Gone already, apparently. Dang, this month went by fast. Does this mean the rest of my second-to-last year in the circle of Hades known as school will drag on forever?
Probably.
But, on the plus side, I totally didn't have to go to the crappy pep rally on the last day of school before winter break, and that was because my brother and I both, um, got a really contagious disease at the exact same time, and we didn't want to be responsible for some futuristic plague breaking out at our school (it's not that we don't want it to happen, but we don't want to be the ones responsible for it happening.). That's our story and we're sticking to it, and if you say you saw us at our local mall gawping at the freaking huge Christmas tree they have there that very day, then you're a liar and need to be checked for delusions.
I hope that you all had a safe and happy holiday like the one that I had. Pizza, Chik-Fil-A chicken, seeing relatives, deciding to write a new version of Beauty and the Beast...it was a very productive holiday, considering I rarely do anything the rest of the year.
Except blog, of course. And read other blogs.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Spirit For Something
This week is Spirit Week again in my school. When will they give up and realize nobody has any?
I just wanted to put that out there. I will not be blogging about the pep rally because I don't want to waste anybody's time with it. I must be psychic, because I already know how it's going to turn out: crappy. Very, very crappy. No worry, though--I shall survive it to blog another day because I'm bringing a book to read or a novel to write (one of these days, I will get one done and published. You just wait and see.). They won't steal my soul. They will never get it. They can do anything they want, but I shall never give them my spirit! That's saved for Christmas!
P.S.: Happy early brithday to Mark Valley (December 24th).
I just wanted to put that out there. I will not be blogging about the pep rally because I don't want to waste anybody's time with it. I must be psychic, because I already know how it's going to turn out: crappy. Very, very crappy. No worry, though--I shall survive it to blog another day because I'm bringing a book to read or a novel to write (one of these days, I will get one done and published. You just wait and see.). They won't steal my soul. They will never get it. They can do anything they want, but I shall never give them my spirit! That's saved for Christmas!
P.S.: Happy early brithday to Mark Valley (December 24th).
Happy Birthday, Jesus!
Lately I've noticed most people forget the real reason we have Christmas in the first place. Santa didn't start Christmas, you know. Jesus did, and God, and Mary, and if you don't like me saying that I don't want you reading my blog anyway.
It all started when Mary (who was, like, thirteen or fourteen, by the way, when it all Went Down) got a visit from Gabriel, and then Joseph had a dream where an angel told him to name the baby Jesus. Or, if you prefer, Joseph was walking across his lawn and he stepped on a rake he had left lying around and it came up and hit him in the face and he screamed "Jesus Christ!" 'cause, you know, it hurts when you get hit in the face with a rake, stepfather to the Son of God or not.
And then Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem to be counted and taxed, and while they were there it was like Wal-Mart on Black Friday or the beach on Memorial Day--no room anywhere, even for the Mother of God (and no, I'm not going into that). So they stayed in a barn. I'm surprised Mary didn't catch an infection and, like, die. Animals live in stables. They pee and stuff in there. Ew.
I just wanted to remind you of this stuff. Mary had Jesus in a stable and neither died of infection. Truly a miracle.
Happy birthday, Jesus! I won't ask how old you are. That's rude. I'll give you this cake instead.
It all started when Mary (who was, like, thirteen or fourteen, by the way, when it all Went Down) got a visit from Gabriel, and then Joseph had a dream where an angel told him to name the baby Jesus. Or, if you prefer, Joseph was walking across his lawn and he stepped on a rake he had left lying around and it came up and hit him in the face and he screamed "Jesus Christ!" 'cause, you know, it hurts when you get hit in the face with a rake, stepfather to the Son of God or not.
And then Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem to be counted and taxed, and while they were there it was like Wal-Mart on Black Friday or the beach on Memorial Day--no room anywhere, even for the Mother of God (and no, I'm not going into that). So they stayed in a barn. I'm surprised Mary didn't catch an infection and, like, die. Animals live in stables. They pee and stuff in there. Ew.
I just wanted to remind you of this stuff. Mary had Jesus in a stable and neither died of infection. Truly a miracle.
Happy birthday, Jesus! I won't ask how old you are. That's rude. I'll give you this cake instead.
Ho Ho Hilarious
Here's a spoof I thought might get you in the holiday mood--now or never, I figure.
Then, I saw my wife tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white.
Oh, what a laugh it would have been,
If my wife had only seen
Me watching her kissing Santa Claus last night!
"I SAW MY WIFE KISSING SANTA CLAUS"
BASED ON "I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS"
I saw my wife kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to take a leak
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to take a leak
She thought I was tucked
Up in our bedroom fast asleep
Up in our bedroom fast asleep
Then, I saw my wife tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white.
Oh, what a laugh it would have been,
If my wife had only seen
Me watching her kissing Santa Claus last night!
Christmas Time is Here
Ah, Christmas. The time of year where my mom makes cookies, my dad gets even more agitated than he already is by life, and my brother desecrates his Santa Claus hat by scrawling "Now I have a machine gun" above the "Ho Ho Ho!" pre-written on it. The time of year where they spew crap about world peace that nobody believes, people elbow each other in the face to get a doll their kids'll dump in two weeks anyway, and every show conceivable (and some not) come out with a Christmas (oh, I mean "holiday"--wait, no I don't) episode. It's the season where I beg my dad to let me go ice-skating (even though there's no place near our "apartment community" and I don't exactly know how) and bake gingerbread houses (even though we don't have the time). It's the season where I hear Twisted Sister sing "Silver Bells" and watch Christopher Chance and his merry sidekicks rampage through a mall. It's the season of giant trees, stars, carolers, and food.
I love this Christmas-y time of year.
There's just so many good things about Christmas. Snow falls, if you're lucky. Santa the jolly prowler and his reindeer. Beauty and the Beast--The Enchanted Christmas. Teachers give you a break because it's the last week before Christmas vacation. Radio stations replace their usual crap with Christmas crap. Ditto for TV.
There's also bad things about Christmas, of course. The Dollar Tree gets so crowded that you can't breathe. Traffic. Forced socialization with certain relatives you can't stand. Things like that.
But overall, it's a good season. My favorite, actually. And I know you're expecting me to wish it came more than once a year. But I'm not going to. I've seen the Fairly OddParents Christmas special way too many times. I know what happens when you do that. Plus, I think we all would get sick of it after that long. There's only so much love and joy you can take before you want to kill somebody, right?
I love this Christmas-y time of year.
There's just so many good things about Christmas. Snow falls, if you're lucky. Santa the jolly prowler and his reindeer. Beauty and the Beast--The Enchanted Christmas. Teachers give you a break because it's the last week before Christmas vacation. Radio stations replace their usual crap with Christmas crap. Ditto for TV.
There's also bad things about Christmas, of course. The Dollar Tree gets so crowded that you can't breathe. Traffic. Forced socialization with certain relatives you can't stand. Things like that.
But overall, it's a good season. My favorite, actually. And I know you're expecting me to wish it came more than once a year. But I'm not going to. I've seen the Fairly OddParents Christmas special way too many times. I know what happens when you do that. Plus, I think we all would get sick of it after that long. There's only so much love and joy you can take before you want to kill somebody, right?
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Just Check These Out
Here's a couple of links I feel that you guys should get a chance to look at.
This one goes to one of my close friend's Twitter account. Follow her, please! https://twitter.com/#!/BellejarRose
This one goes to her online writings. Check them out and support an author! http://www.teenink.com/users/MedievalMaiden
Don't want to force anything on you; just thought that you might like 'em. And if you don't? You don't have to go back on them, okay? Don't take that attitude with me. But just give them a try, seriously. Like a teacher at my school said today: "Try anything once. But don't ask what you're eating until after you're done."
Enjoy!
This one goes to one of my close friend's Twitter account. Follow her, please! https://twitter.com/#!/BellejarRose
This one goes to her online writings. Check them out and support an author! http://www.teenink.com/users/MedievalMaiden
Don't want to force anything on you; just thought that you might like 'em. And if you don't? You don't have to go back on them, okay? Don't take that attitude with me. But just give them a try, seriously. Like a teacher at my school said today: "Try anything once. But don't ask what you're eating until after you're done."
Enjoy!
Coincidence...Or is This How Psychos Start Out?
This will probably be a short post; I just wanted to inform you that I was thinking a while ago and realized that a whole bunch of characters that I identify with, both literary and otherwise, are either insane, outcasts, or end up deep-fried in lava somewhere (or meet other tragic endings).
These include: Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye); Elphaba (Wicked); Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars); Ponyboy (The Outsiders); among others.
I'm wondering if there's a problem here. I mean, I completely identify with all of these people. Now, I'm not as concerned about, say, Ponyboy as I am Holden freaking Caulfield--the guy's a lunatic. Papers have been written on him by psychologists. And I'm sitting there reading the book and thinking, Dang, how did J.D. Salinger get inside my freaking head? That's not good, people! It's not a positive sign for my future!
And Anakin Skywalker? The dude's Darth Vader! And yet, every time he says something, I hear myself--when he thinks in stories, I hear my thoughts! He talks like me, he feels like me...is it just that he represents all of us, or is it that I'm a nutcase?
Elphaba...a smart girl, a prickly girl, intensely aware of the world around her from the day she's born, immediately an outcast. Trying to do right, failing to do anything she sets out to. Misunderstood, a loner, intentionally isolated. God, this is getting deep and slightly depressive. But it doesn't matter. She's me.
And I'm insane.
These include: Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye); Elphaba (Wicked); Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars); Ponyboy (The Outsiders); among others.
I'm wondering if there's a problem here. I mean, I completely identify with all of these people. Now, I'm not as concerned about, say, Ponyboy as I am Holden freaking Caulfield--the guy's a lunatic. Papers have been written on him by psychologists. And I'm sitting there reading the book and thinking, Dang, how did J.D. Salinger get inside my freaking head? That's not good, people! It's not a positive sign for my future!
And Anakin Skywalker? The dude's Darth Vader! And yet, every time he says something, I hear myself--when he thinks in stories, I hear my thoughts! He talks like me, he feels like me...is it just that he represents all of us, or is it that I'm a nutcase?
Elphaba...a smart girl, a prickly girl, intensely aware of the world around her from the day she's born, immediately an outcast. Trying to do right, failing to do anything she sets out to. Misunderstood, a loner, intentionally isolated. God, this is getting deep and slightly depressive. But it doesn't matter. She's me.
And I'm insane.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Things That Make My Brain Melt
I was having a conversation with my friend Erica recently, and we discovered that there are a lot of things that a.) make my brain melt or b.) make unicorns and glitter shoot out of my freaking head and my brain splode. Around Christmas, it seems that that happens more and more, so if you want to know exactly what makes me hoot, here's a brief list of mostly year-round melt/glitter-causers.
- Baby anything (well, except maybe reptiles or snakes)
- "Something There That Wasn't There Before" from Beauty and the Beast
- The last few minutes of Beauty and the Beast, when Belle's crying over Beast and it starts raining glittery fireworks
- John Enos's Chihuahuas, Duke and Bruno, dressed up for Christmas (see: Twitter)
- Mufasa and baby Simba together
- Personal slideshows on Google Docs that perfectly showcase my insanity
- The big romantic love song in any Disney movie
- Kittens playing with yarn
- Extravagant gingerbread houses
- Kids playing in the snow
- My little cousins playing with the wrapping paper and boxes more than the actual gift
- A really good fairy-tale
- The ending of "Cool Hand Guerrero," where Chance gives him a snowglobe for his son and then you see Guerrero pulling up to the house in his ElDo
- The picture of Guerrero's son in the same episode
- Watching people unwrap Christmas presents and being totally excited about what they get
- Seeing that I have more than a thousand views on this blog so far.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Rebels, Misfits, Outcasts, Et Cetera
This is simply because I watched Rudolph two nights ago and the misfit song got me thinking. Enjoy this "photo essay" on some of my favorite...well, just reread the title of this post.
Elphaba, Wicked
The greasers, The Outsiders
Rudolph and Hermie
The Bears, The Bad News Bears
James Dean, Rebel Without a Cause
Ryder, Missionary Man
Guerrero, Human Target
Rorschach, Watchmen
Elphaba, Wicked The greasers, The Outsiders Rudolph and Hermie The Bears, The Bad News Bears James Dean, Rebel Without a Cause Ryder, Missionary Man Guerrero, Human Target Rorschach, WatchmenWednesday, November 30, 2011
A Post There That Wasn't There Before
I got sick the day after Thanksgiving, and so as I lay there convinced I was dying I rewatched Beauty and the Beast and rediscovered why it's my favorite Disney movie ever and Belle my favorite princess. I haven't seen it fully in years, but it hadn't lost any of the hold it had on me before I got a sore throat and stomach virus at the same time.
Oh, and by the way, to add insult to illness, when I woke up at five-thirty Sunday morning and decided that I needed to puke, I went running into the bathroom--literally. The hallway was so dark and I was so sick that half of me went in and half of me slammed into the doorway. But back to Belle.
Belle is, and has consistently been, my favorite Disney princess by far throughout my life. She's brunette, she reads, and she teaches a hideous monster to love again. Girl power!
The story of Beauty and the Beast is, as my friend Melvin so eloquently put it, "a beautiful story," and each time I watch it I find that I love it more and more. This weekend alone I watched it two times and roped my family into watching The Enchanted Christmas with me, and I've decided that I'm watching it again on Friday because, thank God, we're off from school. And my throat's finally feeling better, so I might--just might--be able to sing along with "Be Our Guest" or "Something There That Wasn't There Before" or "Human Again" (special edition, suckers!!!).
And I have no idea, truly, who Robby Benson is, except that he's the dude who sounds like a demon throughout most of the movie. And that he's possibly the best voice they could have picked for Beast (yeah, it ticks me off that Belle's prince doesn't have a name). I also liked that everybody did their own singing, because usually in Disney movies the credits have a voice and then a singing voice although, I have to admit, most of the time they do sound incredibly alike. Sometimes scarily so. I didn't know that wasn't Matthew Broderick singing in The Lion King until, like, two months ago. Honestly.
And I have made it a goal in life to have an entire room--whenever I get a house--devoted to Beauty and the Beast stuff; I want to be a collector.
At least it's not heads, or cats, or Chihuahuas, or those creepy dolls whose glass eyes seem to follow you across the room whenever you have to walk right by them. There's lots of worse things to collect. Leave me alone.
Oh, and by the way, to add insult to illness, when I woke up at five-thirty Sunday morning and decided that I needed to puke, I went running into the bathroom--literally. The hallway was so dark and I was so sick that half of me went in and half of me slammed into the doorway. But back to Belle.
Belle is, and has consistently been, my favorite Disney princess by far throughout my life. She's brunette, she reads, and she teaches a hideous monster to love again. Girl power!
The story of Beauty and the Beast is, as my friend Melvin so eloquently put it, "a beautiful story," and each time I watch it I find that I love it more and more. This weekend alone I watched it two times and roped my family into watching The Enchanted Christmas with me, and I've decided that I'm watching it again on Friday because, thank God, we're off from school. And my throat's finally feeling better, so I might--just might--be able to sing along with "Be Our Guest" or "Something There That Wasn't There Before" or "Human Again" (special edition, suckers!!!).
And I have no idea, truly, who Robby Benson is, except that he's the dude who sounds like a demon throughout most of the movie. And that he's possibly the best voice they could have picked for Beast (yeah, it ticks me off that Belle's prince doesn't have a name). I also liked that everybody did their own singing, because usually in Disney movies the credits have a voice and then a singing voice although, I have to admit, most of the time they do sound incredibly alike. Sometimes scarily so. I didn't know that wasn't Matthew Broderick singing in The Lion King until, like, two months ago. Honestly.
And I have made it a goal in life to have an entire room--whenever I get a house--devoted to Beauty and the Beast stuff; I want to be a collector.
At least it's not heads, or cats, or Chihuahuas, or those creepy dolls whose glass eyes seem to follow you across the room whenever you have to walk right by them. There's lots of worse things to collect. Leave me alone.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Give Me Nightmares Before Christmas
Have you guys ever heard possibly the creepiest Christmas song of all time? No? Well, I hadn't either, not until I heard Louis Armstrong's "Zat You, Santa Claus?" And while the song has one redeeming quality that I shall tell you at the end of this strange, eerie journey, without it it would be one freaking insane song.
In case you haven't guessed yet, this is one of my father's favorite Christmas songs and he taped the lyrics of it to my door to bother me. So let's deconstruct this line by line and verse by verse, shall we?
"Please, please
I pity my knees
Say that's you Santa Claus"
In case you haven't guessed yet, this is one of my father's favorite Christmas songs and he taped the lyrics of it to my door to bother me. So let's deconstruct this line by line and verse by verse, shall we?
"Zat you, Santa Claus?
Gifts I'm preparin'
For some Christmas sharin'
But I pause because
Hangin' my stockin'
I can hear a knockin'
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
Gifts I'm preparin'
For some Christmas sharin'
But I pause because
Hangin' my stockin'
I can hear a knockin'
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
- Recap: The man in the song is hanging his stocking and he hears someone knocking. All right. Not too creepy yet, right? It gets worse.
"Sure is dark out
Not the slighest spark out
Pardon my clackin' jaws
Uh, who there?
Who is it?
Uh, stoppin' for a visit
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
Not the slighest spark out
Pardon my clackin' jaws
Uh, who there?
Who is it?
Uh, stoppin' for a visit
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
- Recap: The man is now getting nervous. And it's really dark out. Scared yet?
"Are you bringin' a present for me?
Something pleasantly pleasant for me?
That's what I've been waitin' for
Would you mind slippin' it under the door?"
Something pleasantly pleasant for me?
That's what I've been waitin' for
Would you mind slippin' it under the door?"
- Recap: The man asks Santa to drop his presents there and leave. Strike one? Santa didn't go down the chimney, and the man didn't say that he doesn't have one.
"Four winds are howlin'
Or maybe that be growlin'
My legs feel like straws
Oh my, my, me, my
Kindly would you reply
'Zat you, Santa Claus?
Yeah
Oh hangin' my stockin'
I can hear a knockin'
'Zat you, Santa Claus?
Yeah, say now
Hey there, who is it
Stoppin' for a visit?
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
Or maybe that be growlin'
My legs feel like straws
Oh my, my, me, my
Kindly would you reply
'Zat you, Santa Claus?
Yeah
Oh hangin' my stockin'
I can hear a knockin'
'Zat you, Santa Claus?
Yeah, say now
Hey there, who is it
Stoppin' for a visit?
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
- Recap: The man hears growling outside. Growling. Last time I checked, reindeer don't growl--and neither does Santa. Crapped yet? Hold on...
"Whoa there Santa you gave me a scare
Now stop teasin' 'cause I know you're there
We don't believe in no goblins today
But I can't explain why I'm shakin' this way"
Now stop teasin' 'cause I know you're there
We don't believe in no goblins today
But I can't explain why I'm shakin' this way"
- Recap: The man is trying to convince himself it's Santa outside, not a "goblin." And yet he's still shaking...
"Well, I see old Santa in the keyhole
I'll give to the cause
One peek and I'll try there
Uh-oh there's an eye there
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
I'll give to the cause
One peek and I'll try there
Uh-oh there's an eye there
'Zat you, Santa Claus?"
- Recap: THE MAN SEES AN EYE IN THE KEYHOLE! SANTA KNOWS IF YOU'RE AWAKE OR ASLEEP--HE DOESN'T NEED TO BE A CREEPER ABOUT IT! PLUS, WHAT IF THE MAN IN THE HOUSE WASN'T STANDING BY THE DOOR? "SANTA" WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SEE HIM! SO IT'S JUST A GUY LOOKING IN!!! I JUST CRAPPED MY PANTS!
I pity my knees
Say that's you Santa Claus"
- Recap: Now the man's not asking anymore; he's begging the
creeperperson outside to say he's Santa. Instead of...what? A creeper?
The end of the song usually gets cut off on the radio, because the music goes on for several seconds more and that's time the DJ could spend talking about his failing liver or playing commercials. But by cutting that out, they also cut out the last line of the song, which thankfully goes: "That's him, all right!"
So, thank God, it's not a murderer out to whack Satchmo; it's Santa. A creeper Santa, but still Santa. So that's good news. But I couldn't have found this out a year ago, the first and only time I heard the song from what I thought was beginning to end, and spared myself the endless terror?
But that's why I did this today, Second Chancers. So I could spare you the endless terror and pee-stained pants that have tormented me for a year now. I hope I've done my job.
And you might want to stop shaking, Frosty. It's over now. Satchmo's safe.
He's also dead, but not because of Santa. I'm pretty sure.
Turkey on White, Turkey on Rye, the Word NiteOwl Only Has One "I"...
Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, fools, so eat up! I know I will. I'm making the mac-and-cheese for our family dinner; I did it last year and, surprisingly, nobody died of food poisoning. Oh, and they liked it. I would have been just satisfied with nobody keeling over, but that they liked it made it even better. I'm more of a baker than a chef, if you really care (which I have the feeling you don't. But I'm the one writing this thing, so it doesn't really matter).
I just wanted to say that I hope you all have a safe, fun, happy Thanksgiving and that I feel so sorry for you people stuck with that crappy traveling situation. I'm not, because my grandmother lives barely twenty minutes from our "apartment community." But don't think I'm rubbing it in, because your NiteOwl would never do that (all right, maybe a little).
Just remember the story of Thanksgiving: Once upon a time, people came from England to America and met some Indians, and John Smith met one who taught him to sing with all the voices of the mountains and paint with all the colors of the wind--
Wait, that's not it? Oh. That's the plot of Pocahontas, sorry. Maybe Linus can explain it better than I can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjqTxqQJM2w
Eat turkey and pie, watch football, gain fifty pounds in five minutes, and be thankful for whatever you feel like being thankful for! Me? I'm thankful for family, the internet, YouTube, the circle of life, chocolate, World's Dumbest, and pie! Here's to not poisoning your family, to stuffing our faces and sleeping for ten hours straight! Hizzah! Hallelujah! Thank you, Indians! Thanks to everybody who made this day possible! Thank you and good night!
I just wanted to say that I hope you all have a safe, fun, happy Thanksgiving and that I feel so sorry for you people stuck with that crappy traveling situation. I'm not, because my grandmother lives barely twenty minutes from our "apartment community." But don't think I'm rubbing it in, because your NiteOwl would never do that (all right, maybe a little).
Just remember the story of Thanksgiving: Once upon a time, people came from England to America and met some Indians, and John Smith met one who taught him to sing with all the voices of the mountains and paint with all the colors of the wind--
Wait, that's not it? Oh. That's the plot of Pocahontas, sorry. Maybe Linus can explain it better than I can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjqTxqQJM2w
Eat turkey and pie, watch football, gain fifty pounds in five minutes, and be thankful for whatever you feel like being thankful for! Me? I'm thankful for family, the internet, YouTube, the circle of life, chocolate, World's Dumbest, and pie! Here's to not poisoning your family, to stuffing our faces and sleeping for ten hours straight! Hizzah! Hallelujah! Thank you, Indians! Thanks to everybody who made this day possible! Thank you and good night!
Monday, November 7, 2011
The Blue Corn Moon
No, I have no idea when that is. I'm just quoting "Colors of the Wind" from Disney's Pocahontas (if you don't like this movie, stop reading this post now.). I had the pleasure of watching it over the weekend, and I rediscovered yet another reason Disney made my childhood wonderful. It's still a great movie.
Now, Dad doesn't like it, meaning that instead of it being able to be part of our Watch All the Classic Disney Movies campaign, I had to watch it alone in my room on my mini DVD player. But that's okay, now that I think about it. Dad would have totally ruined the experience for me by teasing me about how it's really me and John Enos or something stupid like that, like he ruined "A Whole New World" from Aladdin for me. But back to Pocahontas....
I liked it, even though some of the beginning skipped because it was a library DVD and I ended up missing when Pocahontas and her dad were talking and he gave her her mother's necklace. But, thankfully, I didn't miss "Just Around the Riverbend" or "Colors of the Wind" or, basically, anything else after that. I completely forgot how funny Flit and Meeko (and, later, Percy) was. I don't know how that's possible, but somehow, I did...and yes, I did cry at the end, when John Smith was being carried away on his ship and Pocahontas ran to the cliff and they did the whole goodbye-wavy-arm thing. If you think about it, she was the only Disney princess who didn't get her happily ever after. Yeah, I know she married John Rolfe, but we all know she loved John Smith the best.
And yes, Grandmother Willow is a real historical character. The real Pocahontas often spoke to a tree that talked back to her. Didn't you know that?
Now, Dad doesn't like it, meaning that instead of it being able to be part of our Watch All the Classic Disney Movies campaign, I had to watch it alone in my room on my mini DVD player. But that's okay, now that I think about it. Dad would have totally ruined the experience for me by teasing me about how it's really me and John Enos or something stupid like that, like he ruined "A Whole New World" from Aladdin for me. But back to Pocahontas....
I liked it, even though some of the beginning skipped because it was a library DVD and I ended up missing when Pocahontas and her dad were talking and he gave her her mother's necklace. But, thankfully, I didn't miss "Just Around the Riverbend" or "Colors of the Wind" or, basically, anything else after that. I completely forgot how funny Flit and Meeko (and, later, Percy) was. I don't know how that's possible, but somehow, I did...and yes, I did cry at the end, when John Smith was being carried away on his ship and Pocahontas ran to the cliff and they did the whole goodbye-wavy-arm thing. If you think about it, she was the only Disney princess who didn't get her happily ever after. Yeah, I know she married John Rolfe, but we all know she loved John Smith the best.
And yes, Grandmother Willow is a real historical character. The real Pocahontas often spoke to a tree that talked back to her. Didn't you know that?
We Got Spirit? Yes, We Do! We Got Spirit? How 'Bout You? No.
Well, on the Friday before Halloween we had our first pep rally of the school year. And can I just say it was even worse than the last one of last year? And you know how I feel about that one.
Cheering your own class? No. Exciting games that kept us interested? Except for maybe tug-of-war, nope. Interesting musical performances? Please. The color guards' flags weren't even in our school colors. And they're the flags we use in competitions and stuff. Yeah. Way to go, color guard. You rock. Booing the freshmen? Please.
It was, honestly, torture. I would have rather been in class, because my last two periods of the day that that horrible pile-of-crap pep rally stole from me and I shall never be able to reclaim again are basically easy classes that I have fun in. Thanks, "pep" rally. You have sucked my soul dry. I didn't even know there was anything left to suck.
I was so bored that I just started booing everybody. I nearly started writing, except there wasn't really any elbow room. I was already disassociated from my class because I wasn't wearing my class color, green, like everybody else surprisingly was. I don't think that anybody else wasn't wearing green. It was freaky. And I made sure to wear blue, a color that no other class had, because I didn't want to support anybody. I announced to my leprechaun friends at the rally that I was going to make a T-shirt that read "You All Suck" and wear it to the next one. They loved the idea and I'm going to do it. So what if the administration will find it offensive? Maybe they'll through me out and I won't have to sit through another hunk-of- crap rally. Now that's an idea worth cheering....
Cheering your own class? No. Exciting games that kept us interested? Except for maybe tug-of-war, nope. Interesting musical performances? Please. The color guards' flags weren't even in our school colors. And they're the flags we use in competitions and stuff. Yeah. Way to go, color guard. You rock. Booing the freshmen? Please.
It was, honestly, torture. I would have rather been in class, because my last two periods of the day that that horrible pile-of-crap pep rally stole from me and I shall never be able to reclaim again are basically easy classes that I have fun in. Thanks, "pep" rally. You have sucked my soul dry. I didn't even know there was anything left to suck.
I was so bored that I just started booing everybody. I nearly started writing, except there wasn't really any elbow room. I was already disassociated from my class because I wasn't wearing my class color, green, like everybody else surprisingly was. I don't think that anybody else wasn't wearing green. It was freaky. And I made sure to wear blue, a color that no other class had, because I didn't want to support anybody. I announced to my leprechaun friends at the rally that I was going to make a T-shirt that read "You All Suck" and wear it to the next one. They loved the idea and I'm going to do it. So what if the administration will find it offensive? Maybe they'll through me out and I won't have to sit through another hunk-of- crap rally. Now that's an idea worth cheering....
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Freddy vs. Jason 3: It's Not Over Yet
Last week, my brother went on his blog for the first time in months, and what does he do? He goes on a rant disputing my rant about the two muchachos named above. All right, fine. If he wants to play it this way, then SO BE IT. His destruction hath been wrought by his own hand. So sayeth NiteOwl. So let it be typed, so let it be done.
Beautiful, ain't it? He really put my in my place. Now let me put him in his.
First of all (see, I can spell "first" correctly--that's an immediate point for me), he spelled "Krueger" wrong. Usually when you tear into somebody, you make sure you can spell their name right so you don't look like an idiot. It's not that hard. Just Google it, dude. Jeez.
Also, you might want to make sure you can spell the name of the actor right, too. And you don't even have to Google that one, dude. It's scattered all over my blog.
So what if "Krueger" is the name of George's boss? "Vorhees" is also the name of a town here in Jersey. And a car dealership.
I never said Freddy smells good, dude. He probably smells like overcooked bacon or something. So that doesn't bother me, if that was supposed to.
As I recall, in at least one of his movies, Freddy does step back into the real world for a bit. And in the ending of the new one, where he jumps out of the mirror and kills a girl's mom. And it's not the fact that he can't kill you in waking life that's amazing, but the fact that he can go into your dreams and make you kill yourself like he did with the kid who plays Emmett Cullen is. Can Jason do that? Goal for me (insult to injury).
Freddy does not hide in shame (unlike J-Vor). And he doesn't have to. He puts his ugly face out there to terrify the living crap out of you. That's a true horror movie villain, one who shoves his ugly face right into yours and says "This is who I am and, like it or not, you're about to get killed by me."
You're right. I shouldn't have said that you're a "bandwagoner." I should have said that you are a flip-flop fan who has no real attachment to your chosen horror-movie killer and will switch sides without a secondsequel thought.
When you're ranting about something, you really shouldn't go off and rant about something else entirely. It just makes you seem insane. Which you are anyway. But still. They don't need to know that.
I never said that the Freddy movies were Oscar movies, bro. I just said that Freddy is better than Jason.
Episode II is not crap.
So to conclude all this, just saying that your guy will win doesn't mean he will. In your stupid and grammatically incorrect ramble, you didn't give one concrete reason that Jason is better than Freddy. Yeah, sure, maybe it was Jason holding Freddy's severed head at the end (?) of their rumble in Hell, but it was Freddy who winked at the camera. As I am winking now at your utter failure, like I have a piece of pulp in my eye.
*Wink wink wink*
Here's what he so eloquently wrote (and yes, he also stole my title for the post, the rip-off artist; all misspellings and grammatical errors have been copied verbatim from the original and will be underlined, to give you readers a chuckle):
Fist of all, i'm sorry that i was away for so long and i appreciate whoever is still reading this. Now, i just read my sister's blog and i must say, i wish she would just shut the f*** up because i like Jason better then Freddy Cougar- i mean Kruger. Hey F*** Face, (that's what i'm going to call you from now on live with it) has it ever occurred to you that Kruger is the name of George's boss on Seinfeld? I mean, i cant take FK seriously anymore. Not that i ever did. I mean, come on. If Jacky Earle Haley played Jason, you'd be all over him like stink on a monkey (come to think of it, FK probably smells like one too). Anyway, Freddy blows. He has to wait until you fall asleep so he can kill you. Jason doesn't. He can kill you whenever he wants. So ha. And a machete totally beats the sh** out of a gardener's glove with a few sharp things on it. Oooh. If i had a face like Freddy's i'd have to hide in shame. I would suggest a hockey mask but that was already taken by a good horror movie character. I know i was a Freddy fan but i switched to Jason, but how does that make me a band wagoner? I'm just curious. (and totally off topic, i would just like to say that i am dissapointed in the Scream movies. I thought he was a ghost type thingy. But he turned out to be a dude in a mask. But i digress) I admit that the movie Jason X was silly but most movie series have bad movies. Take Star Wars episode II: Attack of the Clones for example. Ew. So to conclude all this, in the epic battle of Freddy vs Jason, the man with the mask will emerge victorious.Beautiful, ain't it? He really put my in my place. Now let me put him in his.
First of all (see, I can spell "first" correctly--that's an immediate point for me), he spelled "Krueger" wrong. Usually when you tear into somebody, you make sure you can spell their name right so you don't look like an idiot. It's not that hard. Just Google it, dude. Jeez.
Also, you might want to make sure you can spell the name of the actor right, too. And you don't even have to Google that one, dude. It's scattered all over my blog.
So what if "Krueger" is the name of George's boss? "Vorhees" is also the name of a town here in Jersey. And a car dealership.
I never said Freddy smells good, dude. He probably smells like overcooked bacon or something. So that doesn't bother me, if that was supposed to.
As I recall, in at least one of his movies, Freddy does step back into the real world for a bit. And in the ending of the new one, where he jumps out of the mirror and kills a girl's mom. And it's not the fact that he can't kill you in waking life that's amazing, but the fact that he can go into your dreams and make you kill yourself like he did with the kid who plays Emmett Cullen is. Can Jason do that? Goal for me (insult to injury).
Freddy does not hide in shame (unlike J-Vor). And he doesn't have to. He puts his ugly face out there to terrify the living crap out of you. That's a true horror movie villain, one who shoves his ugly face right into yours and says "This is who I am and, like it or not, you're about to get killed by me."
You're right. I shouldn't have said that you're a "bandwagoner." I should have said that you are a flip-flop fan who has no real attachment to your chosen horror-movie killer and will switch sides without a second
When you're ranting about something, you really shouldn't go off and rant about something else entirely. It just makes you seem insane. Which you are anyway. But still. They don't need to know that.
I never said that the Freddy movies were Oscar movies, bro. I just said that Freddy is better than Jason.
Episode II is not crap.
So to conclude all this, just saying that your guy will win doesn't mean he will. In your stupid and grammatically incorrect ramble, you didn't give one concrete reason that Jason is better than Freddy. Yeah, sure, maybe it was Jason holding Freddy's severed head at the end (?) of their rumble in Hell, but it was Freddy who winked at the camera. As I am winking now at your utter failure, like I have a piece of pulp in my eye.
*Wink wink wink*
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Dog Food
Hello, people; I'm back! You probably...didn't even notice I was gone, huh? Either that, or you were getting ticked off that I wasn't posting. Well, I'll tell ya why: I was trying to get published. No dice yet, but I'm hoping for something by the end of the year. I'm posting now to let you know that a.) I'm not dead in my nest and b.) I'm having a domestic issue that I want to let you guys know about.
You may be wondering why, exactly, this post is called "Dog Food," considering I don't have a dog (I probably would, except that our "apartment community" charges you extra rent if you have a pet of any kind. Even a gerbil or fish. Dang "apartment community"). It's because we are going to start rewatching all the old Disney animated movies at my house--Saturday we watched Aladdin, and yes, I smiled like a drunken romantic sea lion all through "A Whole New World" like I used to, and Abu was still as monkey-awesome as you remember--, and Dad and I disagree on a few (he likes Cinderella and I don't; I like Sleeping Beauty and he can't stand it--we could have a real debate on this stuff if he would ever get around to POSTING AGAIN ON HERE...hint hint, Dad), and the largest one is Lady and the Tramp. He refuses to watch it.
I love Lady and the Tramp. "Pidge," "Miss Laaaady-ma'am," the spaghetti-and-meatballs thing (but that might just be because I'm flaming Italiano), all of it. Dad...doesn't. I don't know why; he just doesn't like it. And that would be fine because I'm a firm believer that everybody is entitled to their own opinion on things, except that because he's Dad and he doesn't like it, we're not watching it. I mean, I barely squeaked Pocahontas by him, and that's a fifty/fifty chance on that one. He might just make me watch it on my own. But because he likes Bambi, we're watching it at some point. And it's not that I don't like Bambi, because I do, but I don't feel like crying my eyes out like a drunken depressed sea lion, which I always have and always will do when I watch it.
Peg? The Siamese cats? The spaghetti and meatballs? How can you not want to watch it? Or at least go through with it for your daughter, who is going to go through Bambi for you?
Now I'm a drunken angry sea lion. Roar.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Freddy vs. Jason 2
No, they're not remaking it or doing a sequel, as far as I know (although I'm not saying I don't want them to, Jackie "The Freaking Man" Earle Haley vs. whoever the heck played Jason in that remake several years ago, wouldn't that be cool?); my brother and I just made up a little fight of our own--namely, the one we've been having every morning for the past four days while we've been waiting for school to start, while my friend Erica looks on and finds the situation humorous.
In this corner...
Me, with my undying (get it?) support and fan-love for Freddy Krueger and his b------g glove. I mean, I have always been on the Freddy side of the Freddy-Jason debate, even before JEH pulled on the sweater. I just thought he was cooler, and the man formerly known as Kelly Leak only cemented that further in my head, messed-up as it is. I mean, Freddy can kill you in your dreams. What's Jason got? A hockey mask and a machete. Big deal. So what if he came back from the dead? So did Freddy--and Freddy shows his horribly mutilated face proudly. He doesn't hide behind a mask. He has a cool hat. And, for the most part, the movies had a thread of continuity to them--didn't Jason drown in the end of one movie, and then in the next followed a group of teens to an island or whatever it was by swimming behind their boat? What, did he take swimming lessons while he was dead or something? I mean, seriously, dude. Can you or can't you? Only your director knows for sure.
Plus, Freddy has his own freaking theme song (which I have memorized and will one day use as a ringtone when I actually have a cell phone--I don't have one yet, and never have. That's truly scary, dream-killer or not). "One, two, Freddy's coming for you..." Jason has, oh, yeah, "Jason Jason Jason...kill kill kill..." I mean, compare that, bro-dude.
In this corner...
My younger brother, with his on/off fanship of the murderous goalie who has the same name as one of my uncles. You see, he never really had an emotional stake in the game, and that's fine, I don't hate him for that; it's kind of like what I would do if the Red Sox play the Phillies in the World Series, seeing as I kind of hate both teams. Like, a lot. But anyway. I digress. Then one day my brother likes Jason, but we don't really talk about it that much. Fine again. When we do, though, he is strictly pro-Jason. Then one day (about the time the Nightmare on Elm Street remake comes out), my brother decides to go Freddy. This is even better with me, as you know my stance on this. He's been pro-Freddy ever since then...or, at least, until we go to school one day (Monday, actually), and he drops a line about how much Freddy "sucks" (direct quote here).
Yes, that's why I'm writing this post. Because my brother is a stupidface bandwagonner who can't stick to one side and has apparently no emotional attachment to whoever he likes that time because he drops them like a piece of hot iron whenever he feels like it.
That's why I think Freddy would win. Because he's got--well, maybe not God on his side (sorry, had to get a Eurythmics quote in here), but he's got me, and I'm backing him up to the final nightmare. What does Jason have? A mask, a machete, and my brother Flipsy, who clearly doesn't really give a crap about his champion. Freddy's got a sweater, a glove, and NiteOwl, who will never, ever back down from my belief about his superiority.
Clearly, Freddy wins.
In this corner...
Me, with my undying (get it?) support and fan-love for Freddy Krueger and his b------g glove. I mean, I have always been on the Freddy side of the Freddy-Jason debate, even before JEH pulled on the sweater. I just thought he was cooler, and the man formerly known as Kelly Leak only cemented that further in my head, messed-up as it is. I mean, Freddy can kill you in your dreams. What's Jason got? A hockey mask and a machete. Big deal. So what if he came back from the dead? So did Freddy--and Freddy shows his horribly mutilated face proudly. He doesn't hide behind a mask. He has a cool hat. And, for the most part, the movies had a thread of continuity to them--didn't Jason drown in the end of one movie, and then in the next followed a group of teens to an island or whatever it was by swimming behind their boat? What, did he take swimming lessons while he was dead or something? I mean, seriously, dude. Can you or can't you? Only your director knows for sure.
Plus, Freddy has his own freaking theme song (which I have memorized and will one day use as a ringtone when I actually have a cell phone--I don't have one yet, and never have. That's truly scary, dream-killer or not). "One, two, Freddy's coming for you..." Jason has, oh, yeah, "Jason Jason Jason...kill kill kill..." I mean, compare that, bro-dude.
In this corner...
My younger brother, with his on/off fanship of the murderous goalie who has the same name as one of my uncles. You see, he never really had an emotional stake in the game, and that's fine, I don't hate him for that; it's kind of like what I would do if the Red Sox play the Phillies in the World Series, seeing as I kind of hate both teams. Like, a lot. But anyway. I digress. Then one day my brother likes Jason, but we don't really talk about it that much. Fine again. When we do, though, he is strictly pro-Jason. Then one day (about the time the Nightmare on Elm Street remake comes out), my brother decides to go Freddy. This is even better with me, as you know my stance on this. He's been pro-Freddy ever since then...or, at least, until we go to school one day (Monday, actually), and he drops a line about how much Freddy "sucks" (direct quote here).
Yes, that's why I'm writing this post. Because my brother is a stupidface bandwagonner who can't stick to one side and has apparently no emotional attachment to whoever he likes that time because he drops them like a piece of hot iron whenever he feels like it.
That's why I think Freddy would win. Because he's got--well, maybe not God on his side (sorry, had to get a Eurythmics quote in here), but he's got me, and I'm backing him up to the final nightmare. What does Jason have? A mask, a machete, and my brother Flipsy, who clearly doesn't really give a crap about his champion. Freddy's got a sweater, a glove, and NiteOwl, who will never, ever back down from my belief about his superiority.
Clearly, Freddy wins.
vs.
Whose side are YOU on?
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Weird Al 2.0 Rising
As you've probably been able to guess by now, I have a hobby of spoofing songs--both popular and obscure--just like Weird Al Yankovic, and sometimes the Weird Al in me just has to come out, or I'll bust. Well, this is one of those times.
I watch World's Dumbest quite a bit, and among the D-listers and burnouts who comment there is a certain Leif Garrett, who is famous for...well, I guess getting arrested at a subway station with heroin in his shoe, stoned out of his freaking mind. So that inspired me to write this--the idea came to me while listening to Sunday at the Seventies last weekend or so on 98.1 WOGL. So, here ya go.
I watch World's Dumbest quite a bit, and among the D-listers and burnouts who comment there is a certain Leif Garrett, who is famous for...well, I guess getting arrested at a subway station with heroin in his shoe, stoned out of his freaking mind. So that inspired me to write this--the idea came to me while listening to Sunday at the Seventies last weekend or so on 98.1 WOGL. So, here ya go.
ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE (LEIF GARRETT'S)
Based on "One Toke Over the Line"
by Brewer and Shipley
One toke over the line Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Awaitin' for the train that goes home, or somethin'
No ticket for that train or sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Whaaaat is he on, you know it's white lady
He's been dopin', as you can plainly see
He felt the joy and he'll learn about the pain that the cops said
Because he's chosen to make smack a part of him, surely strike him dead
Now he's one toke over the line Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a railway station
One toke over the line
No ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Awaitin' for the train that goes home, or somethin'
No ticket for that train or sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Whaaaat is he on, you know it's white lady
He's been dopin', as you can plainly see
He felt the joy and he'll learn about the pain that the cops said
Because he's chosen to make smack a part of him, surely strike him dead
Now he's one toke over the line Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a railway station
One toke over the line
No ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
Ain't got no sense of time
Busted downtown in a railway station
One toke over the line
He went away for a little while,
Now he's returnin' with a drugged-up smile
He comments on dumb videos and gave himself a few
And to his surprise like everything else he's been through
It opened up his eyes but still he's
One toke over the line
He went away for a little while,
Now he's returnin' with a drugged-up smile
He comments on dumb videos and gave himself a few
And to his surprise like everything else he's been through
It opened up his eyes but still he's
One toke over the line Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
Don't you just know he's got no ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
Don't you just know he's got no ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
Ain't got no sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Don't you just know he's got no ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
Ain't got no sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
You know he's got to be
One toke over the line Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Don't you just know he's got no ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
Ain't got no sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over line
One toke, one toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Don't you just know he's got no ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
Ain't got no sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
You know he's got to be
One toke over the line Leif Garrett's
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Don't you just know he's got no ticket for the train and he ain't goin' home Leif Garrett's
Ain't got no sense of time
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over the line
Busted downtown in a subway station
One toke over line
One toke, one toke over the line
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
School's Back In Session
Well, I'm back in school, and aside from the fact that I actually have to go, it's not too bad. I have some cool classes (like ceramics, finally--I've only been asking for it for three years now) and in English, we had to write a fairy tale, which I just finished, which is freaking sweet. I'm not going to bore you with a rundown of my classes; I just wanted to say that once I'm there, I'm good (but I can't wait to get gone. See, Miss Keller? There's some alliteration for ya). Also, my brother (who still shall remain nameless) started seventh grade in my school (albeit in a separate wing) and I'm kind of his guide, and stuff. Like Saca-freaking-gawea, or something. Except I have a red-and-plaid backpack on my back instead of a baby, and I ride a bus instead of canoeing down a river. But other than that? Same thing.
I really hate going to school. But once I'm there, it's not that bad.
*sound of me screaming as I'm dragged against my will onto the school bus*
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
I don't wanna go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I really hate going to school. But once I'm there, it's not that bad.
*sound of me screaming as I'm dragged against my will onto the school bus*
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
I don't wanna go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Somebody Call the Freaking Tooth Fairy, Will Ya?
Well, I got my four wisdom teeth yanked out, and I won't go into detail because thinking about it just brings the trauma back, and because I want you to read without having to run to the bathroom to throw up, so just let me say that it hurt. A lot. A whole heck of a lot, and I wasn't even as out of it as they had said I would be. But, at first, I was pretty numb, and so I didn't realize that when I went to wipe what I thought was some drool off my upper lip it was actually blood until I opened my mouth to tell Mom that I needed the rag she had brought with her and more "drool" dripped down into my hand and I looked down and saw blood waterfalling out. Fun, right? And at first, I couldn't even swallow because my mouth was so pugged up, so I couldn't take my pain meds until a few hours had passed. So, basically, all I could do was curl up on the couch with a stuffed dog and cry and spit blood into a bucket.
And that's how I spent the last week of my summer vacation, basically. How was yours?
And that's how I spent the last week of my summer vacation, basically. How was yours?
Ninety-Fourever Shall You Rock!
Deceased: 94 WYSP, Friday, September second, along with things like the Extreme Team, the Danny Bonaduce morning show, Mandatory Metallica, Eight from the Eighties (etc.), at three P.M. It went peacefully, with one last "THANK YOU, PHILLY!" and Metallica's "Fade to Black" its funeral hymn. WYSP, which stood for "Your Station Philadelphia," was known for playing "the rock you grew up with" and is fondly remembered by many. Up to the end they kept a smile on their face, thanking the listeners and reminiscing on the good old times, even bringing back some of their old DJs, such as Tommy Conwell, to join in. And, for the first and only time, Boyz II Men were played, as the second-to-last song on Spike's afternoon show.
Thank you, WYSP.
Thank you, WYSP.
"FADE TO BLACK"
BY METALLICA
Life, it seems, will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters, no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Can't stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone
No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters, no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free
Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly lost, this can't be real
Can't stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone
No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye
*Goodbye*
Monday, August 29, 2011
It's the Final Countdown
You may think I'm talking about WYSP (and, yeah, I kind of am, but that's a whole other bunch of posts), but I'm also talking about something that will affect me more physically: I'm getting four wisdom teeth cut out of my face on Wednsday, at, like, eight in the morning because that's when the specialist is in. I'm not going to be up or anything: They're giving me Novacain and gas, which pretty much ensures that Dad will be carrying me from the car to our apartment (in our "apartment community"--that still cracks me up every time) like Darry carried Ponyboy from their car to their house in The Outsiders after they all hugged and cried in the hallway of the hospital after the church fire (Rent it).
This is my final post before then. Wish me luck!
This is my final post before then. Wish me luck!
Look Out Congress--Rudi Stein's Up at Bat!
I'm gonna get straight to the point here: Rudi Stein is running for Congress.
Oh, yeah, I know he has another name, but he'll always be Rudi Stein to me (for those of you who aren't sure who he is, he was The Jewish One on the Bears who Buttermaker told to get plunked with the pitch to get on base). And while, sadly, his political views differ from my own, it's still funny to picture Rudi sitting in Congress actually, you know, doing something.
See? Not all child stars end up like, say, that Olsen. Some of them run for Congress and don't get hooked on drugs and don't die. Well, I don't know for sure that he's not on drugs, but if he is he's certainly doing a good job covering it up. Maybe because nobody's looking to expose the dark personal secret of Rudi Stein.
One question, though. Does he still have that awesome Jewfro?
Oh, yeah, I know he has another name, but he'll always be Rudi Stein to me (for those of you who aren't sure who he is, he was The Jewish One on the Bears who Buttermaker told to get plunked with the pitch to get on base). And while, sadly, his political views differ from my own, it's still funny to picture Rudi sitting in Congress actually, you know, doing something.
See? Not all child stars end up like, say, that Olsen. Some of them run for Congress and don't get hooked on drugs and don't die. Well, I don't know for sure that he's not on drugs, but if he is he's certainly doing a good job covering it up. Maybe because nobody's looking to expose the dark personal secret of Rudi Stein.
One question, though. Does he still have that awesome Jewfro?
Rock You Like a Hurricane
All right, so I dragged out the clichéd Scorpions joke. I'm done now. Kind of.
I hope that you made it through the storm all right, all of you guys out there. We lost power for a little bit--the day after the storm. Transformer or something. Reports that it was a Decepticon are as of yet unconfirmed.
Kind of angry that all the coverage focused mainly on New York City--not Philly, or New Jersey, or North Carolina, Virginia, D.C., or Boston...but that's another rant. This one is about how to survive the next one.
Safety tips? Pug no. Who needs to be safe during a hurricane? I'm going to teach you how to rock out!!!!!!!!!
First, get people you wouldn't mind being stuck in a house with for hours on end (this is not the time to try to make up with that backstabbing best friend who stole your man or the ex who slashed your tires). Then, blow the power and backup generators blaring this freakin' sweet playlist (I would suggest blaring 94 WYSP, but that's not going to be an option after Friday at 3 PM....*sniff*) that I came up with while I was bored and writing by candlelight yesterday. Get your clichés on and get down, you motherfathers!
Until the power goes out, that is.
I hope that you made it through the storm all right, all of you guys out there. We lost power for a little bit--the day after the storm. Transformer or something. Reports that it was a Decepticon are as of yet unconfirmed.
Kind of angry that all the coverage focused mainly on New York City--not Philly, or New Jersey, or North Carolina, Virginia, D.C., or Boston...but that's another rant. This one is about how to survive the next one.
Safety tips? Pug no. Who needs to be safe during a hurricane? I'm going to teach you how to rock out!!!!!!!!!
First, get people you wouldn't mind being stuck in a house with for hours on end (this is not the time to try to make up with that backstabbing best friend who stole your man or the ex who slashed your tires). Then, blow the power and backup generators blaring this freakin' sweet playlist (I would suggest blaring 94 WYSP, but that's not going to be an option after Friday at 3 PM....*sniff*) that I came up with while I was bored and writing by candlelight yesterday. Get your clichés on and get down, you motherfathers!
- Neil Young, "Like a Hurricane"
- The Scorpions, "Rock You Like a Hurricane"
- Panic! at the Disco, "Hurricane"
- Bob Dylan, "Hurricane"
- Need to Breathe, "Hurricane"
- Garbage, "Only Happy When it Rains"
- Frank Sinatra, "Pennies From Heaven"
- The Weather Girls, "It's Raining Men"
- Paramore, "When it Rains"
- The Carpenters, "Rainy Days and Mondays"
- Lena Horne, "Stormy Weather"
- Pitbull/Marc Anthony, "Rain Over Me"
- Luke Bryan, "Rain is a Good Thing"
- Creedance Clearwater Revival, "Who'll Stop the Rain"
- Zac Brown/Jimmy Buffet, "Knee Deep"
- Johnny Nash, "I Can See Clearly Now" (or the awesome rocker version by the band Screeching Weasel, who need to be included on this playlist simply because of their name alone)
Until the power goes out, that is.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Ahoy, Mateys!
I have brought out the leaf-background for a reason: Summer is almost over (unfortunately), and this means that fall is coming.
Personally, I like fall. I would like it more if I wasn't forced to sit in a crappy desk in a crappy classroom in a crappy school--but that's another rant. Er, post, I mean. What I'm trying to say is, I will certainly like fall even more once I graduate high school because I'm certainly not going to college and nobody can make me--
Another rant. I know.
MY POINT HERE IS THAT I LIKE FALL. A LOT. AND A HUGE PART OF THAT IS BECAUSE I LOVE HALLOWEEN.
I love trick-or-treating. Sure, it's more exercise than I usually get in a year, but it's got free candy. Plus, I am into all things spooky because I am strange like that. So that's just even more fun.
I turned sixteen a few months ago, and my parents believe that means I need to stop trick-or-treating. This was sprung upon me as we were in the car riding to Wal-Mart this past weekend and I commented on how I didn't know what I was going to be for Halloween this year.
What, you expected me to just stay home and go with it? Pug no. My brother didn't want to go, and my parents, you know, are tired and everything, so I announced that I would strike out on my own, or with some of my friends depending on where they'll be that day. I never really know with those people. Some have like eight families, others are in activities and stuff...But whatever.
While we were in there, I wandered around, looking for costume ideas (I'm not going to give up an arm and a leg to buy a costume I'm only going to wear once when I can make one out of clothes I have or can wear over and over again.). I found it, too, in this black-and-white striped cami: I'm going to be a pirate with my black gauchos, that shirt, a Leif Garrett-esque bandanna, and some rockin' black leather boots.
Then my dad decided he didn't want me walking around our "apartment community" (those words always need to be parenthesized) alone at night dressed as a pirate, so if I can't round up a cre of my friends (*giggle* pirate joke) and my half-sister and cousins can't come, then he's going with me--walking at least four feet behind me at all times. AT LEAST.
Pirate crew, where art thou? All over the dang county.
Now, where can I find a parrot...?
Personally, I like fall. I would like it more if I wasn't forced to sit in a crappy desk in a crappy classroom in a crappy school--but that's another rant. Er, post, I mean. What I'm trying to say is, I will certainly like fall even more once I graduate high school because I'm certainly not going to college and nobody can make me--
Another rant. I know.
MY POINT HERE IS THAT I LIKE FALL. A LOT. AND A HUGE PART OF THAT IS BECAUSE I LOVE HALLOWEEN.
I love trick-or-treating. Sure, it's more exercise than I usually get in a year, but it's got free candy. Plus, I am into all things spooky because I am strange like that. So that's just even more fun.
I turned sixteen a few months ago, and my parents believe that means I need to stop trick-or-treating. This was sprung upon me as we were in the car riding to Wal-Mart this past weekend and I commented on how I didn't know what I was going to be for Halloween this year.
What, you expected me to just stay home and go with it? Pug no. My brother didn't want to go, and my parents, you know, are tired and everything, so I announced that I would strike out on my own, or with some of my friends depending on where they'll be that day. I never really know with those people. Some have like eight families, others are in activities and stuff...But whatever.
While we were in there, I wandered around, looking for costume ideas (I'm not going to give up an arm and a leg to buy a costume I'm only going to wear once when I can make one out of clothes I have or can wear over and over again.). I found it, too, in this black-and-white striped cami: I'm going to be a pirate with my black gauchos, that shirt, a Leif Garrett-esque bandanna, and some rockin' black leather boots.
Then my dad decided he didn't want me walking around our "apartment community" (those words always need to be parenthesized) alone at night dressed as a pirate, so if I can't round up a cre of my friends (*giggle* pirate joke) and my half-sister and cousins can't come, then he's going with me--walking at least four feet behind me at all times. AT LEAST.
Pirate crew, where art thou? All over the dang county.
Now, where can I find a parrot...?
And Now the End is Near
I don't know where you guys live and all, but if you're in the Philly-New Jersey broadcast area there's a radio station that has been around for over thirty years (my dad listened to it when he was growing up) caled 94 WYSP. I have always listened to it on and off, and around April I began listening to it almost full-time. I love their Eight From the Eighties at noon and their Mandatory Metallica and their Extreme Team and their Live in it and Win (this was the first year I heard it, and the contestant I was rooting for, Tina Bubbles, won, which made it even greater) and the fact that you could win a backyard barbecue where their deejays would broadcast from your backyard. Unfortunately, I don't HAVE a backyard because I live in an "apartment community," so there was no chance of me winning that, which blew chunks, because what an awesome post THAT would have made, but I digress.
The first time I ever listened online to a radio station was the second-to-last day of school in the Language Lab, where the teacher said that we could do whatever we wanted as long as it was quiet and "school appropriate." I plugged in my headphones and chose my station: 94 WYSP. I listened to it the whole time. I head Bon Jovi's "Runaway" and Van Halen's "Why Can't This Be Love" and Jane's Addiction's "Been Caught Stealing," which, okay, normally I hate, but it all sounded a little better online on WYSP. I truly thought that this station would also be the rock I grew up with.
No. Not all the way, anyway. Because WYSP dies on September sixth.
I suppose I could have named this post "The Day the Music Dies," but then I would get "American Pie" stuck in my head, and I don't need that in my life, do you? Oh--darn.
Anyway, I thought that I should inform you--although, if you listened, you probably already knew, and if you don't, it doesn't affect you anyway.
Fine, I'll just leave, then.
P.S.--No word on the publishing yet, but I submitted a poem and a short story to a writing magazine, so we'll see. Fingers crossed, right?
The first time I ever listened online to a radio station was the second-to-last day of school in the Language Lab, where the teacher said that we could do whatever we wanted as long as it was quiet and "school appropriate." I plugged in my headphones and chose my station: 94 WYSP. I listened to it the whole time. I head Bon Jovi's "Runaway" and Van Halen's "Why Can't This Be Love" and Jane's Addiction's "Been Caught Stealing," which, okay, normally I hate, but it all sounded a little better online on WYSP. I truly thought that this station would also be the rock I grew up with.
No. Not all the way, anyway. Because WYSP dies on September sixth.
I suppose I could have named this post "The Day the Music Dies," but then I would get "American Pie" stuck in my head, and I don't need that in my life, do you? Oh--darn.
Anyway, I thought that I should inform you--although, if you listened, you probably already knew, and if you don't, it doesn't affect you anyway.
Fine, I'll just leave, then.
P.S.--No word on the publishing yet, but I submitted a poem and a short story to a writing magazine, so we'll see. Fingers crossed, right?
Monday, August 8, 2011
It's Not You, It's Me
Yes, that's right, I'm dragging that old cliche out for this, but only this once. See, I, NiteOwl, am going away for a while. I'm going to be focusing on my publishing career, and so you will be deprived of my acid-flavored wit for a while, or at least, you won't get it as often as you're accustomed to. Sorry, but don't worry: I vow that I'll be back. And I'm not cheating on you with another blog or anything like that, so rest your paranoid minds.
So remember: Don't fear the reaper, don't pay the ferryman, and I will return someday!
So remember: Don't fear the reaper, don't pay the ferryman, and I will return someday!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
How I Spent Jackie Earle Haley's Birthday
That troublemaking Bear (yeah, I know, which one?) turned fifty on July fourteenth (to certain people out there: Don't you feel old now?). I would have shouted it out except I was grounded from computer, and my family went down to the shore instead (although not to the beach, much to my sadness, though Dad says that trip is coming; just to walk the Ocean City boardwalk).
To celebrate his birthday and, you know, represent, as they say, since nobody else in my family gave a squid, I wore my Nightmare on Elm Street T-shirt, the one where it looks like his claws are coming through the shirt and the one I bought with my own money. I also could have worn my Breaking Away "Cutters" T-shirt, but that movie wasn't really about him and him alone, and besides, I wore that one in my photo for my pool pass. So I wanted to be fair.
Then we all got in the car (after a minor dust-up because I wanted to sit behind Dad on the way to someplace for once, and my brother wouldn't let me and Mom and Dad said it didn't matter--so if it didn't matter, why couldn't he move to the right for once?) and started driving. I really like being in cars and driving places (well, have somebody else driving), and not just cars. I hate my school like it's a horrible flesh-eating disease, but I like the bus ride there and watching things go by and stuff. Field trips, sixth-grade camp, driving to my grandmother's every weekend...Most people can't wait to get to wherever they're going, but often I enjoy the ride there more than the actual place. I just go with the flow, man. You know?
Okay, enough with the philosophy. It was a long ride down, but Dad got us pretzels from WaWa and I was planning out a new novel ,so it was all right. I would have written one, too, but I can't write when the car is moving. Plus, I often bring stuff with me in the car but end up not using it because the stuff outside the window is more interesting (one time, I brought The Outsiders with me on a ride to Philadelphia, but I didn't even touch it. Philly is like an alien planet! I mean, I saw a kid lean out his apartment window and spit!). So I brought my idea/planning notebook and that's it. Well, and this cool mirror I got from the Dollar Tree. And my Kelly Leak sunglasses. But that's it.
I was surprised, because we try to go down at least once a year (though we haven't been in the actual ocean for a few years now...grr!) and when we do I'm usually tired by the first block and it all seems to drag out. This time, though, we were actually moving and moving fast, and I wasn't even tired once we reached the thick of it.
To pass the time when we were walking down, my brother and I made up an amusing story about the Bad News Bears--and yeah, my brother's just as sick of hearing about them as the rest of my family (well, except my mom, but she might just be too patient to say anything), so the fact that he was actively participating in this was, to say the least, startling, but not unwelcome--and what would happen if they all went down to the beach for the day (they live in California, y'all. Don't tell me they never went. I got a fiver on Kelly driving that freakin' sweet van). If you don't care about them at all, first of all, what the heck are you doing on my blog and, second, skip the next paragraph (but I won't tell if you peek).
First off, this is a magical fantasy beach (but, really, what California beach isn't?) where both Carmen and Amanda are present, as well as Mike Leak and Morris Buttermaker. Carmen is acting like some bigshot, saying he got the beach house they're staying at because somebody owed him a "favor." At that moment Carmen's mother comes out of the house, spoiling his Mafia mojo, and offers sandwiches, which Engleburg promptly devours. Engleburg has also managed to hunt down fried chicken while they're there. Kelly Leak is checking out all the chicks in bikinis and Amanda is attempting to get his attention by building a giant sand castle right in front of him in the shape of the Astrodome at a life-size scale. Ogilvie is scaring the s--t out of Timmy by reading shark-attack statistics. Jose and Miguel are beachcombing and digging for seashells. Toby, Regi, and Jimmy are off playing catch. Tanner is getting into fights with weightlifting guys a million times bigger than himself and kicking sand in peoples' faces. Ahmad is boogieboarding and chatting on and on about Hank Aaron. Mike Leak is supervising them all because if nobody else does, somebody's liable to wander off and drown. Why can't Buttermaker do it, you ask? Well, that's because he's busy getting geezed on a bench somewhere and can't be roused even when one of the Bears runs over to inform him that Tanner is currently getting the crap kicked out of him by some Arnold Schwarzenegger-lookalike.
All right, the Bears segment of this is done. To continue...
My family and I ate at the same pizza place we had the year before, which has apparently been visited by a numerous amount of Miss New Jerseys. How do I know this? Because they had autographed photos of them up on the wall. Wouldn't you (depending on who you are)?
Then we started walking again. I'm not giving you a play-by-play because they don't pay me to do that (they don't pay me anything, actually; I do this of my own free will), but we went in an out of stores and looked at all the different rides, like the Ferris Wheel and stuff--I would have gone on, but nobody else would go on with me because they all suck, and I didn't feel like going on by myself. I don't need to spin slowly in circles that much. Dad kept making cracks about Timmy and Tanner going on the Ferris Wheel together because he is convinced they're gay, and I'm convinced he's wrong, so many that I wanted to go on with him just so I could thrown him from the top. Then again, there's a lot of people who make me wanna throw them off the top of Ferris Wheels, and for a lot less, too. So I don't know how balanced a scale that is.
Before I knew it we were at the end and turning around to head back, and I still wasn't tired yet! I'm telling y'all, it was a miracle of Jackie Earle Haley's birthday! Hallelujah!
We walked back and then, all of a sudden, it hit me so hard I could've just fallen over right there. I got tired. And we had, like, thirteen blocks left.
Well, I got so convinced that I was going to die that I begged them to let me sit down on one of the convenient benches they have (you know, the blue ones, with plaques for people who died and whose families donated a bench in their memory, a topic I'm going to have to discuss later), but Dad said no, because then I never would wanna get back up. Well, duh. That's the whole point. Because everybody wants to rot away on a donated bench down at the Jersey shore.
I'll tell ya, the only thing that got me back to the car was the fact that we were going to go to Coldstone Creamery once we got back home and I will do anything for chocolate. I all but fell asleep on the car ride home, and the only reason I didn't is because--well, there's two-- a.) like I said earlier, I enjoy car rides and wanted to look out the window and b.) the sun was shining right on my side of the car, so it was too hot for me to sleep, even with the air on. I'm really bad with heat and sleep. So my skin didn't burn and peel off, I pulled off my beloved Nightmare on Elm Street shirt--don't worry, I had a tank top on underneath, and that's because my NOES shirt was white and there was no way in heck I was going to risk getting chocolate ice cream on it; you should have seen how paranoid I was in the pizza place--and used it as a kind of sun-repellent blanket the whole ride home. Dad's reaction was priceless when he glanced in the rearview mirror: "*NiteOwl*, what the hell are you doing?"
We went to Coldstone and I got my peanut butter cup ice cream in a sugar cone, dipped in chocolate with nuts on it, and my brother kept cracking up every time I said "My nuts are falling off" or "I'm dropping my nuts." I know. Isn't that hilarious? Peanut-other nut humor? Yeah, all right, I laughed too. And Dad said "You guys are sick" as he laughed along with us. And I ended up getting full and eating the cone the next day.
And that was how I spent Jackie Earle Haley's fiftieth birthday.
P.S.--While Dad was in a gas station checking his lottery tickets, my mom informed me that as soon as I walked into a bookstore down at the boardwalk, a kid who looked just like Kelly Leak walked by. Just my luck.
To celebrate his birthday and, you know, represent, as they say, since nobody else in my family gave a squid, I wore my Nightmare on Elm Street T-shirt, the one where it looks like his claws are coming through the shirt and the one I bought with my own money. I also could have worn my Breaking Away "Cutters" T-shirt, but that movie wasn't really about him and him alone, and besides, I wore that one in my photo for my pool pass. So I wanted to be fair.
Then we all got in the car (after a minor dust-up because I wanted to sit behind Dad on the way to someplace for once, and my brother wouldn't let me and Mom and Dad said it didn't matter--so if it didn't matter, why couldn't he move to the right for once?) and started driving. I really like being in cars and driving places (well, have somebody else driving), and not just cars. I hate my school like it's a horrible flesh-eating disease, but I like the bus ride there and watching things go by and stuff. Field trips, sixth-grade camp, driving to my grandmother's every weekend...Most people can't wait to get to wherever they're going, but often I enjoy the ride there more than the actual place. I just go with the flow, man. You know?
Okay, enough with the philosophy. It was a long ride down, but Dad got us pretzels from WaWa and I was planning out a new novel ,so it was all right. I would have written one, too, but I can't write when the car is moving. Plus, I often bring stuff with me in the car but end up not using it because the stuff outside the window is more interesting (one time, I brought The Outsiders with me on a ride to Philadelphia, but I didn't even touch it. Philly is like an alien planet! I mean, I saw a kid lean out his apartment window and spit!). So I brought my idea/planning notebook and that's it. Well, and this cool mirror I got from the Dollar Tree. And my Kelly Leak sunglasses. But that's it.
I was surprised, because we try to go down at least once a year (though we haven't been in the actual ocean for a few years now...grr!) and when we do I'm usually tired by the first block and it all seems to drag out. This time, though, we were actually moving and moving fast, and I wasn't even tired once we reached the thick of it.
To pass the time when we were walking down, my brother and I made up an amusing story about the Bad News Bears--and yeah, my brother's just as sick of hearing about them as the rest of my family (well, except my mom, but she might just be too patient to say anything), so the fact that he was actively participating in this was, to say the least, startling, but not unwelcome--and what would happen if they all went down to the beach for the day (they live in California, y'all. Don't tell me they never went. I got a fiver on Kelly driving that freakin' sweet van). If you don't care about them at all, first of all, what the heck are you doing on my blog and, second, skip the next paragraph (but I won't tell if you peek).
First off, this is a magical fantasy beach (but, really, what California beach isn't?) where both Carmen and Amanda are present, as well as Mike Leak and Morris Buttermaker. Carmen is acting like some bigshot, saying he got the beach house they're staying at because somebody owed him a "favor." At that moment Carmen's mother comes out of the house, spoiling his Mafia mojo, and offers sandwiches, which Engleburg promptly devours. Engleburg has also managed to hunt down fried chicken while they're there. Kelly Leak is checking out all the chicks in bikinis and Amanda is attempting to get his attention by building a giant sand castle right in front of him in the shape of the Astrodome at a life-size scale. Ogilvie is scaring the s--t out of Timmy by reading shark-attack statistics. Jose and Miguel are beachcombing and digging for seashells. Toby, Regi, and Jimmy are off playing catch. Tanner is getting into fights with weightlifting guys a million times bigger than himself and kicking sand in peoples' faces. Ahmad is boogieboarding and chatting on and on about Hank Aaron. Mike Leak is supervising them all because if nobody else does, somebody's liable to wander off and drown. Why can't Buttermaker do it, you ask? Well, that's because he's busy getting geezed on a bench somewhere and can't be roused even when one of the Bears runs over to inform him that Tanner is currently getting the crap kicked out of him by some Arnold Schwarzenegger-lookalike.
All right, the Bears segment of this is done. To continue...
My family and I ate at the same pizza place we had the year before, which has apparently been visited by a numerous amount of Miss New Jerseys. How do I know this? Because they had autographed photos of them up on the wall. Wouldn't you (depending on who you are)?
Then we started walking again. I'm not giving you a play-by-play because they don't pay me to do that (they don't pay me anything, actually; I do this of my own free will), but we went in an out of stores and looked at all the different rides, like the Ferris Wheel and stuff--I would have gone on, but nobody else would go on with me because they all suck, and I didn't feel like going on by myself. I don't need to spin slowly in circles that much. Dad kept making cracks about Timmy and Tanner going on the Ferris Wheel together because he is convinced they're gay, and I'm convinced he's wrong, so many that I wanted to go on with him just so I could thrown him from the top. Then again, there's a lot of people who make me wanna throw them off the top of Ferris Wheels, and for a lot less, too. So I don't know how balanced a scale that is.
Before I knew it we were at the end and turning around to head back, and I still wasn't tired yet! I'm telling y'all, it was a miracle of Jackie Earle Haley's birthday! Hallelujah!
We walked back and then, all of a sudden, it hit me so hard I could've just fallen over right there. I got tired. And we had, like, thirteen blocks left.
Well, I got so convinced that I was going to die that I begged them to let me sit down on one of the convenient benches they have (you know, the blue ones, with plaques for people who died and whose families donated a bench in their memory, a topic I'm going to have to discuss later), but Dad said no, because then I never would wanna get back up. Well, duh. That's the whole point. Because everybody wants to rot away on a donated bench down at the Jersey shore.
I'll tell ya, the only thing that got me back to the car was the fact that we were going to go to Coldstone Creamery once we got back home and I will do anything for chocolate. I all but fell asleep on the car ride home, and the only reason I didn't is because--well, there's two-- a.) like I said earlier, I enjoy car rides and wanted to look out the window and b.) the sun was shining right on my side of the car, so it was too hot for me to sleep, even with the air on. I'm really bad with heat and sleep. So my skin didn't burn and peel off, I pulled off my beloved Nightmare on Elm Street shirt--don't worry, I had a tank top on underneath, and that's because my NOES shirt was white and there was no way in heck I was going to risk getting chocolate ice cream on it; you should have seen how paranoid I was in the pizza place--and used it as a kind of sun-repellent blanket the whole ride home. Dad's reaction was priceless when he glanced in the rearview mirror: "*NiteOwl*, what the hell are you doing?"
We went to Coldstone and I got my peanut butter cup ice cream in a sugar cone, dipped in chocolate with nuts on it, and my brother kept cracking up every time I said "My nuts are falling off" or "I'm dropping my nuts." I know. Isn't that hilarious? Peanut-other nut humor? Yeah, all right, I laughed too. And Dad said "You guys are sick" as he laughed along with us. And I ended up getting full and eating the cone the next day.
And that was how I spent Jackie Earle Haley's fiftieth birthday.
P.S.--While Dad was in a gas station checking his lottery tickets, my mom informed me that as soon as I walked into a bookstore down at the boardwalk, a kid who looked just like Kelly Leak walked by. Just my luck.
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