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.

I'm not Irish, but you can kiss me anyway

Seriously.

But yes, today is the excellent day devoted to St. Patty.  He is Irish.  And a saint.  And likes the color green.  And that's about all I know.

Actually, I don't know much about the Irish in general either....I will list all the facts I know about the Irish.  Here:

• They like the color green
• They are short and have red beards, and give away gold at the ends of rainbows
• They once had a notable lack of potatoes
• They like beer
• They dislike the Brits
• They have a Boston basketball team named after them

Any Irish readers out there, I wouldn't mind a couple Irish facts to add to my collection!
Today is the day to honor the Irish.  We all wear green.  We might do other things too, but I don't know what they are.  I'm not Irish, remember?  I just used toady as an excuse to wear my fantastic bright neon green tank top.  And some green bead necklaces that I borrowed from my friend.
Other than that, I can't recall anything that made today very Irish-y.  What a ripoff.

P.S.  To see an amazing, beautiful Venn Diagram depicting my feelings on this holiday click this link right here.
P.P.S.  On a very random note, I wonder who Mr. Venn is, the one who invented Venn Diagrams.  I'd like to meet him sometime, he seems like an interesting guy.

Has made dinosuar cookies

So my sister and I made some dinosaur cookies the other day.  We found these dinosaur-shaped cookie cutters in the back of the closet - I couldn't resist!  These go way high up there on my list of dinosaur things I love.  I LOVE the Kraft dinosaur-shaped mac n cheese, but those have to be eaten by the spoonful.  Dinosaur cookies, on the other hand, can be made to fight each other while slowly being devoured limb by limb.  This is best when you follow my example and add sound effects as well.  It is extremely rewarded to be growling and munching cookies while having they attack each other.  I highly recommend the experience.

It got me thinking about dinosaurs.  I mean, why are there no more left?  Clearly, natural selection is cruel, because dinosaurs are far cooler than chipmunks or snakes or whatever we currently have.  If you think about it, natural selection is pretty smart.  It gave us platypi and bananas and turtles.  Clearly, it has good judgment, and would have left the dinosaurs for us.  Which leaves the idea that...

Pickles Will Kill You

The truth has been revealed about the murderous nature of pickles.
Not by me.  I didn't write this.  I "borrowed" it from this website.

Every pickle you eat brings you closer to death.  Amazingly, the "thinking man" has failed to grasp the terrifying significance of the term, "in a pickle." Pickles are associated with all the major diseases of the body. Eating them breeds wars and communism.  They can be related to most airline tragedies.  Auto accidents are caused by pickles.  There exists a positive relationship between crime waves and consumption of this fruit of the curcurbit family.  For example:

• Nearly all sick people have eaten pickles.  The effects are obviously cumulative. 
• 99.9% of all people who die from cancer have eaten pickles.
• 100% of all soldiers have eaten pickles. 
• 96.8% of all communist sympathizers have eaten pickles. 
• 99.7% of the people involved in air and auto accidents ate pickles within 14 days preceding the accident. 
• 93.1% of juvenile deliquents come from homes where pickles are served. 

Evidence points to long term effects of eating pickles:

• Of the people born in 1839 who later dined on pickles, there has been a mortality rate of 100%.
• All pickle eaters born between 1908 and 1918 have wrinkled skin, have lost most of their teeth, have brittle bones, and failing eyesight--if the ills of eating pickles have not already caused their death. 

Even more convincing is the report of a noted team of medical specialists:
Rats force-fed with 20 pounds of pickles per day for 30 days developed bulging abdomens.  Their appetites for wholesome food were destroyed.

In spite of all the evidence, pickles growers and packers continue to spread their evil.  More than 120,000 acres of fertile US soil are devoted to growing pickles.  Our per capita consumption is 4 pounds.

Eat orchid petal soup.  Practically no one has as many problems from eating orchid petal soup as they do from eating pickles.

Yes, I'm a Girl Scout. Don't Stereotype me!

So I spent the weekend on a Girl Scout ski trip in Vermont.  You know, that state above Massachusetts that looks like a trapezoid?  That's the one.  I hear they are famous for maple syrup.  Maybe something else too, but I forget.

Did you even read those sentences about me bashing Vermont?  Probably not, because you're still thinking, ZOMG, she's a GIRL SCOUT?? Like, those second graders that sell cookies door-to-door?  Wow, fail.

Well, you're wrong.  So ha.  I'm a Girl Scout, and we are awesome.  For example, view a sampling of our weekend activities:

Dance Party: Yep.  We blasted "Cha Cha Slide" and "Cotton Eye Joe" and got the entire house totally into it.  Fantastic.

Skiing: This was, ya know, the whole point of our weekend ski trip.  Some of the highlights were when my fellow Girl Scouts and I would ski down the slope with our poles straight up screaming/singing "I throw my hands up in the air sometimes..." - and got people to join in.
Not to mention that it was Mardi Gras weekend, and they were giving out those little colorful bead necklaces.  So we did what everyone was doing, and what any awesome teenager would do - tossed them in the trees on the way up the chairlift.


Ping-Dodge: This is like ping-pong, except slightly more vicious.  And when I say slightly, I mean very.  Basically, we all just chuck ping-pong balls at each other.  It only got dangerous when someone got the bright idea to throw the paddles as well.  We drew the line at pool balls, however.

Capture the Flag:  Your basic game except it was pitch back out, with no flashlights.  It was all well and good until a large wooden post fell on my sister.  You don't really want to know.

Food: We left a bag of M&Ms in the kitchen, and whenever we walked through we would grab a handful.

Don't you dare say that Girl Scouts are stupid.  Clearly, we had a more epic weekend then you did.  Deal with it, or I might "forget" to deliver your cookies.

February Break has come to a close

February break is over and done with.  Blech.  I need more sleep.
Okay, you guys deserve a coherent post, even if I am very sleep-deprived.  I think it has something to do with being on a midnight to 10 sleep schedule and suddenly being forced to wake up at 6.
In addition, I would like to apologize for not posting over break.  You people deserve better.  Yes, I know, I had sooo much free time, I could have given you lots of the humorous awesomeness that you love (I hope).

But I didn't.

Why?  No idea.  But as an excuse, I will tell you that I was far too busy doing things to post.  This is an overview of my week, to prove I had absolutely no free time:

Saturday: Worked all day (I work at the library).
Sunday: Church.  Outline a chapter for APUSH (learn about the agricultural revolution of the late 1800s)
Monday: Outline another chapter (United States imperialism) and play Wii.
Tuesday: Dentist appointment.  Eye doctor appointment.  Outline another chapter (Progressivism)
Wednesday: Outline another chapter (President Wilson, start of WW1).  Play more Wii.  Brother comes home from college.
Thursday: Spend the day in Boston.  Hang out at Quincy Market, North End, all that fun stuff
Friday: Spend the day at my friend's house.  Meet her adorable puppy.  Film our video for French.  Lip-sync to Celine Dion.
Saturday: Take pictures for photography class.  Hang out.  Relax.
Sunday: Church.  Circus.  AUGH, end of vacation!!!

See?  I had absolutely no free time in which to grant you a post.  This is why this one is here.

The most interesting thing (besides Boston and friend's house) was my brother coming home from college.  He gave me some presents :)


The presents from my brother
1. All 52 episode of Magic School Bus, on DVD
2. An addiction to Minecraft
3. An introduction to Portal
4. Helpful hints while playing Portal
5. A bruise on my big toe
6. Course selection recommendations

Happy Singles Awareness Day

Ha.  I guess I forgot to put up any sort of Valentine's Day post.  Meh.  Hope you had fun playing footsie or kissy or lovey-dovey or whatever you sickenly sweet couples do on holidays made just for you.

Bah humbug.

Here's a math valentine.  It's called Sierpinski.  I think that is some guy's name.  It's, like, infinite hearts.  Seriously.  Zoom in on the thing if you don't believe me.
Probably symbolism to infinite love, yadda yadda.
Can you tell I'm bitter?
Let's just get this over with.  Here ya go.  Now don't bother me about Valentine's Day.  Maybe someday I'll tell ya why.

I didn't draw this, obviously.  I don't generally sign my pictures with the name of a website, ya know?

 UPDATE:
So I found another picture that I had drawn for my Valentine's Day post while trying to clean up my desktop.  Hope you like it.  Hope I don't have any Irish people at my house with swords tonight because I made fun of St. Patrick's day.  I'm sorry, people, I'm not Irish.  I am, however, American, and I still think Columbus Day is stupid.  Poor guy, he probably thought he was all that.

Super Bowling

I've decided that next Super Bowl, we will start a tradition to go Super Bowling.  IF you don't know what that is, refer to the handy guide below:

Those are the Packers and Steeler's symbols, in case you didn't know.  No worries, I didn't either before I Googled them.
I was going to make some witty, scathing remarks about how stupid it is that the Green Bay Packer's logo is a G, their city, instead of a P, their team.  Then I remembered that the Boston Red Sox logo is some weird spiky B, so being a proud Massachusettian I will wisely keep my mouth shut.

I could go on and on about the commercials.  No one even watches the game, they just watch the commercials.  I could tell you all about them, but we all already know the baby Vader Volkwagon was the best, Sketchers was inappropriate, yadda yadda.  Let's have a more interesting conversation.

As a side note, I say conversation in an ironic sense to quote my history teacher.  He tells us we have such great historical conversations in class when he often does all the talking.  Therefore, this is a conversation because I am talking to you.  It would be nice, though, if you could comment to have an actual conversation.  Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Now, back to the Super Bowl (no pun intended).  Its basically a socially acceptable version of a struggle for male dominance.  See the figure below:

What I most don't get about it is why the wear tights.  Same with baseball.  It's just wrong.

And just to throw a bit of controversy in here:
For those who enjoy quoting the Bible to say that homosexuality is evil, I hope you don't like football.  Because, of course, according to Leviticus 11:6-8, touching the skin of a dead pig makes you unclean.  Chew on that for a bit, huh?

What I Do During Chemistry

Just a little doodle for you to feast your eyes upon:

Red Button Of Death

It is...
*drumroll*
a Magical Big Red Button
Whatever you do, don't click it.
I assure you, the results will be dire.
You might even blow up the world.

 This is what happened to me. Are you sure you still want to click that button?
Beware, reader. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Groundhog Day

Ever seen that movie? It's pretty good. I like the part where he falls in a large puddle.
But Groundhog Day is more than just a movie. It's a significant part of our culture. Where would we be without worshiping a large Pennsylvanian rodent? Probably right where we are right now. Except that Punxsutawney, PN would be minus world-wide fame.

But this year it doesn't matter anyway. Because if you read my last post, you would know that Punxsutawney Phil is dead. The ground froze over his underground hideout. I'm sorry. I bet that rodent had a special place in your heart.

But if he's dead, then it means he didn't see his shadow. So spring is coming. I'm waiting.

*waits*

It's still not here yet. It's still sleeting and being completely winter-ish outside. What a ripoff.

I think the only good part about this snow day is the dinosaur mac n cheese that I had for lunch.

"See, no shadow! Maybe spring is finally coming!"

"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.

This is what this blog is all about

Being wacky and weird.
Being awesome and epic.
Being so amazing that you pour chocolate sauce on pancakes.

Because these here pancakes are DRIZZLED IN AWESOMENESS

If water guns are any indicator, I should be kept far away from any sort of weaponry

I have decided what to spend my Amazon gift card on. I got it for Christmas and have spent the last 20 or whatever days scouring Amazon for epic things to buy. I've made lists, pro/con tables, pie charts, bar graphs, and spent many hours deliberating on this very important question - if you had $20 and could buy anything (I swear, Amazons sells EVERYTHING), what would you buy?

Well, I've finally come to a conclusion. I'm buying a marshmallow gun.

I'm not sure if this is the wisest choice for someone like me, who only realized last week that Hershey's kisses are nothing but large chocolate chips. Whenever my sister and I would play with water guns as kids, one of us would end up in tears. It's not our fault. We just played a slightly more vicious game of water-gun hide-and-seek than other children.

And then we got the laser guns. They're like the ones in LazerZone, except you don't need a stupid outfit. you just shoot each other's guns with invisible laser beams. Pretty epic. Except...they also came with mini-missiles to fire at people.

I'm sorry, okay!! I wasn't aiming for her face!!

And then there was that time when we toured Fort Sumter in Charleston, SC. First, you should know that I'm part monkey. I'm rather obsessed with climbing on things. Like Civil War-era cannons, for instance.
It didn't go off, luckily, but I think it was a close call. I doubt they would have been pleased if it had. I mean, the place is already destroyed, and the museum people wouldn't have appreciated it if it had been doubly blown up.

...it would have been kind of cool, though. They would have talked about me at the museum. "And then, our lovely monument was blown sky-high by some crazy teenager who thought the cannon was a trampoline."

Despite my history with weaponry, I'm buying myself a gun that shoots marshmallows across the room. Can you name anything more epic? Yeah, I thought not.

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?

Why I Love Marketing

'Nuff said:

One Of Life's Mysteries: Solved!

I am here to take a large load off your shoulders.

*takes load off of your shoulders*

There, that feels better, doesn't it? Hey...why do I have your backpack?? I was talking about a  figurative load; I don't want this...

In case you were wondering, the figurative load that you have just been relieved of is one that has been haunting you since childhood. An impossible question, suddenly made possible by yours truly.

Tell me, which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Actually, to scholars of history, this is quite a simple question. Straightforward. At least, compared to the "Assess whether the Panic of 1837 was Andrew Jackson's lasting legacy as president of the USA" question that I got on my recent APUSH test. At lease the question I just posed to you does not contain the words "assess", "analyze", "evaluate", "to what extent", or something similar.

Got the answer yet? I promise you there is one. And it's not tricky either. It is one of the two options in the question. No hidden strings.

My favorite part of this picture is are the crowd silhouettes. I was quite proud of them.

Stuck? Okay, the answer is....*drumroll*....the egg.

I could just end the post right here, you know. That would be cruel of me, but funny. I'd leave you lost in a forest of confusion, wandering around bumping into trees thinking "Why is it the egg? WHY?"

Because, my friends, dinosaur eggs were around far before chickens.

Life's mystery: solved! Cross that one off your bucket list!

Snippet of my Bucket List
42. Solve a Rubik's Cube
43. Figure out that stupid question about chickens and eggs
44. Blow up a marshmallow in the microwave
45. Ride a cow

UPDATE:
Some people have argued that I'm slipping through loopholes, and the real question means chicken eggs. In that case, it was obviously the chicken that came first. Chicken dinosaurs* were around waaaayy before chicken eggs.

*Chicken Dinosaur [chik-un di-noe-sawr] n. A dinosaur that is a chicken, or a scared, cowardly dinosaur. (ex. When danger reared its ugly head, the chicken dinosaur turned and fled.)

Kudos To Crowne Plaza

I love the Crowne Plaza. In case you don't know, they're a hotel. They might be a chain. Probably. But I only know of one, and its the most epic hotel ever. I know this even though I've never stayed there.

The particular hotel in question is on top of the Mass Pike, which happens to be in the wonderful state of Massachusetts. Ya know, hence the "Mass". That's the first epic thing about this hotel. The Mass Pike goes under this hotel. Which is cool for a person from Nowhereville, MA, like me.
Sure, Shaw's is on top of the Mass Pike too, but who likes Shaw's??

But the position of this hotel is not even the reason I'm writing this, even though it is rather amazing. No, the reason is this:

Can you even figure out what this is a picture of? Yeah, I thought not. My friends, this is what a hotel looks like when you take a picture of it with a cell phone camera while going 70 mph on the Mass Pike.

This is a picture I stole from Google images. I'll apologize in advance for any copyright whatevers. But, believe it or not, the following picture and the picture above are of the very same hotel on the very same day:

I'll add, that "very same day" happened to be just a few days before Christmas. Those little boxes of yellow light are hotel rooms. For the literacy challenged, they spell the word, "JOY".
Can you now see why I love this hotel?

So my mom and brother and I, we oohed and ahhed as we drove under the hotel. We were pretty impressed. I took a picture. And I would have forgotten about this experience, except...

This one is also awful, and I couldn't find a Google replacement, so I will have to set the scene for those who cannot decipher my poor cell-phone-camera photography.

Date: January 2, 2011
Time: Nighttime. Hence, you know, the darkness.
Place: Crowne Plaza Hotel. Mass Pike.
Description: One day after New Year's, a girl, her sister, and her mother were driving on the Mass Pike. The girl was moody that her Radio Privileges had been revoked after they heard the same song three times (It was a good song!). Her sister was singing in the backseat to some pop song. She grouchily stared out the windshield only to be dazzled by the beauty of the thing before her. Behold! The Crowne Plaza hotel, which she had seen just a week earlier, now back with a new message! She frantically dug out her phone and took a crappy picture to commemorate the moment forever. The End.

And that, my friends, is why I love Crowne Plaza hotel.

Welcome to 2011

Welcome to the first post of 2011.

Now, just to spoil the mood, let's remind ourselves that this will be the last complete year of our lives. Ya know, because the world will end Dec. 21, 2012.
Right. Bring it on, Mayans.

Thing I find most interesting is this - I've lived during two different millenniums, two different centuries, and three different decades!
Personally, I find that rather impressive.

Enough rambling about deep stuff like how cool it is that I've lived forever. How was your New Year's Eve?

I rather liked mine. I went to FirstNight Boston. Which is, um, in Boston. Yeah. I walked in the parade. Actually, stiltwalked, with my circus school. Fairly amazing, considering there were about 100 thousand people, at least, watching me and cheering me on. I guess that was what it feels like to be a celebrity.

Then I sat on a police car. Like, on top of the car. Ever done that? I thought not. I imagine it would be hard to get to if you didn't have five-foot legs. Sure, they yelled at us and stuff, but it was cool while it lasted. I can cross that off my bucket list.

Snippet of my Bucket List
76. Climb Bamboo Trees in China
77. Learn to juggle
78. Sit on top of a police car
79. Go out for movies and Chinese food on Christmas Day

After that awesomeness, I nearly starved to death waiting 45 minutes to eat at Uno's.
I don't really mind, though. Have you tasted the crust of their deep-dish pizza? *drools* That stuff is to die for.

Then, I went home. I watched Get Smart until 1 in the morning. When midnight came, I paused the movie, jumped on the sofa for a minute, then sat back down and continued watching.

How about you guys?