Remember Backstreet Boys?

This is just too funny!

Check this out!

It's too good!

To Stand or Not to Stand...

The other night, I was in an argument with my mother. I had told her that I no longer stand for the pledge at the beginning of school, and naturally, she was appalled.
The way I see it, if the government is taking away our constitutional freedoms, why should I stand? I mean, let's look at what this is saying to us:
I pledge allegiance to the flag
Of the United States of America.
And to the Republic for which it stands
One nation, under God, indivisible,
With libery and justice for all.
Mom asked me, "Do you agree with this?" My answer is yes. However, the way I see it, liberty means freedom. If the government is taking away the rights that were laid down in the Constitution, (the Patriot Act) such as our right to privacy (a.k.a. the government can't search or seize anything in our homes without valid evidence of anything illegal going on), or the freedom of speech (which will probably be going next, thanks to our lovely President Bush), then what is the point of standing? I hate to say it, but America, the country that we all adore, is going to hell in a handbasket.
Mother's argument to this is that since my great-grandfather fought in WW2, I need to stand to honor him and the other U.S. soldiers.
Counterpoint: there are other ways to honor the men who help keep this country free, such as keeping a shadowbox, Veteran's Day, ect. It's not that I don't support our troops, it's that I don't support how our government works. And if we aren't careful, our beloved government will turn out like the one in 1984, by George Orwell. For those of you who haven't read this book, I suggest you do.

Big Brother is always watching us.

Racism, Sexism... Blondism?

So, today in English, we were discussing prejudices against other races, other ways of thinking, and the way other people look. Ms. H. believes that it isn't right for anyone to joke about anything that relates to people being different. I agree with her... to a degree. I believe context has a lot to do with it too. Ms. H. was including blonde jokes as well. If a niece or nephew of hers says something that may be inappropriate in another situation (like the "black" jokes in "Guess Who", starring Ashton Kutcher).
Although I agree with Ms. H. I also disagree in a way. As most of you know, I am a blonde. I have never dyed my hair and I laugh at all blonde jokes. I think they're funny and people say I tell them better than any brunette would.
So you see, there is a happy-medium where these puns, comments, and jokes mesh, blending the appropriate with the inappropriate right in the middle. On the one hand, I think it is horrible to call someone a generalized nickname, reserved for people of the same-pigmented skin. On the other, I love hearing new blonde jokes. There is a time and a place for everything and I certainly hope that you have the intelligence to tell the difference about when these things are okay and when they're not.

I am SO gonna try this next time I order pizza... You should too

Make Ordering Pizza Fun!
* If using a touch-tone, press random numbers while ordering. Ask the person taking the order to stop doing that.
* Terminate the call with, "Remember, we never had this conversation."
* Tell the order taker a rival pizza place is on the other line and you're going with the lowest bidder.
* Give them your address, exclaim "Oh, just surprise me!" and hang up.
* Use those bonus words in the conversation: ROBUST FREE-SPIRITED COST-EFFICIENT UKRAINIAN PUCE.
* Tell them to put the crust on top this time.
* Sing the order to the tune of your favorite song from Metallica's "Master of Puppets" CD "Chop your pizza on a mirror!" "Master! Master! Put pepperoni on my pizza!"
* Do not name the toppings you want. Rather, spell them out.
* Put an extra edge in your voice when you say "crazy bread."
* Change your accent every three seconds.
* If they repeat the order to make sure they have it right, say "OK. That'll be $10.99; please pull up to the first window."
* Ask if you get to keep the pizza box. When they say yes, heave a sigh of relief.
* Move the mouthpiece farther and farther from your lips as you speak. When the call ends, jerk the mouthpiece back into place and scream goodbye at the top of your lungs.
* Say it's your anniversary and you'd appreciate it if the deliverer hid behind some furniture waiting for your spouse to arrive so you can surprise him/her.
* Belch directly into the mouthpiece; then tell your dog it should be ashamed.
* Order two toppings, then say, "No they'll start fighting."
* Use expletives like "Great Caesar's Ghost" and "Jesus Joseph and Mary in Tinsel Town."
* If he/she suggests anything, adamantly declare, "I shall not be swayed by your sweet words."
* Wonder aloud if you should trim those nose hairs.
* Start the conversation with "My call to (pizza place), Take 1, and...action!"
* When they repeat your order, say, "Again, with a little more OOOMPH this time."
* After ordering, say "I wonder what THIS button on the phone does." Simulate a cutoff.
* Ask if they're familiar with the term "spanking a pizza." Make up a description to go with the term. Ask that this be done to your pizza.
* Say "Kssssssssssssssht" rather loudly into the phone. Ask if they felt that.
* Teach the order taker a secret code. Use the code on all subsequent orders.
* Mumble, "There's a bomb under your seat." When asked to repeat that, say, "I said 'sauce smothered with meat."
* When they say "Will that be all?", snicker and say "We'll find out, won't we?"
* Order with a Speak-n-Spell where applicable.
* Dance all around the word "pizza". Avoid saying it at all costs. If he/she says it, say "Please don't mention that word."
* Have a movie with a good car chase playing loudly in the background. Yell "OW!" when a bullet is fired.

I got this as an email and thought it was absolutely hilarious... so I posted it of course. It's just one of those things.

Photography

So, my mom wants to be a photographer. Just last night we were sitting here, trying to come up with names for her new business. The one that we finally decided on is Remembered Moments. Here's a sample of the kind of pictures she takes... Me on the beach near where I live.

Shit Happens

It's a fact of life. You know, if you think about it, shit happens all on its own... or so certain people seem to think.
I, however, refuse to believe this lie. I think that the phrase, "shit happens," is plainly an excuse for the actions of some inhabitants of this God-forsaken town.
T.F. gets a piece of some lass's ass while I'm gone over the summer. Oh yeah, shit happens.
I fall off a horse and get kicked out of my father's house, the words "She's never coming back," reverberatingin my ears. But, you know, shit happens.
One of my best friends gets his girlfriend/fiancée pregnant and stops talking to me. Wow. Shit happens.
So many people in my life have used that excuse but it really surprised me when C.G. said it today. With an air of anger in my voice that was easily heard, I replied, "You're not the first asshole to say that to me."
All this idiom really is, is an excuse for consequences that are the result of a choice made by the user of it. Sure shit happens. On the contrary, it only happens on account of the choices we insist on making. For this reason, I can assure you that my car will never sport a bumper sticker that reads, "Shit Happens" for spouting excuses for my actions is NOT my way of living life.

Hats Off to the Smart Ones

Okay, you know you're good when you can pull off a one hundred percent on an essay with a thesis that you think is utter bull-shit.
Example A: The School's New Food: Good Or Bad?
When I wrote this paper for health class, I picked a point that I originally agreed with. However, it was only when the paper was returned with a big, fat "A" on it, that I realized that what I had written, I didn't believe for an instant.
You also know you're good when you can make valid supporting statements for a debate taking place in English class.
Example B: The debate over the thesis statement over Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech. You know, the term "Honors" is only used to make the teens in these classes sound smart. A better name for the class would be "Analyze-The-Hell-Out-Of-Any-Piece-Of-Writing-We-Give-You Class."
You further know that you're good when a teacher whom you positively DETEST (and vice versa) gives you top marks on a test you took, raising your grade by a few percents.
Final example: Today's test, third period, scored 102% and raised my grade by five percent.
As much as I like reveling in having awesome grades, I can't stand being the smart one. I mean, everyone turns to you for the answers and then you don't get anything in return. If you don't feed them the answers, then they don't like you. It's a lose lose situation here... but I do get the satisfaction of knowing that I worked for my 4.0.

Toute le Monde Faites les Erreurs Stupides Mais Beaucoup des Personnes sont Stupides

Okay, so everyone makes stupid mistakes sometimes. And all those stupid mistakes ALWAYS come back to bite you in the ass; it's Murphy's Law. Like, M.T. riding his bike in front of that car, C.G. fucking S.S, and me, kissing T.F. Everyone gets what's coming to them in the end.
Many people that make stupid mistakes (the majority actually) have an IQ of anywhere between zero and sixty. For those of you who have an IQ near this yourselves, this mentality score is NOT good. However, there are the intelligent people who knowingly make these errors, all the time (like me). What makes us think that this is a good move? Why does our conscience tell us that what we're doing is wrong, and yet we do it anyways?
Because we want to, that's why. You can't get an explanation more simple than that. When we are in a situation that could cause us pleasure or that is stressful, therefore causing you to lose your common sense, you choose what comes to mind first, not want you think is right.
If you are like me, doing these stupid things so often, you don't even think anymore, you and I both need to step back from our lives and take a closer look on what the wisest choice is.

I was right...

I say I was right about Homecoming this year, however, it didn't happen the way that I predicted. Yes, everything was different, and yet, it had nothing to do with C.G. I found myself looking hot while dancing with A.B, K.S, R.B, N.A, C.G, S.S, "Gabe", and S.S. (aka the person who is supposed to be my nemesis). The DJay was worse than last year and they played many of the same songs over again throughout the night, excluding the one that was most important to me. I requested it twice, only to find that they didn't have it. Naturally, I was upset. So I did what I do best: exercise. To keep from looking like someone who's completely insane, I grabbed T.F. and told him to come walk with me. We took a lap around the track, and in that lap, I came to find out many things, first of which, he had been broken up with earlier. Our conversation went something like this:
TF: So, what did you bring me out here for?
Me: So I wasn't walking alone because I would look insane if I did.
TF: S.K. broke up with me. It was over some stupid "He said, She said..." thing about me talking crap about her. If I'd known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have come tonight.
Me: So are you going to shove me up against a wall and make out with me, now that you're single again? (my voice is just dripping with sarcasm)(Make note. Comes into ironic play later)
TF: (yells) How shallow do you think I am to just do that? Can't you see that I'm hurting right now? Why can't people see that?
Me: Casper*, I'm sorry.
TF: So what's wrong with you tonight? Did you get broken up with, too?
Me: For your information, I haven't had a boyfriend since M.T.* and I broke up.
TF: Is that why you're so pissed off tonight?
Me: No. I know this will sound petty compared to your distress but they don't have my song. It's important to me that they play it and they don't have it.
TF: Why is it your song?
Me: It's not just mine. It's mine and someone else's.
TF: Whos? Your's and M.T.'s*?
Me: No.
TF: Who then?
Me: Crazy's*
TF: Oh my God! You're in love with Crazy*!
Me: Was. Was in love with Crazy*. His screwing S.S. is like the final slap in the face saying, "You never had a chance. You never will have a chance."
Pause.
TF: I can't go back to being myself since S.K. broke up with me. I can't be the free, single, go-lucky guy that I like to me. Just like I couldn't when we broke up.
Me: We were never going out, Casper*.
TF: Yes we were.
Me: No we weren't. You never asked. I never said yes. We weren't going out.
Pause.
Me: What really happened over the summer? You only told me so much but I want to know the whole story.
T.F. goes on to describe in great detail that someone spiked some tea with shrooms and before he knew it, he had already drunk half of the tall glass they handed him. Apparently, he had to have his stomach pumped because he O.D'ed and then found out that he had gone pretty far with a girl he had just met.
Me: What is the longest that you've stayed clean?
TF: Two months, when I was with you.
Me: So what would you do differently if you had another chance with me?
TF: Not be an asshole and try harder to make it work.
Silence.
Me: Why were you so surprised that I could dance?
TF: Because you never told me you could shake your hips like that.
Me: Because I can't. But you've seen me walk.
TF: Yeah, but that isn't "drop it like it's hot" dancing.
Somehow, we ended up kissing. He pulled back first and asked me, "Why are you doing this? Are you doing this because you miss me or because you miss Crazy*?"
Me: Because I miss you.
He kissed my neck a few times and I added, "Also because I'm cold." Then I flipped the question right back at him; "Are you doing this because you miss me or because you miss S.K.?"
TF: I miss you.
We kissed again.
TF: I feel guilty about kissing you just now.
Me: Why?
TF: I don't know if I want to do this yet. I want to be sure I'm over S.K. before I get together with you again so I don't lead you on.
Me:(with an edge) Fine. You go home and think about it and call me when you're ready to talk.
TF: Peanut*, wait. You're not pissed at me now, are you? I just don't want to lead you on like I did before.
Me: So you didn't mean it last time, then? You were leading me on? (said with a somewhat raised voice)
TF: No, it's not like that. I just don't want to hurt you-
Me:(yelling now) Just answer the fucking question, Casper*! Did you or did you not mean it last time?
TF:(sincerely) Yes, I meant it. (pause) I think the dance has ended.
Me: Well, we'd better go back in then. (I take his hand to go inside)
Then we kissed again and before I knew it, we were on the dance floor, kissing, with R.B. taking a picture. I just can't figure out why or how this happened so fast. I can't figure out what to do, what to say, nothing. I don't even know how I'm going to see him anymore. (Just for reference, T.F. and I "fooled around" last year at the end of the year. We had agreed to be "just friends" because I was leaving for six weeks over the summer. We had also agreed that when I got back, we would date. However, he fooled around with another girl over the summer and told me about it (thank God) so it never happened).
So, you tell me... sweet or sour? Should I give him another chance or should I be a cold-hearted bitch?

*real name used in actual conversation.

Homecoming 2005

This year, Homecoming is changing. For the better? For the worse? I don't think anybody really knows that it's becoming insignificant. Maybe it's changing only for me. All I know is that the majority of the girls and H.S. are going out to Midnite Expressions in the juniors section of Macy's, or to JC Penney's, to buy their two hundred dollar, Cinderella dresses, while the few nonconformists go out and buy unique clothing items that somehow mesh well with the formal attire theme. Then there are the classics; the girls and guys who dress in the classy styles to look like models and movie stars. I would classify myself into this third category. But this isn't how Homecoming has changed. No, this is how it's remained the same. Every year, Katie and I prepare together. Every year, we stay overnight at the other's houses. Every year it's the same music. Every year it's the same dark gym, guys groping girls in every corner. Homecoming is having fun with my friends and dancing to every song. Crazy and I dance the same song together every year. Only this year will be different. This year we will have a monster that goes by the name of, "C.G. screwed S.S. and knocked her up (Crazy, if this offends you, let me know and I'll delete it). Now I feel like we're worlds apart. In essence, it's the final slap in the face that tells me that I never had a chance, that I will never have a chance. I wonder what to say, I wonder what to do. You said once that I have a comprehensive voice... well, so much for that. I wonder how to help you through this but I don't know if I can. Our dance tells us over and over again that we're just friends. Close friends, but only friends. All that's happened to us within the past four years has kept the emotion raw between us.
When I met you in seventh grade, you were a great runner. We shared cross-country and track. You spit in my face and called me "Moddy." I made copies of your flier for that party at your place. Sharing choir in eighth grade; you were one of the only male singers. Still are, come to think of it. :) Rubbing your soft hair after the eighth grade water-slides. High school started and you pulled the group together. You had your girlfriends and I had my beaus. We became friends and shared numerous classes in sophomore year. I'll never forget making my first character and not listening to Mr. T. confuse us about Thoreau. You finally learned to trust me; I asked you everyday. You helped me through my summer in France and at Shane's. I figured S.S. was just another girl who wouldn't last. But now you two are getting married. You told me in an email that you loved me, then having J.M. inform me of you and her in the park (ouch!). I was so angry. Things got better and you told me you couldn't make a choice, if one of us were dying, who to save. That pissed me off, too. I hated yelling at you over the phone, through my tears; I felt so guilty. I found out that you were human, no longer a virgin, making stupid mistakes. I was angry once again. You let me cool off, never yelled back, never got angry. Once again things got better. Then she tells me she's pregnaut (major shock, literally). She plans to keep it and you've ruined your dreams of going into the military. At least she'll keep you safe. Like I said, I have no more reactions. I've run out because I don't care anymore.
This is how Homecoming's changed. We're just friends, and neither of us wants anymore, or from my point of view, anyways. I'll always be here for you to talk, to listen; whatever you need. But promise that we'll always have our dance.

False Impressions

What do you do when you are led to believe something that is apparently untrue? You are led to believe by all evidence that this thing is true. All parties involved have body language telling you, Yeah, this is what we want. This is what's going to happen. And then they turn their backs. They tell you, "No, I don't really want this. Just like S.A. didn't want me to leave that night. And N.A. isn't looking for a girlfriend. C.G. says he didn't see any reason not to screw S.S. (except the obvious to the rest of us all). People who you think you can call your friends are constantly lying to you, hiding their true appearances, their true colors, their true thoughts. So what can you do to stop this deception? Absolutely nothing. You can't force your best friend to tell you what's going on at home. You can't make that cute senior like a lower classman like yourself. However, you can change your own life. You can stop pretending to be something you're not, start telling everyone how you really feel when they ask you, instead of just "fine." You can tell people the truth, not how they want to hear it, but how it really is. The only thing stopping you is the fact that you'll hurt their feelings. And you know, maybe you will, but I can guarantee that they would rather have injured emotions than be lied to. Believe it or not, we are all hiding behind masks. Masks that show us how others want to see us. Stop putting people under false impressions and start speaking the truth. Remove the mask that's hiding the real you and maybe, just maybe, our friends will remove their shields so we can see their face, scars and all. If someone takes the first step in becoming brutally honest, slowly, we will all have our secrets uncovered and have nothing left to hide.

Daddy's Girl

Daddy’s girl, I used to be
From birth until about grade three.
I grew and grew to understand
The guy I called “Dad,” was not a man.

I learned the cause of the divorce
“Abuse,” Mom said, “was the driving force.”
As I matured, becoming a teen
My father controlled me, making me mean.

I wrote several letters, made a threat or two
Stating that if changes weren’t made, hell would ensue.
Naturally, he undermined my ability
And I reacted with added hostility.

I visited him there in Eastern Washington
Wasting the days with his daughters and son.
He read my letters, journal, and email,
Without reason, besides the fact that he’s male.

All this continued throughout the years
Only causing vows and tears.
I guaranteed I would leave when I turned eighteen
And only return with a mincing machine.

I began to think of ways to ruin his life,
Turn his kids into terrors who would cause him great strife.
My sister pitched in ideas to assist;
You see, she doesn’t like him any more than a cyst.

He threatened us for not conforming
He didn’t know that we were brainstorming.
We never put any plans into action,
But somehow I found myself in a chain reaction.

My family went horseback-riding one day
I saw myself galloping, in an out-of-body way.
My stirrups weren’t high enough
And my landing was rough.

But I raised the stirrups and remounted the horse,
It started galloping again of course.
Again I fell off, and hurt my neck and back,
I’m pretty sure I heard it crack.

Shane and Brenda gave me some meds
When Mom found out, she nearly called the feds.
My friend took me to the emergency room on Mom’s orders
Which overstepped Shane’s set borders.

He came to take me home after I was x-rayed
But Mom was coming to get me, so I stayed.
He came back with the parenting plan
So I was forced to return home with the man.

As I packed my bags that night,
Brenda told my mom that I was a fright.
“All she does is make the rest of us miserable.”
Apparently I am quite unstable.

So I wrote another letter
This time, offering a visitation that would work better.
He still hasn’t replied to what I said
Probably remembering that night with dread.

Overall, I like staying here more.
The only bad thing is my unseen siblings, whom I adore.
I will always love the father that was mine.
However, his actions towards me are not so divine.