BIKE PUNK!!!!!!!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Happy Happy Unbirthday to You!
Happy late LATE LATE birthday to my dad the guest-star. I kept forgetting to do that. Sorry. So I just did. What, you want a song or something? Fine. Here's a photo of your favorite person in the world (besides me, of course)...
Top of the Muffin To You!
Happy Saint Patrick's Day, people! I know it's a little late, but I don't really give a...
Whoo. Almost said something...regrettable, there. Sorry if any children read this.
My background is shamrocks right now, even though it's over. I cling to things, in case you haven't noticed. Except Valentine's Day. That can go straight to...
Oops. Almost regrettable again. Man, I've got to stop doing that.
In my school, the junior high kids--who are kept in a separate wing like zoo animals--are all exceptionally small, for some reason, and they shrink even more each year. I was going to be in the language lab St. Patty's Day, which would put me right outside their zoo--I mean, wing. And I was going to trap one in green, sell them as a leprechaun, and make millions. Unfortunately, I forgot my net, so that plan went down the toilet. I didn't even get a doughnut with green frosting or sprinkles like I usually do, or a shamrock sugar cookie. Which meant, food- and money-wise, this Day totally blew.
Anyway...
What I want to talk about here is baseball. A lot of people I know go nutzo over it, and since spring training has started (I'm probably late on that, too, I know), I figured I might as well list my favorite teams, probably in no particular order, just as I remember them.
HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY! DON'T GET TOO DRUNK, BECAUSE THEN YOU CAN'T READ MY BLOG! LOVE ALL YOU LEPRECHAUNS OUT THERE! REPRESENT!
Whoo. Almost said something...regrettable, there. Sorry if any children read this.
My background is shamrocks right now, even though it's over. I cling to things, in case you haven't noticed. Except Valentine's Day. That can go straight to...
Oops. Almost regrettable again. Man, I've got to stop doing that.
In my school, the junior high kids--who are kept in a separate wing like zoo animals--are all exceptionally small, for some reason, and they shrink even more each year. I was going to be in the language lab St. Patty's Day, which would put me right outside their zoo--I mean, wing. And I was going to trap one in green, sell them as a leprechaun, and make millions. Unfortunately, I forgot my net, so that plan went down the toilet. I didn't even get a doughnut with green frosting or sprinkles like I usually do, or a shamrock sugar cookie. Which meant, food- and money-wise, this Day totally blew.
Anyway...
What I want to talk about here is baseball. A lot of people I know go nutzo over it, and since spring training has started (I'm probably late on that, too, I know), I figured I might as well list my favorite teams, probably in no particular order, just as I remember them.
- The San Diego Padres
- Toronto Blue Jays
- San Francisco Giants (shut up, Dad)
- The Bears
HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY! DON'T GET TOO DRUNK, BECAUSE THEN YOU CAN'T READ MY BLOG! LOVE ALL YOU LEPRECHAUNS OUT THERE! REPRESENT!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Catcher's Mitt Strike Two, Baby I'm Howlin' For You
Could I just take a moment to thank the Black Keys for the title of my new post? Thank you, Black Keys. Okay, I'm good.
Sorry I haven't been on in a while; I've been throwing up. I had a stomach...thing, I guess, is the best way to put it. So I haven't been on. The high point, though, of being sick was that, in between bouts with a bucket, I got to view for the first time in its entirety, the original Bad News Bears. I loved it.
It was so cute, and good, that I didn't even care that it was from the seventies. That even helped a little, I think, because, really, nothing like that could be or has been made today, or should be attempted (yeah, I'm lookin' at you, Billy Bob Thornton. Why don't you come over here and do something about it? Oops, sorry. Found myself channeling Tanner for a minute there).
I really, really loved this movie. My dad--who has become a recurring guest-star on this blog, I've lately realized--says that it's because I have some sort of crush on Jackie Earle Haley--which I do not--, but I know better. It's just a really good, funny movie that I want to watch over and over and over and over and over and over and...
Yeah, I think you get it. If you don't, what's your problem, dude? Why you hatin'?
Anyway, I'm asking for it for a birthday present (but, you know, if you have an extra copy of it lying around right now that you feel like sending to me, hit me up), and I really (really really really, you get the point) hope I get it. Sure, they're not all-stars, but they had fun. And there was a girl on the team. So, you know, that helped.
Tatum O'Neal was really good in it, by the way. It was almost scary.
So, yes, in between bouts of throwing up I managed to enjoy the story of Morris Buttermaker and Timmy Lupus ("Lumpus") and Engelburg ("My shrink says that's why I'm so fat!) and the young punk Kelly Leak (the riding-his-Harley-across-the-freaking-field thing was classic) and the Agilar brothers ("I've been brushing up on my Spanish, and I think he said that he's Catholic and it's a sin") and the rest. It produced some great lines, like "Go sit in the bleachers before I shave off half your mustache and shove it up your left nostril" and "Couldn't you have at least unwrapped it?" and "It wasn't an infielder error because he wasn't there." Also, it gave me some of my favorite movie scenes ever, like the one where some of the team are watching Amanda doing ballet and Engelburg's chowing down on a bucket of fried chicken, and the aforementioned Harley-across-the-field-on-opening-day part, and the whole air-hockey thing. (I kick butt at air hockey, by the way. Come on, sucker. Try me.)
If you're bored, and it's on, check it out. And if you're not bored and it's on, check it out anyway. And if it's not on, go find it.
And yes, I wrote this whole post in yellow to honor their uniform colors; so what? You got a problem or something?
Sorry. Got possessed by Tanner again.
Yay; I just realized I have two more in the series to watch. That makes me so happy...
Shut up, Dad.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Keep Your Hopes Up High and Your Head Down Low
For those of you who haven't heard, I hate Christina Aguilera, and I giggled uncontrollably to myself when I heard that she had been arrested. Also, I loved Pink's Tweet about it: "Out of Britney, Christina, and me, didn't everyone think I would be the problem? Look, Ma, no cuffs!" God, I love her.
In other news, I've been even clumsier than usual recently. First, I slipped on some unsalted ice in front of my apartment on my way to school--why it wasn't salted yet, I don't know, and they're lucky I didn't feel like suing anyone that day, because I would've sicced Brad Chase, my go-to legal man, on them in a second--and fell on my arse, and also managed to pull a muscle in my upper thigh. Then I had to go to the weight room in gym and I think that was a bad activity to sign up for (in my defense I did it before I was harmed by somebody's gross negligence) because I strained it some more, and I'm now walking--if that's what it is--with the flesh-and-blood equivalent of a peg leg. Argh. I'm a pirate.
Then I slept on my right side the whole night--I usually sleep on my back--with my fist jammed in my neck for some reason (I don't know; I woke up like that). Now, when I turn my head to the right, I can only move it somewhat before pain shoots up and down my face. IT'S NOT A GOOD TURN! On the plus side, though, it proves I'm not possessed, because if I was possessed I would be able to turn my head all the way around no matter which way I slept (do demons even sleep??? Burning question--pun. Hee hee.). Sadly, though, my days of doing owl impressions have come to a screeching halt for the time being, which sucks, because my name is NiteOwl. Crap.
Also, my neck was starting to feel better when I worked out and somehow twisted it again. Darn.
Then I strained my right arm doing I-know-not, especially because I'm a leftie.
I woke up with random sinus pain and the left half of my face felt like it was going to explode. Then I had to take medicine and almost fell asleep while I was presenting my PCR/Gel Electrophoresis slideshow in Biology today. Thank God we had a movie in American Studies last period. I could sleep.
Ooh, the Decemberists!
Sorry. Got distracted for a minute there. Where was I? Oh, yeah. My pain.
I sat on my foot too long and crushed it.
My leg fell asleep because I did (I didn't even know that was possible). Then I couldn't wake it up, even though I did (really, if it's going to be connected one way, it might as well be connected the other way, right, dude?). It hurt to walk on.
Can I just say "Thank God" that I don't use my locker? Because by now I think I would have smacked myself in the face or got crushed by falling crap or got something like a finger or my braid stuck in there.
THANK GOD.
I have to go. My papercut--which I gave myself--is acting up. I'm an inch away from smacking my face on a desk or breaking a hip, and we all know it's downhill from there. I'd ask you to tell me to break a leg, but don't. I actually might. Actually, I think I just did. Can you break your leg sitting at a computer?
Ooh, the Decemberists!
In other news, I've been even clumsier than usual recently. First, I slipped on some unsalted ice in front of my apartment on my way to school--why it wasn't salted yet, I don't know, and they're lucky I didn't feel like suing anyone that day, because I would've sicced Brad Chase, my go-to legal man, on them in a second--and fell on my arse, and also managed to pull a muscle in my upper thigh. Then I had to go to the weight room in gym and I think that was a bad activity to sign up for (in my defense I did it before I was harmed by somebody's gross negligence) because I strained it some more, and I'm now walking--if that's what it is--with the flesh-and-blood equivalent of a peg leg. Argh. I'm a pirate.
Then I slept on my right side the whole night--I usually sleep on my back--with my fist jammed in my neck for some reason (I don't know; I woke up like that). Now, when I turn my head to the right, I can only move it somewhat before pain shoots up and down my face. IT'S NOT A GOOD TURN! On the plus side, though, it proves I'm not possessed, because if I was possessed I would be able to turn my head all the way around no matter which way I slept (do demons even sleep??? Burning question--pun. Hee hee.). Sadly, though, my days of doing owl impressions have come to a screeching halt for the time being, which sucks, because my name is NiteOwl. Crap.
Also, my neck was starting to feel better when I worked out and somehow twisted it again. Darn.
Then I strained my right arm doing I-know-not, especially because I'm a leftie.
I woke up with random sinus pain and the left half of my face felt like it was going to explode. Then I had to take medicine and almost fell asleep while I was presenting my PCR/Gel Electrophoresis slideshow in Biology today. Thank God we had a movie in American Studies last period. I could sleep.
Ooh, the Decemberists!
Sorry. Got distracted for a minute there. Where was I? Oh, yeah. My pain.
I sat on my foot too long and crushed it.
My leg fell asleep because I did (I didn't even know that was possible). Then I couldn't wake it up, even though I did (really, if it's going to be connected one way, it might as well be connected the other way, right, dude?). It hurt to walk on.
Can I just say "Thank God" that I don't use my locker? Because by now I think I would have smacked myself in the face or got crushed by falling crap or got something like a finger or my braid stuck in there.
THANK GOD.
I have to go. My papercut--which I gave myself--is acting up. I'm an inch away from smacking my face on a desk or breaking a hip, and we all know it's downhill from there. I'd ask you to tell me to break a leg, but don't. I actually might. Actually, I think I just did. Can you break your leg sitting at a computer?
Ooh, the Decemberists!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Cheer Up, Freddy. You're Actually a Very Popular Guy
I'd really, really like to see the new Nightmare on Elm Street film, but Dad won't let me right now, craaap.....
Anyway, I'm interested in the whole Elm Street lexicon (and because I am, I finally noticed on my bus ride home that there's an Elm in my little town, and yes, I wanna move there) and so I spend my free time learning generally anything I can about it, and there was a section on Krueger's Wikipedia page about how he was mentioned and stuff in other media, and there was a whole section about the K-Man in music, which surprised me. I mean, the obvious name-checkers were there, like Stormtroopers of Death, but then I found Eminem had referenced him in not one but two songs, "Insane" and "Underground," and then, scrolling down a little more, I found somebody had made a song about Nightmare, somebody who surprised me:
The. Fresh. Prince. Of. Freaking. Bel. Air.
The song is called "Nightmare on My Street," and I'm listening to it for the second time RIGHT NOW. No, I actually am. Never mind that the K-Man gets Jeff in the end, it's a good song. I have no emotional attachment to him, anyway. But, really. The FRESH PRINCE?
I don't see why he has to go after all those kids, then, if everybody writes all these songs and everything about him. Shouldn't he just settle for that and go on vacation or something? If anybody's an advertisement for anti-psycho meds, it's that guy. Heck, if I were him, I'd be satisfied with being on South Park and go to bed already.
Imaginationland Pt. 2, anybody?
Anyway, I'm interested in the whole Elm Street lexicon (and because I am, I finally noticed on my bus ride home that there's an Elm in my little town, and yes, I wanna move there) and so I spend my free time learning generally anything I can about it, and there was a section on Krueger's Wikipedia page about how he was mentioned and stuff in other media, and there was a whole section about the K-Man in music, which surprised me. I mean, the obvious name-checkers were there, like Stormtroopers of Death, but then I found Eminem had referenced him in not one but two songs, "Insane" and "Underground," and then, scrolling down a little more, I found somebody had made a song about Nightmare, somebody who surprised me:
The. Fresh. Prince. Of. Freaking. Bel. Air.
The song is called "Nightmare on My Street," and I'm listening to it for the second time RIGHT NOW. No, I actually am. Never mind that the K-Man gets Jeff in the end, it's a good song. I have no emotional attachment to him, anyway. But, really. The FRESH PRINCE?
I don't see why he has to go after all those kids, then, if everybody writes all these songs and everything about him. Shouldn't he just settle for that and go on vacation or something? If anybody's an advertisement for anti-psycho meds, it's that guy. Heck, if I were him, I'd be satisfied with being on South Park and go to bed already.
Imaginationland Pt. 2, anybody?
***
After this entry was written, the author, NiteOwl, moved to a nice little house in the middle of Elm Street in her small, quiet town. After her family couldn't get through to her for a week, somebody was sent to investigate and NiteOwl was found dead in her bed. Suspicious claw marks were found on her wall and on her sheets. No suspect has, as of yet, been named.
Just kidding. I'll be back soon. Freddy can't stop my blog.
Hey, what's that sound?
I Know It's February, but for Me it's December
My English teacher--who is awesome, by the way, and who I wish I could have as a teacher every year--plays music in the morning, on his stereo or from his iPod, and he loves this band called the Decemberists. I had heard of them before, but never one of their songs, and then I heard one one morning. It was called "The Mariner's Revenge Song." It was awesome. I love them now. That song inspired me for the story where my main character's mother is killed by a psychopathic dude who was posing as a PI to find victims. And another song by them, "This is Why We Fight," is on the inspiration playlist for another story I'm working on about a bunch of mutant freaks.
So, you know, if you have the time, check them out. Especially The Hazards of Love.
So, you know, if you have the time, check them out. Especially The Hazards of Love.
Everything Zen? I Don't Think So
I refuse to write the name of my brother's blog because I don't sponsor idiocy (actually, that's a medical disease. It should have a capital "I." "Idiocy."). But I feel the need, just in case some of you out there have stumbled upon it, to debunk some things he said so you're not going around with a bunch of lies about me floating around your head like those turds in the toilet that won't go down no matter how many times you flush.
I did not, when my brother screamed "FLOOR IT!" at a red light, think he said "Florist." I said it sounded like he did, and then I tied it off into a neat little joke about Emma Barnes, Pizzarino (that's my brother)'s little snuggle bunny. I knew what he said. I just remarked what it sounded like he said.
I do not say "muh book!" in this funny accent. I don't. Sorry. Go snort some oatmeal, Pizzarino, or get a life or something. And yes, I deny saying "vensday" because I didn't say it! It's like with the whole florist thing, except he was stupid enough to actually think I said it. And then he has the jerichos to write about it on his blog! Again. Get a life.
I do not love Mark Valley. I do not like the "Corner Man" episode because he has his shirt off almost the whole time. It also has people punching the utter crap out of each other, and you know how I feel about that (in case you don't, it's hard for me to watch sometimes, when there's blood or whatever. But there were no leaking bodily fluids in this one, which made it easier for me to watch).
Yeah, you knew what was in my old stories, the ones I wrote when I was like, ten. That was before I got better. And so far, everyone who has read my stuff has found it "enjoyable" and "very good" and all that crap. So there. Well, they've all moved, but still. They still liked it.
News flash: I know what's in yours, too, Rookie.
I am not obsessed with the "peccalin" scene in Patriot Games, you jerk. I think it's cute. Forgive me for, you know, having a soul. And I'm not the only one who reads, does, or says things over and over again. At the risk of Dad shooting me for saying it, remember "ostronata," or whatever the freak you were saying?
You spelled "Christensen" wrong, you twit.
I did not, when my brother screamed "FLOOR IT!" at a red light, think he said "Florist." I said it sounded like he did, and then I tied it off into a neat little joke about Emma Barnes, Pizzarino (that's my brother)'s little snuggle bunny. I knew what he said. I just remarked what it sounded like he said.
I do not say "muh book!" in this funny accent. I don't. Sorry. Go snort some oatmeal, Pizzarino, or get a life or something. And yes, I deny saying "vensday" because I didn't say it! It's like with the whole florist thing, except he was stupid enough to actually think I said it. And then he has the jerichos to write about it on his blog! Again. Get a life.
I do not love Mark Valley. I do not like the "Corner Man" episode because he has his shirt off almost the whole time. It also has people punching the utter crap out of each other, and you know how I feel about that (in case you don't, it's hard for me to watch sometimes, when there's blood or whatever. But there were no leaking bodily fluids in this one, which made it easier for me to watch).
Yeah, you knew what was in my old stories, the ones I wrote when I was like, ten. That was before I got better. And so far, everyone who has read my stuff has found it "enjoyable" and "very good" and all that crap. So there. Well, they've all moved, but still. They still liked it.
News flash: I know what's in yours, too, Rookie.
I am not obsessed with the "peccalin" scene in Patriot Games, you jerk. I think it's cute. Forgive me for, you know, having a soul. And I'm not the only one who reads, does, or says things over and over again. At the risk of Dad shooting me for saying it, remember "ostronata," or whatever the freak you were saying?
You spelled "Christensen" wrong, you twit.
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