top hats and evening gowns

Earlier in the week I took a trip to Starbucks, as I do quite frequently, to get a wonderful, over sized hot beverage to satisfy my caffeine addiction. As I walked in the door I noticed two very elegant people sitting at a table, sipping coffee, and not talking. Instead they were both on their blackberries. The blackberries were not of, course, the first thing I noticed. Rather that the statuesque older man was wearing a top hat. His partner, a woman with a classic nineteen twenties bob and a matching cellular device, was wearing an evening gown. My first idea was that these people were being paid by the multi-billion dollar coffee company as a promo. But on the cashiers inform that this was not true my mind began to wander to more exciting reasons for their presence. I'm sure you never guessed that Santee is not exactly known for its population of cultured, elegant people. In fact, its quite the opposite. I wish we had more excitingly dressed people in this the city where old people come to die. Ankle long baggy shorts on bald white dudes just aren't really as appealing as the top hat. Someone should definitely start that fad up again. Top hats are pretty amazing really. Its like they scream "hey I'm a smart guy dang it!" Maybe I would look smart in a top hat. Or at least severely deranged. There's a girl who goes to the lovely West Hills High School who I saw once sporting an outfit you usually wouldn't see except on a British man from 1910. While this was definitely a bit off, I must commend her for her attempt to venture back to a time in which fashion was actually art. The mini skirt is somehow not as aesthetically pleasing as a long flowy evening gown.

everything annoying me annoys me

Today, since I was doing some lovely self evaluating, which happens often with my dear friend Chelsey, I realized one of my fundamental qualities. This is the fact that I am annoyed by a rather lot of things. This is one of the reasons I'm able to belt out a rant at any moment, somewhat like this one. But really people, the list goes on and on. From eating noises to busy work. If you think of something, I can probably think of a way it annoys me. Perhaps even just your attempt to think annoys me. I don't know. But this realization made me quite literally say "my being annoyed all the time annoys me." This seems redundant but what I was really thinking is that I wish that I could be a more tolerant person, ya know. so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to do my very best to not get annoyed by all the random little things that vex me. Just focus on the big things. you know, like the noise my moms heels make on the hard wood flooring. I mean its not as if I'm not annoying myself. Why, if I met me I would hate me. Wouldn't you.

Tuesday afternoon leaves me stomping angrily across my hallway, sneezing and muttering "drugs" (not the illegal kind, the kind that keep me alive). My boyfriend has left me alone, today, to contemplate my narcissism. Really I am a wonderful narcissist. You see whenever I have these lovely book ideas, which are more like sentences out of possible books, the main character seems to be me, someone greatly resembling me, or perhaps just with very similar characteristics. I find this to be a rather severe problem, since narcissism is in no way an appealing trait. But unfortunately prominent in teenage girls, I've noticed. We seem to be either extremely self involved or lacking in any form of self esteem. Or extremely self involved, yet acting as if we have low self esteem, so as not to be thought of as self righteous. Of course most people wouldn't use those exact words. I think stuck up is the word I was looking for. Now, you see, normally on such a lovely rainy afternoon I would be out and about with my quadruplet. However on this lovely day I have been ditched. Ditched for homework. Can you imagine? I think I am vastly more entertaining than homework (there's that narcissism again). I suppose some people find that sort of thing important, but I never did. Since C's proved to be quite adequate to get me into college, I think, why put in effort in subjects that are not at all pertinent to your career. This has been a rainy, angsty afternoon with a self involved teenage girl. Thank you for reading :)

the realization of your inner nerdy

As you may well be aware, my viewers (seeing as my viewers consists only of the teacher who must grade this blog and also track my absences in order to fail me if this be necessary) I was absent on Monday, the 2nd of February. On this day, which was filled with both the wonders of staying home and excesses of sleep, and the horrors of all that comes with being sick, I found my self, because of a lack of even the worst of daytime TV, watching Lord of the Rings. I also found myself quite enjoying this movie, which I had not seen since I was but a wee lass. And this causes me to wonder if I am indeed a ginormous dorkfish. Perhaps has this movie been so widely accepted by the public so that it has become a family film instead of a movie for the pursuers of dungeons and dragons to watch whilst role playing in the non kinky way. But again, this does not save my high school repertoire, because, my dear reader, I have indeed read the books. All of them. Including the prequel the hobbit. So today I shall freely be admitted into the world of the geek and gladly accept this, because life's more fun that way. nuf said home slice. In the immortal words of Kip of Napoleon Dynamite, "peace out"

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.