it all just seems to be very repetetive. It's due tomorrow, so, no choice in the matter. But I really don't wanna write it!! It's so BORING!

I'm seriously tempted to write it in adventure story mode. That way me AND the professor would get some entertainment.

"And then the heroic conductor came out of the wings riding on a pegasus to a fanfare of the orchestra tuning their instruments! With a great clash of noise, they welcomed the mighty titan!"

Yeah. That's better.

At school right now. There's a student behind me talking to her boyfriend's kid via video chat.

Welcome to the future.

Okay, seriously?

My music professor lost my homework, and now I have to resubmit it.

You know, when your Music Appreciation professor is making you start to hate music, there is something seriously wrong here.

Movie Handbook #1: Water

Just in case you ever find yourself as the character in a movie or something, here are some simple rules that you should follow.

Rule number one: Water.

When you have been walking around in the desert for three days, or held prisoner for a week, and you are given a bottle of water, it is proper to let half the water dribble down your face. This is especially true if it is the bottom of the bottle, and the last of your rations. Make sure that you don't have the cup/bottle entirely around your mouth. Now take a big swig. If you're doing this properly, half of your water should spill down your face and onto your shirt. This is good. If you didn't do it properly and most of the water actually made it into your mouth, never fear. Just leave your jaw slack as you take the cup/bottle away from your mouth, and the water that made it into your mouth will run down your chin and onto your shirt (where it belongs).

So, just remember, make sure there is little contact between the cup/bottle and your mouth, and take a big swig. The rest should come naturally!

Good luck in your movie survival.

Speaking of locals...

So, I'm in my hotel room, and I hear all this yelling and whooping and hollering going on RIGHT outside my window! I look--

It's the Lutheran men's group. They're all standing outside on the patio. And they're-- Well, I dunno what they're doing. One guy is standing. Another guy is blindfolded, sitting on the first guy's shoulders, and he's flailing about with a foam mallet, trying to thwack the other guys.

And as quickly as they showed up, they're gone again.

Seriously, I love it here.

Local Legends

Okay, you know how you go see a movie, some horror B-movie. And there's this small town that someone is visiting for some unknown reason. Well, EVERY time they go to this small town, there's like, some local legend floating around about the monster that lives in the woods, yeah? But that never happens in real life! First, these small towns don't really have these types of legends; they're only plot devices.

Author interruption: I just used a semicolon!!!

Second, even if there are local legends, the locals don't actually believe them, and won't repeat them to outsiders. It's sorta just a fun thing to share around town. I.E. "Hey! You hear about someone kicking over Old Man Johnson's mailbox last night?" "Yeah... I bet it was the swamp beast. Heh."

Right?

Heh. Not so much.

So, here I am on vacation for the weekend in Northern Michigan. And I was looking for a good country music station to listen to. Found one. Listened to a bit of Trace Adkins, some Craig Morgan. Then someone called in with a request for the station to play "the Dog-man song".

Dog man? Dog-man? Dogman?

So there's this song playing, telling this whole legend of this Dogman. And I'm thinking, "Nice. There really is a country song for everything :)"

Totally not a country song. It's a local song that talks about their actual legend of the dogman. Complete with sightings.

Really.

So, if I start looking into this legend and wander out at night so see if I can find it... just... remind me not to. That's the person that always ends up eaten.

Another research paper

Don't mind me. I'm writing more papers.

A bit of advice?

If you're a juvenile, never commit a crime in California.

That is all.

Things I Learned in College: A list.

It's like Skippy's List, only less entertaining. Because NOTHING is more entertaining than Skippy's List. Except maybe this. But anyway. Here are the 101 things I learned in college so far. And I'll have you know, I intended to make this thing about seventeen items long. But it actually did turn out to be 101.

101 Things I Learned in College

1. The process of elimination works very well on multiple choice mid-terms.
2. Making an educated guess also works out pretty well.
3. Randomly picking C for the sole reason that it hasn't been used in a while does not work out so well.
4. I learned how to B.S. my way through essay questions, and still do well.
5. Making friends with the professor is the best way to get good grades. Seriously.
6. When you're friends with the professor and are turning a paper in late, he assumes it is because you are a hard working student with many things on your plate.
7. When you are not friends with the professor, he assumes it is because you are a lazy ass who is only going to college to meet girls/guys.
8. General education classes suck.
9. General education class professors suck, too.
10. General education classes are taught like they are the single most important thing to ever affect humanity, and if you don't learn it, you will never get anywhere in life, and you will be homeless for the rest of your life.
11. Even if the stuff you are learning is about the polyphonic qualities of late medieval Gregorian chants.
12. Late medieval Gregorian chants sound really really freaky.
13. Late medieval Gregorian chants work incredibly well for scaring away door to door salesmen.
14. Ring around the rosie is a very, very demented song.
15. Medieval painters painted porn.
16. Math makes even less sense in college than it did in high school.
17. No, I will not tell you more about the medieval porn paintings.
18. Coffee is life.
19. Always make sure that the coffee machine has cups before pressing the button.
20. Watching your coffee go down the drain because the cup failed to pop out is very sad business.
21. The ladies at the welcome desk are totally used to handing out refunds to all the other people who sadly watched their coffee flow away.
22. The coffee that comes from the machine tastes WAY better than the bottom-of-the-pot Starbucks coffee that has been sitting in the cafe all day.
23. NEVER get hot chocolate from the coffee machine.
24. Even if it is all you can afford.
25. It isn't hot chocolate. Trust me.
26. Your stuck up music professor actually does listen to more than late medieval Gregorian chant.
27. In fact, she listens to French rap.
28. And bluegrass.
29. And the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack.
30. And she is more addicted to YouTube than I am.
31. Grammar totally counts.
32. Never say 'totally' in a paper.
33. Your classmates have the collective spelling ability of the "OMG EDWARD CULLEN IS SO HOTT!!!1111!!!!1" forums on a Twilight fan page.
34. And yes, your classmates have posted on that forum.
35. Never express a liberal opinion in a conservative classroom.
36. Never express a conservative opinion in a liberal classroom.
37. In fact, just leave the politics at home.
38. When singled out to answer a political question, B.S. your way through it as much as possible, and rephrase the professor's question, adding "What do you guys think?"
39. It is incredibly easy to halt the lecture by bringing up gay marriage.
40. While your classmates scream at each other about gay marriage, you have enough time for a nap.
41. If you keep answering "Teddy Roosevelt" long enough, eventually, it is bound to be right.
42. Almost no one in college has seen any of the Indiana Jones movies.
43. No one knows what a Tribble is.
44. Old Bill Murray movie references are completely wasted on the college crowd.
45. Everyone knows that the Elves came to the rescue at Helm's Deep, but no one has any clue who Tom Bombadil is.
46. In fact, what in the heck do they teach you in those high schools?
47. No one in class has heard of International Talk Like a Pirate Day.
48. Despite what the professors tell you, there IS such a thing as a stupid question.
49. "Why do men have nipples?" is one of them.
50. In case you're wondering, that's not a good thing to ask in class.
51. Maybe it's okay if it's anatomy class.
52. Or art class.
53. Or even Multicultural Diversity.
54. History class? Totally not the right venue for that question.
55. I am the only one in that entire school that believes Oswald acted alone.
56. Nuns are frigging scary.
57. Nuns drink a LOT.
58. "A lot" is two words.
59. Nuns ride around the grounds on ATVs.
60. Nuns will chase students out of the chapel.
61. Even if you were taking artsy pictures for art class.
62. Nuns can smell Catholic.
63. You don't smell Catholic.
64. It is never acceptable to call St. Francis "Frankie".
65. Also not a good idea to screw up the word "Sacrament" and accidentally say "Sacrilege".
66. Even if you're not Catholic.
67. Ignorance is no excuse.
68. It is entirely not necessary to read the textbooks.
69. When the professor says seven to ten pages, five and a half will work just fine.
70. The deer that are wandering the grounds are very aggressive.
71. Never step off the path to take a picture of a deer.
72. A deer lowering his head, exposing his antlers, and stomping his foot is a pretty terrific sign that you should leave the area.
73. Nuns will take rocks from a nearby stream and build a monument to Mary at the top of a hill.
74. They will then take garbage lids and sled down that same hill.
75. While in full habits.
76. I kid you not.
77. It is entirely possible to procrastinate on a seven page research paper, only begin research two days before class, and write the actual paper the night before class at 2:00 in the morning, and still get a good grade.
78. Content isn't worth any points. If the professor can read the paper, it's an instant A.
79. Seriously, spelling counts.
80. Grammar counts more.
81. At least learn the difference between "Your" and "You're".
82. Even though those two words sound the same, they are not.
83. Arguing with the professor about how "deity" is actually pronounced "DAY-IH-TEE" not "DEE-IH-TEE" is futile.
84. Even if you know the Latin root of the word and can trace the etymology of it.
85. Webster says it is "dee-ih-tee", and that is final.
86. The Discovery Channel counts as a credible source.
87. Mythbusters does not.
88. Time Warp does.
89. CSI is a joke.
90. Police officers do NOT have a quota of traffic tickets that they have to give out.
91. They really don't.
92. So stop using it as an excuse.
93. Saying that your major is criminal justice really makes people take you seriously.
94. Up until they ask if you want to "do that CSI stuff".
95. Non-criminal justice majors just don't understand how stupid CSI is.
96. Never mention CSI in any criminal justice class.
97. Unless you want to stop the lecture and take a nap.
98. I've learned way more things in college than I thought I had.
99. Textbooks are a conspiracy to get you to pay obscene amounts of money for something you won't actually read.
100. And they make new editions every year so you can't sell them back.
101. Really. There is NO QUOTA of traffic tickets that police officers have to fill.

But moooooom....

I don't wanna write about the juvenile delinquency system. I wanna write about werewolves!!

Creativity for sale?

Okay, so. I just got off the phone with my aunt, who is a freelance author. She writes childrens stories. A few have been published in magazines, and there was talk about getting a childrens novella published. Well, anyway, she's been writing this short story. You know... one of those picture book types where the sentence structure is like "See spot run. Run, Spot, run." Very simple. Except she can't think of a title. So what does she do? Calls to bounce ideas off of me.

No problem. I'm always willing to help.

Just last night I was helping Tari come up with more fanfiction ideas, complete with a crash course in Abnormal Psychology. I was helping her come up with her characters personality, the basic plot, along with the technical terminology she'd need.

Again, no problem at all.

But here I am thinking.... why in the heck am I supplying ideas to other people, and not using them on my own?

I may have worded that in a funky way. Not like I'm NOT going to supply title ideas or iron out fanfiction plots for people. But seriously? I'm sitting here at the computer trying to work on a paper about the medieval histories of the hurdy gurdy and hammered dulcimer while people like my aunt and Tari are happily working on their own creative projects that I'm helping along. Aw, come on, I want some creative energy for me, too!! :(

Again, still not explaining myself very well. It sounds like I'm saying "Stupid aunt... stupid Tari... taking MY ideas while I'm sitting here WORKING...." That's not it. It's more like "Hey... why am I not using my creative genius on my own stuff?" Like I feel like I'm letting my writing sit and rust while my ideas go cheat on me. Like...

Oh. Like the talents. In Matthew. Heh. Like singing. Letting it just sit and rust when--

Well, I think I just had an epiphany. XD

FAIL.

Well that was just an epic FAIL.

Well, a fail. Not an epic one.

Crap. The paper I had to write for today's class was the one that had to be four or five pages. TOMORROWS class is THREE or FOUR. And my professor gets very picky about his papers being four SOLID pages, and not three pages and a paragraph, like mine is. But the class starts in an hour, and it's too late to fix now, because I have to work on the paper that is due tomorrow that I haven't even LOOKED at yet, and I can't ask for an extension because he doesn't give any, and besides, I have a mid-term on Thursday in a class where I haven't even opened the book yet, because I was too bloody busy writing the paper that is due today!!

GAH!!

*shuts eyes* Just repeat the mantra, Rio. Repeat it.

I'll never work retail again. I'll never work retail again. I'll never work retail again...

Overstepped the line

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Science fiction doesn't stay fiction for long.

http://zombietime.com/john_holdren/

Pardon my French, but you can't make this shit up.

Todays news...

Thank you, Rick, for that weather forecast.

Now on to the evening news.

Earlier this afternoon, a pair of tall boots collided with an innocent pair of pumps on the runway. The two collided so hard, that they fused together. Police were nearby, and a shootout ensued. The culprit was shot with the police forces newest weapons. We heard this account from a bystander who saw the whole thing.

Happy birthday, Harry

You know that scene in Harry Potter? It's in the first movie. It's Harry's birthday, only his idiot family isn't going to acknowledge it at all. They've moved him to that stupid ol shack, and he is sitting on the floor. In the dust, he draws a birthday cake that says "Happy birthday, Harry", complete with candles. Then he blows on the dust, and it all scatters.

Well, happy birthday, Rio.

Each year I get reminded that I've only got one friend in the world (well, in real life, anyway. If I could invite all my internet friends, I'd have a bunch of crazy people to hang around with :)). I sorta have a birthday tradition of going to a baseball game. My mom and dad and I go, plus my best friend. Then sometimes my grandma comes, but she can't make it this year, so my sister is coming instead. Sounds fun, sure. Last minute, my best friend calls to say that she has to work tomorrow and can't come. Sad. Well, we can work around this, yeah? She works until 6:00, and that's when the game starts. So she could totally come a little late, no problem. Nah, she doesn't want to do that. I asked if she wanted to come by before work for just cake. Nope. Can't do that either. Know why? She's on a diet.

I just got pwned by a diet. Lovely.

Now, I mean, I get it. She has all sorts of bills and things to pay, and she needs any extra money she can get. I'm not mad at her at all. I'm not even mad about getting dumped for a diet. It's just kinda sad that this birthday is already going belly up. I mean, I'm going to be 20. Adding on another decade. Shouldn't this be one of those big party birthdays?

Also, tomorrow is Sunday. That means church. Not like church is going to ruin my birthday, but my grandmother is. Now, this isn't the one that sometimes comes to baseball games. This is the other one. The one that we don't invite to reunions and things. Now, I could do my best to describe her personality, but I would fail. You don't know her until you've spent an hour in the car with her. In a nutshell, she is the most selfish person you will ever meet, and she acts like a four year old. EXACTLY like. There are no private conversations around her. If I am talking to my dad, looking straight at him, talking in a lower voice so that I'm not projecting to the whole dinner table, Grandma is STILL listening in on the conversation, assumes that I'm talking to her, and puts in her two cents. Now, her two cents are NEVER "Oh, really? That's an interesting story. Let me ask a few questions about it so you can continue telling this hilarious story!" She responds with, "Oh that reminds me of the time that I ..... me.... we.... I.... I.... me.... I....". CONVERSATION HIJACKING. That's it. That's what she does.

ANYWAY. So, I get all Sunday morning with her. AND she is coming to the house for dinner. AND she's probably going to sing to me. She's got the worst singing voice ever, but she thinks she has the best, and can't fathom why anyone would want her to shut up, because of course we all LIVE to hear what is going to come out of her mouth next.

Yeah. Anyway. So far, not going so great. Heh. I kinda wish this was my 21st, because I'm going to need a few shots of Jack to get me through this one, eh?

Ack. School starts on Monday, as well. Fun.

Okay, well, let's just remember that next year is going to be the good birthday. Dad is taking me to Nashville. Since I'll be turning 21, I could get into Tootsies, which is a pretty good place to have a first drink. Lots of loud country music, and line dancing... great fun. Maybe that one will make up for this one.

The Idiot's Guide to Cooking: Written by an idiot

So, there's like NOTHING to eat in this house. Well, there is, but it's all in pieces. We have corn starch and olive oil and baking sugar and all natural chicken stock, but nothing like... a can of ravioli or a frozen pizza. So, there's enough ingredients to make a delicious meal of steak and spices and what not, but someone with MY cooking skills doesn't have the slightest idea of what to do with them.

OH LOOK! BISQUICK! I've got milk and eggs! Pancakes!

Yeah. No. Have I ever told you about the time that I burned a lunchable pizza in the microwave? What's worse, is that I did it twice.

So here's me attempting to make pancakes. Heh.

Step One: Grease the pan. Easy. However, tip for the beginner, when spraying the non stick cooking spray, make sure the nozzle is pointed at the PAN, and not your NOSE. Well, at least stuff won't stick to my glasses for a while. Now, when you actually figure out which way the nozzle is pointing, you also have to get the distance right. See, too close, and the spray just plops down on one spot in a really thick, quarter-sized spot. Too far away, and you won't have to worry about things sticking to your kitchen curtains. This process seems to be trial and error.

Step Two: Add ingredients. Stir. Don't stir too fast. Things tend to flop out of the bowl.

Step Three: Place pan on heat. Pour in 1/4 cup of mix. Let cook until edges are dry. Flip. Cook until golden. Uh... yeah. Sure. Except that the heat is unspecified. Too hot, and you wind up with... well, ash. At least the fire alarm didn't go off. Not hot enough, and it doesn't cook well enough, and you go to flip it, and it breaks in half, and splatters into little pancakelets that then promptly turn into, well, ash. Also, the heat thing is sorta trial and error as well. Heat on high to get the pan warmed up. Heat on low to cool the pan down after the charbroiled pancake. Heat on medium because of the pancake that fell apart and splattered. Run out of pancake mix without having ever figured out what the heat setting should be.

Step Four: Clean up. At this point, there will be little splatters of charred pancakelets scattered around the floor, alongside splatters of batter that flew off the measuring cup when you were smacking the measuring cup trying to get all the batter out. Congratulations. The batter is out. If there are any people in the house besides yourself, or even a very talkative parrot, you should probably resist the urge to chant "Hey, batter batter batter...."

All in all, I'm pretty darned sure that, while cooking, I look like Lucille Ball or Amanda Bynes. Maybe I should start off by making ice.

Evil incarnate.

Swans are evil.

A pair of flannel leather gloves??

Long live Kal Skirata, and death to that stupid Clone Wars cartoon.

http://karentraviss.typepad.com/blog/2009/08/end-of-one-era-start-of-another.html

Bring me my Verp.

Disclaimer

As a warning to my grand total of TWO readers, there will be cursing in this blog post, 'cause I'm angry. I'll try to keep it down, but I make no promises.

So, I've just discovered that my school has a blog feature. Not just for individual people (i.e. this blog is mine and no one elses), but... sort of a mass blog feature. So, some guy named John posts a blog about how he would like to start up an organization for students that would like it to be legal to carry concealed firearms on campus. Now, of course, this is only for people that have a permit for that, so it's not like anyone and everyone can start carrying around guns. He asks for opinions.

NEVER a smart idea. I gotta tell you, college students are idiots. Maturity levels are zero.

Some guy that calls himself DK responds. Does he say "I don't think weapons should be allowed on campus"? Of course not. He says (and I quote) "Funny how your respect for life doesn't seem to extend beyond fetuses."

Well, who brought THAT into the conversation? DK proceeds to hijack the blog. I HATE people that do that. See, blogs are the personal soapbox of the person who writes them. When you comment on a blog, you are speaking to the person that wrote it, not to all the people that read it. But when people hijack a blog, they camp out and watch all the comments, replying to every one of them as if it was their own blog. DK was doing this.

He continues on by saying that he doesn't think that guns should be banned, and neither does President Obama.

Nice. I like the subtle use of liberal politics, and the use of the title. Makes it sound like we're supposed to care. Not just Obama, but PRESIDENT Obama.

DK then copies an article in its entirety and posts it in the comments. Pardon me, I say article. This wasn't an article, but an opinion piece. Hardly qualifies as an unbiased source.

John takes every one of DK's so called "points" and calmly responds to each of them with logic, without losing his temper.

DK responds again, saying that John is stupid, because he says he is pro-life, but he owns a fur coat and supports capital punishment. (Remind me some day to bring out my argument for that.)

Really, what is is about the internet that makes people assholes? These are people that would never say this stuff to anyone's face, but they feel that they can type it out because no one will know who they are. This is the same reason why Venice had to ban wearing masks in public. It gave people too much anonymity, and they were acting like idiots. I don't see why internet arguments NEVER stay on topic. I mean, the blog started out as gun control, and DK swoops in and turns it into a personal-insult-fest, using EVERY one of John's political views as ammunition. I mean, I would hope that I'm mature enough to listen to someone's opinion, disagree with it, give reasons as to why I disagree, and admit when I do agree with them. But people are so defined by Left or Right wing, that they figure you have to have the complete and total opposite opinion. Why can't we all be in the freaking center aisle??

Hey look. I only cursed once. Yay me!

You're kidding.

Just saw it in the newspaper. There's human trafficking going on, trying to coerce children and adults into sex trade and forced labor.

In my city.

Well, isn't THAT just wizard? You hear about this stuff going on in the movies, but never in real life. Never in this country! It's always elsewhere. I don't know where elsewhere is, but it ain't here.

Oh, and this has been going on for years.

That's about as far as my reaction goes for the moment. I need to go hunting down some more articles about this.

Ew. Soapy.

I fail to see the appeal of soap operas.

Undelete?

Blogger has a feature to 'Undelete' a blog? That's awesome...

Pardon me for going all Tao of Rio on you here for a moment... but do you think this possibly has something to do with today's generation? I know, I know. I sound like an old fart. But bear with me for a tick.

1950. You're sitting in your classroom doing your English essay. Supplies: Notebook, pencil, eraser, brain. You write out a few sentences, then go back and read over them. Crap! You accidentally wrote "you're" instead of "your"! Okay, okay, we can fix this. You erase the "you're" and write in the "your". Now you've fixed it, but you can still tell that a mistake was made. There's little faint pencil marks on your paper that your teacher will still be able to read. Shoot. Well, you did fix it, so your grade won't be lowered. Just remember to watch your grammar next time.

2009. You're sitting in your classroom doing your English essay. Supplies: Laptop, internet, wikipedia. Brain optional. You type out a few sentences, grammar be damned. Word underlines your sentence in green. You right click, and it tells you that your sentence is a fragment. Well how are you supposed to fix that? You read over it again, fail to see the problem, then read over it again. Aha! There's the problem. You backspace a few steps, then fill in a few extra words. There. The Microsoft gods are satisfied. Save. Print. There you are! A perfect essay.

Now, the difference between the two is that with people today, mistakes are so easy to fix. Backspace, delete, and undo are your best friends. You can even undelete, apparently. Does that somehow psychologically seep into life?

I can sit in art class, make a mistake, and reach for CTRL+Z. I really do. And when I can't find my other shoe, I think I can start the search function. And this only lasts for a milisecond before I catch myself and laugh, but the point still stands.

Do we willingly make mistakes today because we think they are so easy to fix? Like we can just clear our history, empty the recycle bin and be done with it?

Idiots...

So, my scene in the One Act plays we did in the Spring semester went very well. Keith, our drama club director, was asked if he would pick two or three scenes to do for the visiting library group on August 6th. Well, that's all lovely and such, but it means I have to work with Kim again.

Back in spring, Kim was directing the scene. She said that we were going to have rehearsal on Thursday night. I told her that I couldn't be there because I had class. She promptly said "I don't care, you have to skip it." Okay, now I understand that college is different from high school, and you can miss a few classes and not have anything to worry about. But this class was an accelerated one. That means that the classes are four hours long, and they go for seven weeks instead of fifteen. So, that's seven classes, minus one for the final, minus another for the midterm. Are you getting what I am saying? That is FIVE CLASSES to learn how the ENTIRE Community Corrections programs work. And if I missed even one of those? I've missed twenty percent of the class. *sigh* But no. According to Kim, drama club is the most important thing that I can do, and I had to miss the class. It was only by the grace of God that our guest speaker didn't show that day and class was dismissed early. Lucky for Kim, actually, because I had no intention of skipping the class.

I also had to work the day of tech rehearsal. I checked with literally EVERY person in my department and NONE of them could take the hours for me. But Kim wouldn't have it. She said that I absolutely had to have the day off. I told her that it was literally impossible. She still didn't care. I didn't get the day off. Tough lemons, eh, Kim?

ANYWAY.

Now that I've established Kim's background, this brings me to my main rant.

We've got this library thing going on, which means we need to rehearse the scene a few more times before we're ready to do it for the library group. Keith sent me an e-mail in about Mid-June. Now, I don't check my student e-mail during the summer. After about a week, Keith realised that he hadn't heard from me, so he called me. Smart man. So I said sure, I'd love to do the scene again.

Keith said I would be rehearsing with Kim, and that she would be in charge of the rehearsal schedule (Oh, yeah. 'cause that worked SO well last time). He also said that she would call me to set up a time.

Kim e-mailed me at the beginning of July. Remember, I don't check my student e-mail. After a week, she e-mailed me again. Another week, another e-mail. Now, she has my phone number IN HER PHONE, and also in the drama club directory. Did she use it? Oh no. That would have been too logical. She sends me a third e-mail. Then a fourth!

The fourth one says "Rehearsal is July 25th at 1:00. I haven't heard from you, so I assume you'll be there."

'I haven't heard from you, so I assume you'll be there'??? SERIOUSLY??

So, today, I'm thinking "Dude. Kim hasn't called me about rehearsal yet. ... dude, did she e-mail me?"

So I check my e-mail at 7:30.

Only to find out that rehearsal was at 1:00.

I mean REALLY? I picked up my phone, and were there any missed calls? No, of course not!! Why would she try to call me? She hadn't heard from me, so obviously I would be there!!

So next rehearsal is on Thursday. I'll be there for that one, but if she's a bitch to me again like she was during the spring show, then I'm not doing the scene.

I've got half a mind to back out right now.

And I don't think I'm gonna do the play in Fall. Kim causes more problems than she's worth.

Oh, seriously?

You have got to be kidding me. I mean, really. Seriously, dude?

I JUST figured this out. After two semesters of school, and who knows how many papers...

Microsoft Word will generate a Works Cited page for you! It asks all the info, and it fills in what needs to go where! That sucks beyond imagination! And you can even pick your format! It knows APA, MLA, Chicago, among other things! Seriously, dude? Why the hell did I do all of that work??

OMG! We had that quiz on citation pages! I could have just used frigging Word!

GAH!

Well. I know for next year, eh?

InNoWriSu?

Okay, so I've decided (once again) to actually finish my dragon novel. And I need some sort of drop kick to get my butt in gear.

NaNoWriMo sounds like just the drop kick I need, but there's one problem.

It's in November.

This in turn creates two sub-problems:

November is not now, and by the time it comes around again, my motivation will be gone.

Also, November is smack in the middle of finals at school. I don't want to be sitting at my keyboard writing about dragons when I should be working on my degree.

So, for me, I'm doing InNoWriSu. Individual Novel Writing Summer. It's not national, of course, 'cause it's only me. And it's not a month, it's the summer. Makes sense, yeah? Yeah.

Foiled AGAIN

Why is it that I can't come up with any idea that Karen Traviss hasn't already beat me to? I swear, I was writing a sci-fi story with a character named Aras... WELL before I ever picked up a Wess'har Wars book.

I was so proud of my little idea about authors vs. nutters! Well, KT beat me to it again...

In the list of ten reasons why writing is a great job...

"3. Your eccentric behaviour is regarded as a sign of creative literary genius: anyone else is just as mad as a box of frogs."

Damn you, KT....

Ironic...

I'm on Facebook reading flair about procrastinating on writing a novel while I'm procrasinating on writing my novel.

However, in my defense, I have been procrastinating on this novel for the past seven years. But my writing skills have just now got up to the task. Like George Lucas waiting sixteen years to make the Star Wars prequels.

...

Oh, dear Mand'alor, I can't believe I just said that.

I have to go get the meat tenderizer now. My brain needs delicate surgery.

Authors vs Nutters

Here's one.

If you hear voices in your head, and they all have their own personalities, and they talk to you, and they talk to each other, and they have a mind of their own... you're stark raving bonkers.

However, if you hear voices in your head, and they all have their own personalities, and they talk to you, and they talk to each other, and they have a mind of their own, and you write it down... you are a literary genius.

I'm just saying.

NOWHERE

Okay, I have found TWO sites that have instructions/tips on how to make vambraces. Only TWO. On the whole of the internet, you're telling me that only TWO people care enough to make vambraces? Deviantart, however, has TONS of pictures of ones that have already been made, yet I don't know where people learned how to make these!

Now, if I wanted to know how to French kiss, I'd find more websites than I could shake a stick at.

Does that tell you something about our society? I bet you medieval knights would trade any of their women for a good piece of armour...

Self quotation

I said this one to Ara while we were chatting, and there's nowhere I can quote it. Everywhere else I go is crowded with liberals. But this is MY blog, and I can post what I want to.

Obama: Thanks for the tour, George. Now, really, can you get out of my office?
Dubya: Just hang on... I can't remember where I hid my shotgun...
O: *inspecting the decorating* Hey, George? What's this?
W: Eh? That's our Winston Churchill statue. The prime minister of Great Britain gave him to us after September 11th.
O: ... that's nice. Is there a return address?
W: You're going to send him back?
O: Can't have him in my office. He smoked cigars constantly. Smoking is bad.
W: .....
O: Weed is healthful. Everyone does it.
W:... *shrug* *checks under the Resolute desk* Oh HERE it is. I had it taped under here in case of attack. *untapes shotgun* Well. I'm all packed, then. Guess I'll be seeing you.
O: *tosses Winston into a box* Yep. Will you take him to the post office on your way out? Thanks.

To Whom It May Concern...

Dear England,

Thank you for the tea and Dancing With The Stars. We are still deciding whether American Idol looks good with the drapes or not, but we are sure that we will find a place for it. As a thank you gift, you may have President Obama, however we would like the return of our Winston Churchill bust. We have also decided that we are going to keep Tim Roth and Hugh Laurie. Hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,
Fox Network

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah.

My oh my, what a wonderful day. [/sarcasm]

So, there's this guy. This totally perfect guy. I mean he is everything I could ever want in a guy, except for one thing -- he isn't interested in me at all. He's known that I like him for a while. Probably a year now. But I'm just not the right girl for him, apparently. He said he'd be willing to be friends, though (which is all a bunch of bull, girls. Don't believe guys that say that stuff).

And the fun part. In March, me, him, and the whole Bible study group went to Florida for spring break. While we were all down there, he started really hitting it off with this girl-- we'll call her Carrie. But see, Carrie already had a boyfriend. But somewhere during that week, she decided that she liked John (that's what we're calling the guy) better. So Carrie dumped her boyfriend so she could have John. She said, however, that she wasn't going to date him right away, because she claims that she dumped her old boyfriend for "spiritual" reasons, which again is a load of crap. So they waited one month. And as of Saturday night, they are officially dating.

Now, the part that makes me feel like a real idiot is that all of this was happening right under my nose. The whole week in Florida, Carrie was all over him. I mean literally. Sitting on him, always having her hands on him, going out of her way to always be near him. They spent every waking moment together-- and then some! On the bus ride back home, they slept all snuggly together-- in plain view, no less. I mean, everyone could see them. And I am the only one that thinks that was HIGHLY inappropriate. Everyone else thinks they're so cute together.

Bitch is blaming God as her reason for breaking up with her old boyfriend! But it was because she found someone more interesting! Why the hell does John think she's not going to do the same thing to him? If some other guy comes along, what's to stop her from breaking John's heart so she can hop on over to the next guy?

And this isn't just me being paranoid. She actually said to me that she left her old boyfriend because she likes John better. In her defense, she doesn't have a clue that I like him, and she thought I'd be rather supportive. Newsflash, bitch.

I feel really stupid right now.

OKAY! Once again, I don't see why I bother with guys. They're all the same. Never again.

Keep talking.

Maybe if I keep talking, nothing bad will happen, eh? Seems to be my philosophy in life. A little bit Donna Noble, me. "Shouting at the world because no one is listening". Sometimes it seems like the more I talk, the less people hear, you know?

Sometimes the gift of the gab can come in handy, though. I've got this friend who had a tussle with depression a few years ago. Took a whole bottle of pills, but her parents got her to the doctor in time, but she had to stay at the hospital for a few months and what not. Big ordeal. Anyway. They got her out of there and on anti-depressants. She's been fine ever since then (I think. If there have been mini-episodes, they weren't bad enough for me to hear about them.)

But see, there's this guy she really likes. REALLY likes. Like she has said that he's the one she could see herself marrying. They were dating for a while, but his parents didn't approve, so they broke up. About a year later, she still likes him just as much, and she wanted to know if he still likes her. So she asked. He said that he didn't like her in a dating sense, but as a friend. Well, she's crushed. And she's been really bummed since then. She says that it's no big deal, that yeah, she's sad, but she'll get over it. And she's trying to play the brave card again. But today when I saw her, she was really messed up. Just didn't want to talk to anyone, and that is certainly a red flag. She's usually a social butterfly. She updated her Facebook status saying something along the lines of no one understanding her or anything.

Now, as I was reading this, I figure she's just tired and overworked and needs to sleep. I figured I would just leave her be and she'd have everything sorted after she gets some rest. But then I remember the salad. I remember bugging her about that damn salad when she was at my house last time I saw her before the suicidal episode. And I knew something was bothering her, but I didn't ask. I figured if she wanted to talk about it, she would. It was during the next week that I got the phone call about her taking the pills.

So I thought better of leaving her alone, this time. I sent her a text and asked if everything was okay. She said that life really sucks right now, thanks for asking. Well, I didn't like the way that was worded. So I asked what she needed, and she said a vacation away from any guys. So I made up this ridiculous story about us going volcano studying, and that no guys would follow us there. I'm pretty sure she's gone to sleep by now, but it didn't take long for her to sound like she was in a better mood.

Maybe if I keep talking, nothing bad will happen.

Because people ARE that stupid.

Seriously. I'll be in English--

I'm going to cut myself off right there. Yes, I do have more going on in my life than just English class. But when I'm working on papers for English, I'm at my computer, and I'm typing, and I get ideas that can't fit into the paper, but I still want to write about them, and the only reasonable place to do that is this blog. That's why all I write about recently are my papers. Carry on, then.

--class, and the professor gives three examples of some paragraph. She gives a quote from a made-up source, and then writes three (fake) "student" paragraphs. We get to pick out which ones are good and which ones are not. Meaning, we look to see if everything is cited and quoted properly, and make sure none of the phrases are taken without quoting (as in plagiarism). And they're always REALLY over the top examples. It's like.... seriously, nobody can be that stupid.

So, I have a paper to write for CJST (criminal justice. I don't feel like typing that out every time, so I abbreviated it. Memorize it.). I'm writing about forensic anthropology. Now, that is the subject of the Fox show, Bones. So, there should be lots of interest in the topic, right? No. There is like NOTHING on the internet about forensic anthropology outside of Wikipedia, and we all know that you can't use THAT monstrosity in a paper. So I've got like two PBS articles and one from the Court TV library (which is actually a REALLY awesome resource).

I try running a search on forensic anthropology, and it brings up a student paper. Now, I figure that I'll check out this paper to see what sources she used, and maybe that will point me in the right direction. But while I'm looking at this paper, I might as well read the content, yeah?

OMG.

EVERY. SINGLE. WORD. Is copied and pasted directly from the PBS and Court TV articles. Really. No quotations, not even properly paraphrased. I mean WORD. FOR. WORD. It's like.... seriously? SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE? There is one paragraph that is just.... you know what, I'm just going to show you.

This is the paragraph from the PBS article:

The field of forensic anthropology is relatively new. Although there were famous grisly murders of the 19th century solved through examination of bones and body fragments, it wasn't until the 1930s that the relationship between anthropology and the police was formally acknowledged. The gangland murders of the 1930s forced the FBI to turn to physical anthropologists.

And now the paragraph from the student paper. And I'm not going to give you the link for this one because it has the student's name on it and stuff. So sue me for plagiarism.

The field of forensic anthropology is relatively new.During the 19th century, a few famous gruesome murders were solved through the examination of bones and body fragements, but it was not until the 1930s that the relationship was formerely acknowledged between anthropology and the police force (PBS). Anthropology proved to be an asset to the FBI in the gangland murders in the 1930s.

I mean.... really. Nice try, but no. Actually.... that wasn't even a nice try. That was just....

I mean, seriously, I just wish I knew what grade the student got on this. I'd have flunked her ass right out of that school.

HA!

I TOLD you that Tony couldn't be a bad guy. I just KNEW it.

My two cents...

I think that Tony is still working for CTU (that is supposedly disbanded...), and is not actually a terrorist. See, he didn't take whats-his-name's kid when they raided the car, even though that would have been a BRILLIANT bargaining chip (fix this circuitboard, or we'll hurt your daughter!). And with redirecting the planes at the last second. That would have been a great demonstration, eh? Isn't the point of a terrorist to spread terror? So, yeah. I think he's working undercover. WAY undercover.

Also, I think the FBI leak is either Whats-her-name that has been tagging along with Jack, or that other chick in the purple shirt and glasses. She sorta reminds me of Chloe. I like her lots, but I also liked Nina in season 1.

So that's where we're at so far.