I think I'm vaguely stuck in the 90's...

Despite the fact that I'm barely old enough the remember the 90s.

You see, back this spring, my dad replaced the radio system in my car (against my protests that it was perfectly functional, thank you very much).  Or rather, the car that my parents so graciously allow me to drive.

Now, my radio has a fancy radio, a USB and auxiliary input.  I hardly use them.  All I use is my CD slot.

I love CDs, and I don't know why.  It would be easier, and higher quality, less wasteful, and the same thing if I just made playlists and played those.  But there is something I can't give up about CDs.

It's irrational, I know.  It drives my dad bonkers.  Sorry.

Maybe I'm just a hipster?  I dunno.  I just love my CDs.

On an absolutely, totally unrelated note, I broke my phone.  (That's not really true.  It was a very logical, straightforward thinking process.  I went to Wikipedia to read about CDs, because I was curious.  It made me think of my Wikipedia app and how I love it with all my heart, because I can read random things whenever I want, which made me think of my phone.)

While on vacation, I dropped it.  It smacked the corner of a wooden table and got a deep crack in it.  Luckily, the touch screen still works (as of right now, at least) but it's done funky things to the LCD screen.  It started with purplish discolorment that started around the deepest crack, and slowly spread across the screen like a rainbow.  Once a full rainbow made it across, now it's all dark and hard to read.  Not fun, and it's gonna cost a lot to fix.  :(

Because that description did not adequately capture the situation, I made a guide to show the progression of the death of my screen.  I'm quite proud.

Better late than never, right?

Today is February 7.

Five days ago, I meant write a lovely rant about Groundhog Day.  Well, you're about to be subject to said rant, because instead of the five-second rule, I follow the five-day rule.  Groundhog Day is still fair game.

Speaking of fair game, it's not like you would prefer me to write about the Super Bowl, right?  *cue groans and screams of agony*

...

After that introduction, I'm worried that my lovely rant cannot live up to such high expectations.  You're thinking that this rant had better be INCREDIBLE to be worth posting five days late.

It isn't incredible.  It's average.  Mediocre.  Practically incoherent.

I just realized this whole post is a big fat wad of disappointment waiting to happen.

BUT

Even disappointment can be a good present if it looks nice.  I shall wrap this disappointment in shiny wrapping paper, with glitter, and all will be right in the world.

How shall I accomplish this?  Friends, allow me to present: The Illustrated Rant - Groundhog Day Edition

I don't generally like concerts

They're too loud, and the music doesn't sound as good.  Mostly though, with music, I generally like a couple songs from a band, but not enough to warrant going to the concert.  Why sit through music you don't care for just for those few songs you like?

So, there are only a few bands that I would actually want to go to a concert for.  I would go see Rise Against, Matt & Kim, and the Dropkick Murphys.  I mean, there are a few others, like Queen (I'm seeing a cover band of them soon!) but it's not quite right without Freddie Mercury.

So, all three of them have been on tour recently, and for all three, I found out about the concert in Boston the day after the concert occurred.

Which is why I stand before you today, concert-less.  This sucks.

Speaking of which, am I the only one who thinks that Defunct Pasta would be a great name for a band?  I kind of wish I had some inkling of musical talent, so I could form a band with a cool name.

Background still undecided.  Sorry.

Just going on a tangent (pun intended)

Since when do they even give you projects in math?  I think my last one was in 8th grade, but that wasn't a project.  We had to make a kite (my group won Best Design: it was an Escher lizard tessellation).

But basically, we have a Pre-Calc Project.  We have to choose an island, find its tide information, and graph it as a sine or cosine wave.  Then, do this stuff involving slope and wheelchair ramps and other things that I won't get into.

I have a group of three.

Theoretically.

In reality, it's a group of me, except there will be three names on the final project that we hand in.

Girl Scout Cookie season is upon us

I'm a Girl Scout, and the only decent cookies out there are the Caramel deLites/Samoas.

Gasp!  Go ahead, cart me off to Girl Scout prison, where they keep the cookie-dissenters, the refusers-to-wear-the-vest, and the most frightful criminal of all, the Girl-Scout-who-won't-sing-camp-songs.

In all seriousness, I love Girl Scouts.  The cookie sales are a little dubious, that's all.

They make it seem like selling cookies goes like this:

But actually, cookie selling goes more like this:

It's a very difficult trade.  They try to bribe you (If you sell 2400 boxes, you get an iPad) but it's unreasonable to expect anyone with half a life to sell many.  And if you think you're supporting that cute little girl on your stoop when you buy her cookies?  Wrong - more than 80% of the money goes to the council: troops only get 60 cents per box.

Want to actually help Girl Scouts?  Just give a donation.  I know it's hard, but can you resist those delicious, processed, mass-produced cookies?  

SC: "Summer Camp" or "Supreme Court"?

The camp I work at calls themselves [initials deleted due to stalkers who will try to hunt me down and roast my innards]SC.  Unfortunately, having spent a full year in APUSH, whenever I see the initials "SC" I think "Supreme Court."  It's just the way I'm wired.  Like when people were discussing ceramics and the first thing that came to mind was Henry Clay.  Is this a curse or a blessing?  I have yet to decide.

Anyway, today was the last day of Circus SC.  It was a sad, joyous day.  Sad because of all the campers I'll miss, joyous because, multiple times over the course of the summer, I had urges to hit my head against a wall.  With adequate force.  I can't decide whether I love or can't stand these kids.

"Why are the shirts blue?  I hate blue!"
"I CAN'T [insert circus art here that they refuse to do]"
"I'm not flexible, I shouldn't have to do stretching."
"I don't want to do an act with her!  She's bad at it!"
"When is [lunch, swimming, ect]?"
"Why do I have to listen to you?"

They don't understand what the words "straight legs" or "pointed toes" mean, despite repeated instruction.  They don't get that warm-ups mean actually trying, or you have to run laps.  They just don't get that you can't walk on the rolling globe (large ball to walk on) without a spot the first time.  I don't know why.  Was I this dense in elementary school?

But then again, I can't help but to love them.  Watch them learn to do cool things in just one week and get their full splits.  And connect with them.  Like the 7-year-old identical twins ho we just call Thing 1 and Thing 2, and whichever one is closer at the time is Thing 1.  Or the boy who started the summer with no experience and ended with a full straddle split.  And the girl who at first couldn't do a somersault and then was dive-rolling over other campers.

I wish I got paid more though, ya know?

Not to mention the 40-minute commute everyday.  Summer Camp is crazy stuff.  If you're looking for some peace and orderly quiet, check out the other SC.  I hear that our government is never crazy, and not one person has reported that it makes them want to bash their heads against a wall.
Sarcasm hand.
However, check out Secret Cauliflower and Sticky Cadillacs, because I hear they're quite entertaining.

I feel so free!

Wow, I'm actually pretty proud of this here piece of artwork.  It took time, skill, dedication, and pure sweat.  But I could do it.  You know why?

The AP Exam is OVER

Today was a beautiful day once it got past 12 noon.  I'm now legally bound not to discuss it for 48 hours, so let's just rejoice in it's over-ness.

And look forward to the days of 40-page essays that my teacher historically assigns after the exam.

But let's not think about that!  Today I ate ice cream and read a book (the first one in several weeks that wasn't my APUSH textbook!)

I even got a cake to celebrate.  If you can't read it, it says "APUSH piece of cake"

This is how I studied for APUSH.  I sit in the middle.

And just to celebrate, here's a few other pictures I've been stockpiling on my phone:

A ceramic dinosaur!!!  My sister made it for me, how awesomely cool is that!!!

A sign I put up in my bathroom to give a friendly tip to my sister.  You'll notice it's almost the same as my comment message.  That's because you can put anything into the third line and it's a multi-purpose poem.  I highly recommend using it often.

Another sign I put in the bathroom.

A PINK CAR!!!

Just Killed Multitudes of Brain Cells

I don't know what got into my - some strange urge driving me to watch the song that everyone has been bashing.  Yes, you know the one: Friday, by Rebecca Black.

Everyone else on the Interweb has already stabbed this song to pieces with blunt coat hangers, then charred the remnants on a gas grill and left it out for the raccoons, so there's not much I can say about this song's atrocity that you haven't already heard.  Did she really think I wasn't sure that Thursday came before Friday, or Sunday came after Saturday?  Why is it so hard to choose a seat in the car?  Why is there a car anyway, if they're in like middle school?  But I won't go on, though I could for hours.  This song is just wrong.  It shouldn't even exist, it's so terrifyingly horrible.

This is the kind of thing that makes me fear for the fate of humanity.

"Severe Storm Warning"

Severe storm warnings have become my life this lovely winter. Honestly, the weatherman could just put an audio clip for "severe storm warning" on repeat, kick back and relax until April, and no one would ever know.

Personally, I think I would make a great weatherperson. Example broadcasts:
"Good morning, New England! We're having another severe storm warning today. This one, I promise, will be extra severe. No more sissy blizzards! We're in the big leagues now!"
"This storm is headed right for us. For those listeners in New England, you're smack in the middle of the No-way-you'll-survive-this zone.I suggest hibernating until spring comes. Stock up on mac n cheese."
"The groundhog died today when its underground burrow froze from excessive snow. It looks like this will mean six more years of winter."
"We've just received news that Boston has frozen over. Yes, that's right, I'm afraid the Patriots will not be present on Super Bowl Sunday. I think they're busy eating snowcones."

Us New Englanders are famous for being half-Eskimo in our abilities to survive these winters that make us wonder why the hell we even live in this frigid corner of the USA. We are proud of it. All the neighbors bow down to He Who Has Six Snowblowers. We brag about our shovel quality. We compare road salt brands.

But this is ridiculous. I read that we've gotten over six feet of total accumulation since Chritsmas. For those of you in warmer climates, "accumulation" means "a whole freakin' lot of snow is coming your way".

This is me at Christmas:

This is me in early January:

This is me in mid-January:

This is me right now:

And this is what I will look like by the end of this winter:

I wonder what we'll all do when the snow gets past our windows and doors and we're stuck in our houses for a few weeks. Luckily I have an emergency chocolate stash under my bed, just in case need be.

Global warming?? What global warming????

UPDATE:
At least this here church is helping us fight against the wrath of the snow:

I hate the Interweb

My plan:

1. Go on computer
2. Go to school webpage
3. Find guidance counselor e-mail address
4. E-mail guidance couselor about schedule changes
5. Get off computer, do homework

What actually happened:

1. Go on computer
2. Go to school webpage
3. Open Gmail and Facebook while school webpage is loading
4. Check notifications, read new e-mails
5. Start G-chatting with friend
6. Get annoyed I can't find my guidance counselor's e-mail address
7. Check SparkLife and xkcd to relieve tension
8. Remember I haven't checked my awesome blog in a few days
9. Notice the tempting StumbleUpon link on my bookmarks
10. I can't believe I just wasted an hour stumbling
11. Go back to school webpage to feign doing work
12. Hey - it's actually right here! The e-mail address!
13. Compose e-mail to counselor
14. Start another G-chat while on Gmail
15. Father threatens to cut internet connection

I swear I'm not addicted. I'm just...distracted easily.

But there is one good thing that came out of it. As a gift to all you excellent readers out there, here are two excellent photos and such that I discovered whilst Stumbling.

 

UPDATE:

It happened again, but here are two more lovely picture for ya.

Ratios and Doctors

I went to the doctor's today. A little while ago, I reported to you all that I'm sick. Turns out I had pneumonia. Don't back away like that! I looked it up on Wikipedia and it's not contagious via the Internet. You're safe.

I'm all good and cured now, so I went back for a follow-up appointment. To check and make sure that I'm not dead or anything. And I discovered something:

I hate waiting in doctor's offices.

First there's all the sick people around you, with germs floating everywhere. I just got better, 'kay? Not to mention that doctors Always Run Late.

So I spent my hour devising a lovely mathematical formula to tell you how competent your doctor office is. Here it is:

   Time spent waiting   

Length of appointment

My appointment consisted of the doctor listening to my breathing for thirty seconds and declaring me cured. So I'll plug in my numbers to show you how this handy formula works:

50 minutes

1.5 minutes

Any mathy nerds like me out there have already whipped out their graphing calculators and simplified this. Or done it in your head. Whatever. The answer, by the way, is 33.3333.

Now look on the chart to see your results:

<1 - That's good! Give your doctor's office an A+++

1-2 - Eh. Not terrible. Depends on how long your appointment is.

3-5 - That's pretty bad.

6-10 - This is the average for my doctor's office.

>10 - Wow, that's REALLY slow.

>30 - FAIL.

Notice which category my wait today falls into?

Snow: a Blessing or a Menace?

"People were being cruel to me today. They laughed at me and called me names and wouldn't let me join any of their reindeer games....

Oops, wait, wrong person.

Anyway, there was this one guy who was mean to me. He kept saying things to me that seemed really nice, and I thought he was my friend. I tried called him later to thank him, I was so exited, but I couldn't find his number. But then, I found out he had lied to me! I was so angry and upset and sad. I cried that night.

I don't know his name, this guy. But I feel like I know him personally. And he personally betrayed me. My weatherman.

He called for snow. "A blizzard!" he cried, to the cheers of teenagers everywhere. I was among them. We were all taken in by his empty promises, his blatant lies.

"Several feet!" he exclaimed, and we stamped our own feet in joy.
"The roofs will cave in!" he declared, and we raised the roof in response.

We left him feeling fulfilled. Joyful. Anxious for the deliverance of the promised snow.

And then we got nothing. Not a damn snowflake.

And that is why I hate my weatherman this lovely afternoon."

That is what I wrote about a week ago, but forgot to publish it. Now, we're having the "Blizzard of 2010" up here in the northern reaches of the US of A. They'd better hope that it stops before this Friday, or they'll have to call it the "Blizzard of 2010/2011" and that's just not as catchy.

A week ago, I yearned for snow. They said we would have a snow day. I thought that would be pretty great. Why do we always have the giant snowstorms on the days that we already have school off??

A week ago, I wanted snow so badly. Now, I'd rather give it back. It's annoying. It made me slip and fall on my icy driveway. It made me cold and wet. It made my arms ache after I pushed my little cousins on sleds for hours on end.

Yes, snow. My frenemy. I love it sometimes, and sometimes it's nice to me. Then there's the times that we just don't get along at all...

Ick, I'm Sick

I'm sick. I hate it.
I'm a really weird person. You watch movies like Ferris Bueller and that's the norm, isn't it? Kids hold the thermometer up to light bulbs to raise their temperatures, so they can skip school.

If my mom wasn't watching me the entire time, I would hold my thermometer up to an ice cube.

Mom: "Your temperature is... 85 degrees? Either you have pneumonia or you cheated."

I just can't stand missing school. Yes, I'm such a nerd. But really. I hate doing stuff like make-up work. Having to stay after to take tests that I missed. Yucky stuff.
So, unlike Ferris, I try to convince my parents that I am completely well enough to go to school.

Usually I fail.

I hate being a lazy lump. Yesterday I missed school, circus class, and math team. Instead, I watched Kung Fu Panda. You're all probably jealous. I was miserable.

The only good side to all this is that at least I can sleep in. I only just woke up.

Ticks: Why I Hate Them

In the beginning, there was nothing. And then, there were ticks.
They swarmed the earth, feeding upon anything they could find. Initially, they were herbivores, that is, they only ate green things. Like lettuce. Or green Jell-O. Or green crayons.
But one day, a tick named Reginald accidentally ate a zebra. It was painted green, and he had thought it was a normal meal. But he discovered that it had this weird red stuff on the inside. He liked it. He told all his ticky friends about it, and soon, there were no magical green zebras left. Deprived of a food source, they had to turn to normal-colored zebras, and eventually all sorts of mammals. They didn't care, as long as they contained the yummy red liquid.

And so, the ticks evolved to be blood-sucking creatures of doom. No one likes them. Not even Edward Cullen.

Why am I telling you the fascinating history of ticks, you ask? Well, I found one on me today. It was yucky. And attaching to my shoulder. You probably don't want to hear about this. It's making me cringe as I type it. But I hate ticks. They're vampires, and no one likes those.