La Butte

Bunnies Bunnies it must be Bunnies!!!
One of the lovely inhabitants of failure English was just telling me about her brand new bunny, and how sometimes he's difficult and says "ah I'm lame i don't want you to hold me!" and I thought about the evil killer bunny in Monty Python with great big pointy teeth. Then I thought about a musical episode of Buffy in which one of the deamons decides that the thing that has been killing everyone is Bunnies! I found that amusing because when you look at a bunny you can just tell it could never really kill anything. Except maybe some helpless alfalfa weeds, or maybe that's their ploy. They look like Innocent fuzzy fluff balls but they're really rather evil. I bet you that's why all the white ones have creepy blood read eyes. Vampire Bunnies!!!! OMG
The end.

so, danq

Having spent my very last seconds in the french class which has been scratching its nails on the chalkboard of my brain for the last three years, today I can finally vent all the terrible frustration that has been aching to be screamed at my french teachers uncomprehending face. The first offense being this "so, danq" which she frequently spouts during long speeches that have nothing to do with french. "danq" (pronounced :donk) is french slang for "so". These words mean exactly the same thing. Yet, she consistently speaks them adjacent to each other. this perplexes and annoys the remaining contents of the class, which has shrunk from its original 3 first year classes my freshman year to about 5 students mixed in with her third years. This decrease in the population of the students who choose not to take Spanish is not due to the difficulty of the language, or scheduling problems. It is due to the strange and ineffective ramblings of the teacher. I myself only remained in the class as far as I did because I was her very least favorite student, and was very aware of this. Since I return the feelings I stayed in the class to cause her the vexation that she imposed upon me during the entirety of my required two years of a foreign language. Slowly she became less and less tolerant until the point where she would almost completely ignore my raised hand in class and occasionally glare at me openly. This having been said I feel much better to be free of the class. I wish my unnamed teacher a very happy existence without me. I'm sure she will consider it much more enjoyable now having seen the glee on her face while she signed the paper releasing me from the class.

we all live in a yellow submarine!

You know, I have a Beatles play list on Pandora and they have not once played "yellow submarine". That angers me. But that is not, in fact, the reason for this here blog on the wonderful blogger dot com run by google. Nope. Rather it is to explain what you must find a rather confusing web address. But then the pink hippo comes from a lovely yellow tee-shirt I have on which is printed a pink hippo and the words "sometimes I wish I was a hippo." It is my favorite shirt. I think its bright and cheery appearance appeals to the part of my brain that never quite matured past six. That's not a bad thing, I don't think. Because everything is just a lot nicer at six. Its much easier to be positive if you can remain somewhat immature. Plus, life's just a lot more fun that way.

Earlier in the month, I found myself watching "march of the penguins" and thinking how utterly lame it is that they cannot fly. They are birds... who cannot fly. God is just slapping them right in the face and saying "hey you, see that bluebird over there defying gravity? Guess what you cant do that. hahaha." They're the same sort of creatures as the other birds that can do exactly what they are supposed to, and yet they lack the primary characteristic of their genus. Its rather sad. Ostriches cant fly either. But they're pretty big and evil so I guess that make up for it. And they can run really fast. Apparently in some places people ride them in rodeos. I wouldn't be willing to do that. I would be scared that it would throw me off and peck me to death with its huge beak. But then again, people ride lots of things they shouldn't in rodeos. Like miniature cows and horses that didn't do anything deserving a fat man with a southern drawl jumping on their back, hitting and yelling at them, whilst the afflicted animal only tries to free itself. People have done some rather rude things to these animals. Just like God did to the penguins. Maybe someday they'll learn to fly.

goodnight blogging

Seeing how this is in fact a homework assignment I have put it off till right before I have to start doing all the other things I put off. So readers of this blog, you shall hear all of my slightly disillusioned nighttime thoughts. It makes me think of all those strange people who feel the need to post a bulletin every night saying that they are leaving whatever social network they prefer. This bothers me in a way that you could not possibly understand. They probably don't even know half of the people they just said sweet dreams too. They wont even get to hear weather or not those people had sweet dreams because they will probably not talk to them the next day, and you can never remember your dreams.

You may have noticed that I'm not speaking quite like a normal Californian. This is the result of the book I'm currently reading which is entitled Dracula, by Bram Stoker. Oh look I italicized the book title. Mrs Liddelle would be proud of me. Stoker is a cool last name. He's probably excited a lot. I wonder if that's how the first person who was named that got it. Probably not. Well that's all folks. See ya on the flip side.

yo listen up heres the story

About a little guy who lived in a blue world! No. Rather about a little girl who lives in a lame world. Apparently I was supposed to do a post about yours truly. So here it is. I live in a very small, nightlife free town. It's lame. But it's all good because, guess what! This summer I leave for one of many exciting college locations! I haven't decided yet. Mostly because I've only received one letter, and that was from Humboldt. And seeing how I happen to be an asthmatic (that's right, I'm a nerd) I don't think that having a smot poker as a roommate would be particularly good for me. Not that I've got anything against hippies, they're lovely people. But the dying thing I'm not so keen on. I don't really understand hippies. I understand that trees are good for us, but when saving them hinders your ability to uphold basic personal hygiene I think there's cause to let the census be one tree less. Plus we get paper from them. Even though nobody uses paper any more.Everything is done on the line these days. Blogs for example, this isn't in a newspaper or a magazine, in order for anything to be recognized as important it must be on the Internet. We don't even talk to real people anymore. We hop on our computer and we go to the space and we type at peoples pictures, but that's alright. "The end justifies the means". If only i could remember what the ends are.

hello and good morning good blog searching people! welcome to another exciting blog from failure English. It is now 11:33 am, and i would like to point out that I, Megan Reynolds, should still be in bed. Did you know that if you google my name a freaky body builder lady shows up. Women, I'm sorry to tell you, should never be body builders. Neither should men. but even more so for women. Not only are the steroids wholy unhealthy, not to mention they make you spaz out for no apparent reason, but the general effect is a bizare bulgy, veigny, alien like look for all who participate. And the women who do it seem to focus only on muscles that make them look extremely manish. not good. Women were not intended to develope pecks. No sir. And why, i ask you, do all of these body builders insist on focusing soley on the upper body, so as to make them look like bloated featherless chickens? And is anyone really interested in looking at these bloated alien-chickens, other than the others like them, so they can decide that they're more muscled and ridiculous than each other? the moral of the story here is: muscles are good, looking like an alien creature who has come to laugh at the peuny earthlings is bad.

parlez-vous anglais?

Today we contemplate the idea of failing a class on your native language. Currently sitting in my makeup English class, i wonder how exactly does this happen. I'm willing to purpose a suggestion given the large population of this class and others like it, this is not one persons inability to speak the language they've been speaking since they were born, but rather an inadequacy of an entire generations of Americans to grasp the point of expressing themselves through a manner of intelegent speach. Which posses the question: are the British kids failing English too? or do those fancy accents just make it all better? I think so. Because did you ever hear someone British talk and not sound smart. i certainly haven't. Any way, the point is that American high school students just cant get used to speaking or writing without droppin' an effe bomb in at least every other sentence. Not all of them granted. Sorry if I offended any of you with that statement. There are people who can express themselves without swearing. Look there isn't even one little swear in this whole blog. And my friend who happens to be sitting next to me doing this very assignement doesn't have any in hers either. So to all you students of the language youve been speaking since you were three, maybe if we tried to talk just a little more like the British we would be able to pass our English classes. Until then ill see you in makeup English