100 Things.

Christmas has come and gone, and so have my Grandparents, so I should be going back to my erratic blogging schedule.


And here is my Christmas present to you:

One Hundred Things You Probably Don't Know About Adrienne Louise Pressnall:

1. Vietnamese is my least favorite language to hear spoken.
2. I own a studded belt, and I wear it a lot.
3. I have a pet peeve about people making slimy sounds with their mouths.
4. I used to think Apple Computers were stupid, because they didn't play normal computer games.
(I was 10.)
5. I went through a major Green Day phase. I still have a lot of random Green Day knowledge
lodged in my brain like: Trè Cool's real name is Frank Edwin Wright III. I don't like to talk
about it. It's like colon cancer: you just don't talk about it.
6. I own a Panic! At The Disco, and a Green Day t-shirt, and I wear them a lot to sleep.
7. I don't eat any type of seafood.
8. I really like avocados.
9. I tell my brother all my problems, and my friend's problems. I've probably told him about you.
10.I don't wear shirts with skulls on them.
11.My favorite color is emerald green, but I think real emeralds are tacky in most jewelry.
12.I think Tim Burton is attractive. I've failed to figure out why.
I am personally, completely in love with Jim Halpert. Not John Krazinski, but the character he
plays. The closer you are to being like Jim, the more I love you.
13.I've been to 14 different countries, and 15 different states.
14.I'm the only person in the history of Oxala (Pearce's literary magazine) to score a perfect 30 on
my writing.
15.I actually buy most of my music.
16.I own Juicy Couture perfume.
17.I didn't know the term 'the shit' had a positive connotation until like, 8th grade.
18.I really like the movie Corpse Bride.
19.I don't like Kohl's because each and every time I go there, and I try on clothes, so old lady
walks in on me. I am really not kidding. I never, ever go to Kohl's because of this.
20.I wish I played saxophone.
21.I've recently decided I want to be a writer when I get older.
22.I know how to knit.
23.My favorite words are as follows: hypothetically, theoretically, superfluous, nonsense, negatory,
exasperation, scandalous, horrendous, egregious, erroneous, gregarious, dilemma, and folderol.
24.In 4th grade my absolute favorite movie ever was: Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace.
25.I can't draw things with legs.
26.I'm pretty good at painting.
27.I took piano for eight years.
28.I can eat onions by themselves, unless they're really, really strong.
29.I have an unjustifiable grudge against North Dakota.
30.I can't stand white chocolate.
31.I don't like Tootsie Rolls.
32.Easter is my favorite holiday.
33.If I could pick any nationality to be, it would either be Russian or Brazilian.
34.I've thought about dyeing my hair brown. Luckily I got that idea out of my head.
35.I spend at least 20 minutes on my makeup ever day.
36.I always spell interest like 'intrest', and exist like 'exsist'.
37.I don't know anything about guitars or how to play them.
38.I seem to find myself going to public places in ridiculous clothing. I don't usually plan it. It just
sort of happens.
39.I really hate it when people spell 'yeah' like 'yea'.
40.In seventh grade, I would end all my sentences on AIM with double punctuation. Like: Are you
going school tomorrow??
41.I have 82 Beanie Babies.
42.I once sprayed “Goof Off” (paint remover) on my Mom's tomatoes, and she got really mad at
me, and then started to cry.
43.I like the way the Library smells.
44.I don't like cards from card stores.
45.I don't like Pizza Hut.
46.I have a lot of knives in random places in my room. For no real reason.
47.I watch a lot of Podcasts about different hairstyles.
48.I'm right-handed, but I do everything else on my left side better.
49.I want a really big, extravagant, frilly wedding.
50.I really hate the color orange. Especially the Crayola marker orange.
51.I can be really loud and obnoxious, especially when I'm tired.
52.I'm bad at saving money.
53.I like books about bitchy girls who have unfathomable amounts of money, and do ridiculous
things.
54.I have a strong moral fiber.
55.My sweat is more acidic than most people's.
56.George Winston is my favorite piano player. Seriously, he's amazing and writes all of his own
music.
57.I like anything with lace.
58.I'm very particular about the way our Christmas tree looks. Handmade and novelty ornaments
are not allowed.
59.I can't tie bows the normal way. I have to use “bunny ears”.
60.I hate Celine Dion's voice.
61.I like getting my nails done.
62.I'm awkward when it comes to talking to superiors.
63.I hate asking for help from people.
64.I have this candle that's strawberry shortcake flavored, and it smells way too sweet, and when
even when your two feet away from it and its unlit, it's sickening saccharine odor gives you a
headache. I don't know why I haven't moved it out of my room yet.
65.I think it'd be really cool to drive an out-of-commission ambulance.
66.When I was nine, I wanted to live in a three story house, and own six Great Danes.
67.I get really defensive when people say things like “I can name all of the Transformers:
Bumblebee, Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Jazz, Ironhide, Bonecrusher, Scorpinok, Megatron,
Starscream, Barricade, and Soundwave.” Or people that didn't know what Transformers were
before the movie came out.
68.I kind of wish I was a vampire.
69.I use the thesaurus all the time.
70.I respect good accordion players.
71.I like watching glass blowers.
72.I'm a little bit incompetent at using Microsoft computers.
73.I pay a lot of attention to people's teeth. If I've talked to you for longer than 30 seconds, I'll
always remember what your teeth look like, and be able to describe them.
74.My favorite Disney movie is “101 Dalmatians”. It's also one of my favorite books. (It was a
book before it was a movie, obviously.)
75.“Alice In Wonderland” is my favorite fairy-tale-type book.
76.I like the way saxophone reeds taste, but not the way clarinet reeds taste.
77.I've taken my lunch to school every day since the beginning of third grade.
78.On long vacations, or during the summer, I see how long I can go without changing my shirt.
79.I don't listen to bands that don't have at least one of the following: piano, synthesizer, violin, or cello.
80.I have a lot nick names for my brother: Shorty, Chico, Superman, Wessie, Loserface, Dream
Crusher, Sweetheart, Darling, etc.
81.I like handheld pencil sharpeners.
82.When I was eight, we went to Grapevine Mills Mall, and we were going to go to the Rainforest
Cafe, and I saw the robot crocodile outside of the restaurant, and was so terrified of it, that I
actually ran away into Forever 21, and hid in the store and cried for an hour. Eventually, my
Mom found me, calmed me down, and somehow, got me into the cafe. From then on, I've been
pretty freaked out by that thing.
83.I can eat hoards of Oreos.
84.My normal voice has melded with my sarcastic voice, so sometimes I don't even know if I 'm
being sarcastic or not.
85.I want to go to Singapore.
86.If I could have one super power, it would be to stop time.
87.I've recently discovered the usefulness of liquid eyeliner.
88.My name anagrams to: Resend all rain pens.
89.Winter is my favorite season.
90.I've only been to emergency room once. (Little kid + running + sharp pencil = sharp lead lodged
in my eye.)
91.I love sparkly things.
92.Today, I only left my room three times. I was watching “The Office: Season 3” and my goal
was to finish the whole thing in one day. But then I started this.
93.I'm simultaneously disgusted by, and infatuated with, The 80's.
94.I like sunflowers and Gerber daisies.
95.Looking up at tall buildings gives me a sick feeling in my stomach.
96.I have freckles on my knees.
97.I'm very sensitive to most extreme mint/cinnamon gum and mints.
98.I get really good ideas that I'm not very good at implementing, and then end up with a lot of half
finished projects.
99.I really hate this: <3 and this: XD.
100. I can think of a hundred things people don't know about me.

Things I Shouldn't Have Said #3

Mr. Blankenship: So, according to your shirt, you love Optimus Prime. Do you really love Optimus Prime?
Me: Uh... YEAH.
Mr. B: Hmm... really...
Me: Do you love Optimus Prime?
Mr. B: No, not really.
Me: Who is your favorite Transformer then?
Mr. B: Well, there aren't any girl Transformers, so I guess I don't have a favorite.
Me: Yeah there is!
Mr. B: Well, I don't remember her name.
Me: It's Overide.
Mr. B: Okay, yeah well, there's only ONE. She must really get around. I mean all those guy Transformers... and you know...

(Yes, that was a coversation about Robot Sex that I had with my metrosexual band director.)

"COACH D, I'M DYING INSIDE BECAUSE OF ALL THOSE UNCAPITALIZED TITLES! PLEASE, THINGS LIKE THAT ANNOY ME TO A NEW LEVEL!"

Never Kill Love

As expected, I didn't go to school today. It's just a tad hard to pay attention when your ribs feel like they're being stabbed from the inside with a shovel. However, it's incredibly boring here. Not that I expected it would be a bucket of thrills, or anything, I just miss talking to people. I mean, occasionally Caitlan or Sarah will text me, but that hardly quantifies as talking to them. Then after school, my Mom gets all mad at me for calling my friends. It's not like it hurts to talk. Well... yes it does. But not as bad as it hurts to cough. So, this morning, after I woke up, I spent about 2 hours coming up with names for awful bands. I pretty much decided that you can make a terrible screamo band name from just a few specific nouns and adjectives.

Let me explain:

Pick your first initial:

A-Severed
B-Young
C-Forever
D-My
E-Forced
F-Always
G-Never
H-Dead
I-Decayed
J-Your
K-Because
L- Decadent
M-Vicious
N-Buried
O-Broken
P-Accursed
Q- Fucking
R-Silent
S-Unprovoked
T-Condemned
U-Duplicated
V- Scarred
W-Serrated
X-Malignant
Y-Forgotten
Z-Remembered


Now pick the first letter of your last name:

A-Glass
B-Guns
C-Swords
D- Daggers
E- Chains
F- Hounds
G-Spikes
H- Axes
I-Birds
J-Hawks
K- Wolves
L-Bottles
M-Death
N-Zombies
O-Vampires
P-Hearts
Q-Crime
R-Love
S-Scars
T-Time
U-Knowledge
V- Novembers
W- Days
X-Vessels
Y-Disasters
Z-Apocalypse


Now pick the last letter of your last name:

A- Die
B- Live
C-Lie
D-Sink
E-Betray
F-Burn
G-Bleed
H-Destroy
I-Lie Awake
J- Fall Asleep
K-Remain
L- Collide
M-Slaughter
N-Kill
O-Regret
P- Fall
Q- Lie
R- Devour
S- Collapse
T-Feel
U- Rot
V-Degenerate
W-Annihilate
X-Massacre
Y-Sabotage
Z- Perish

Now, take those words, rearrange them, change the tenses, make them plural or singular, add conjunctions and articles, and there you have it! Your very own horrendous screamo band name. Mine is “Severed Hearts Collide”. Or, if you don't like your initials, just choose any word from the three lists.


Hmm. Well...

I'm going to go do the math homework that was due Monday.

An Unexpected Unpleasantry.

Well, I've officially had the most awful day ever.

It started out nice and early this morning at 5:00 a.m. I had got up that morning with the intent of getting bagels for the clarinet section (because I conveniently missed sectionals last time). After my shower, I was getting dressed, when I started to cough. If you've been round me recently, you know that my “coughs” are more like thunderous bellows in which you can hear the crackle of mucus that has lined my lungs. It's been going on like this for quite a while, so when my cough explosion started, it wasn't very out of the ordinary. Until, that is, I felt a big pop near the bottom of my rib cage. It felt like I had coughed so hard that something had moved. This is when the fun starts. After buckling over in pain, I called for my Mom to help me back into bed. I explained my dilemma, and continued to writhe in pain. This went on for a good ten minutes, until my Mom gave me some Advil. She then arranged for me to see Dr. Myint. With a lot of luck, I was able to fall asleep. When I woke up, my Mom helped me get out of my bed and into the car. (It's ridiculously painful to move my torso muscles, or cough). When we arrived at Dr. Myint's office, I had the pleasure of sitting in his waiting room. Remember, I'm still in excruciating pain, and every time I cough, I twitch, and whimper, and everybody looks at me as though I have the plague. I then was half-carried into the examination room by my Mom, and weakly laid down on the table. After the nurse checked my temperature, and pulse, Dr. Myint came in and proceeded to check my lungs, liver, kidney, etc. He obviously noticed my flinching and wincing when he tested my ribs, but when me pushed on my kidneys, it caused an unexpected sharp, stabbing pain. But since it was clear the pain was centered around my ribs, he kind of ignored that. He told my Mom and I that we should go get an x-ray, and go from there. My Mom filled out what seemed to be an eternity of paperwork, and then we were on our way to get my x-ray. While in the waiting room for the x-ray at the hospital, I overheard a rather loud conversation about Microsoft computers:

Technologically Incompetent Secretary (TIS): Hey, David, I'm thinking about upgrading my computer. What do you think is the best one to get.?
Conveniently Present Guy Who Happens To Be A Computer Salesman (David): Well, that depends on if you're running Vista or XP.
TIS: Uh... I think my computer is something called Windows 98 or something.
David: Oh, well, then you're going to want to upgrade.
TIS: Upgrade what?
David: Your Operating System
TIS: What's that?
David: It's the main.. thing on your computer. You know when you start up your computer, and it says Windows 98, or whatever?
TIS: So, if I upgrade my Operating System, will my computer run better.
David: Yes, theoretically.
TIS: Ohhh. Okay. Well, what should I upgrade to?
David: That depends on whether you're using your computer for business, or just as a home computer. If you're using if for business, I would go with XP, because they haven't made many programs supported by Vista yet. But if you're just using it for a home computer, I would go ahead and buy Vista, because there isn't a huge difference between Vista and XP aside from the software.
TIS: Well, I guess I'll be using it at home. That means I have to get XP right?
David: ...No, I said you should get Vista.
TIS: Oh... Can you add extra memory to Vista?
David: ... Well, you can add extra memory to your computer.
TIS: Okay, good. Is Vista really like the commercials? Do I have to “authorize” everything?
David: Well, you can change the settings so that it doesn't if you don't want it to.
TIS: So like, if I go to Myspace, and I tell it to authorize, will it stay authorized, or do I have to authorize it every time?
David: Uh, no. It only asks you to authorize things on your system, like if you put in a CD, it asks if you want to install it.
TIS: Well, I wouldn't have put it in there in the first place if I didn't want to install it.
David: Well, there could be other options, like it could be a music CD, or a blank CD, and it would ask you what you want to do with it.
TIS: Okay... So, how much would a computer that would work well for me be?
David: If you really want a nice upgradable computer that will run well, I'd say about between $800 and $1000 dollars.
TIS: WHAT?!?!?
David: Well, I mean you can get a lower end computer that doesn't run as well for about $400.
TIS: But I can add memory right?
David: Sure.. but...
TIS: Is it easy to add memory?
David: Um, kind of...?

Then my name was called to go get my x-ray.

That was possibly the most aggravating conversation to listen to. That stupid secretary kept asking about adding memory, as if that would somehow help her, and make her look smarter. And that poor man. He was just trying to help this lady be knowledgeable about computers, and he got trapped in this monstrosity of a dialogue.

Anyway,

I changed out of my clothes into a glamourous hospital gown, and stepped into a scary x-ray room. Larry, the guy doing my x-ray, seemed really irritable, and persnickety, and talked to me as if I was senile. After the x-ray, we were led to a room with a phone, which the radiologist was supposed to call when he got the results. My Mom answered the phone, and the radiologist told my Mom the most annoying results ever: Nothing. My x-ray was clean.

I was mad at this point. I had to go through all this pain for... nothing? I mean, I figured that it would at least be fractured or displaced or SOMETHING. But no, now it just looks like I'm making the whole thing up.

So I'm convinced all my ribs are broken, and the x-ray didn't pick it up. (Rib cage things do have a hard time of being recognized.)

In the mean time, I'm supposed to take a shitload of painkillers, and keep heat on my side.

Which leaves me here, ranting about the worst day ever.

It's just a bunch of malarkey if you ask me.

A Little Shot of Glee.

Well, it's finally happened:

I got my coveted MacBook.

I don't really think words can express how excited I am. Seriously, this thing is amazing. And it's mine. All mine.

This is quite possibly the event of my life time.

Things I Shouldn't Have Said #2

"God! I hate green Nyquil! It tastes like witch vomit or something."

"World AIDS Day is the same day as All-Region. Coincidence? I think not."

"Let's play a game. It's called: FIND THE MOST DISPROPORTIONATE PERSON IN THE ROOM!"

"Ms. Lynch! Since we have TRANSition metals as our topic for our project, can we dress up as TRANSformers? That way I can have an excuse to buy the Optimus Prime Voice Changer Mask other than the fact that I just really want one."

"I'm actually looking forward to my AP World History Project because I'm going to have one badass power point."

"See, I'm a slacker, and my parents reward me for things I should and could be doing already. You are an overacheiver, and thus your parents expect you do to well, and you don't get rewarded. So, underachieving is the way to rewards."

"Wes! You know what would be cool? A bracelet made of human hair!"

Thnxgv

Well, it has been a quiet weekend so far, and I'm rather enjoying it. Except for the fact that I can't go anywhere, or talk to anyone. I was, however, allowed to go with my Mom to get my hair cut. It's basically the same haircut I've been getting since the end of eighth grade, except my bangs are shorter. So, nothing exciting there.

Today, the supposed "highlight" of my weekend went intriguingly:

As you can guess, I am terrible at meeting people. It's probably because I don’t really want to meet new people. I’m quite fine with the people I know now. Obviously, I occasionally soften my robot soul and let people get to know me, because otherwise I would probably be miserable, and have social skills equivalent to those of a slab of concrete. Another thing that makes meeting people hard for me is that if I don’t like someone, it’s incredibly hard for me to hide my disapproval; my words coat themselves with a thick layer of bitter sarcasm. I also don’t relate to people well: I don’t watch movies or television, I listen to music that isn’t on the radio, and for the last few months, marching band took up the majority of my life. So, when I walked into my cousins house, and saw all the unfamiliar faces, I collapsed inside. It meant I would have to awkwardly try to be nice, and friendly to people I don’t know and probably don’t like.
Luckily for me, I have Wes. In situations like this, he is a lifesaver. I can stick with him, and we can avoid human contact together. Generally, when we go to places and we don’t know anyone, and it’s expected that we “hang out with the other kids”, we just sit in the corner and discuss how much and why we don’t like anybody.
Our cousins, Sarah and Joe, are the anti-Adrienne and Wesley. Everything we are, they completely counteract. We have exactly nothing in common. Thus, we usually avoid them, and fulfill our unspoken pact. This time, all the kids from Sarah and Joe’s step-father’s family were there, and Wes and I had never met them. We exchanged exasperated glances, and continued to follow our parents. Parents are the ultimate scapegoat. You can follow them around, and discourage people from talking to you. We did this for a about thirty minutes, until it was time to eat. We were then informed that we had to eat at the “kids table” (because you know, I’m going to spill mashed potatoes all over the carpet). Wesley and I stuck by each other, and sat at the furthest end of the table. After we awkwardly introduced ourselves, the other “kids” at the table (the youngest was eleven), started a conversation about “Live Free and Die Hard”, a movie I will probably never see. Wesley and I stayed away from the conversation. When we had finished eating, I went to go complain at my Dad, to see if he would leave early. He pulled the whole “sometimes it’s not about you” scheme, so I went back upstairs to wait it out. (On a totally unrelated topic that I can’t work into my story: There was this lady with the NASTIEST FEET EVER. I’m serious, it looked like they were dead, and slowly rotting away. They were all grey, and large amounts of skin flaking off, and there were random pockets of ... I don’t know, and one dangerously untrimmed toenail that looked like mice had tried to eat it, but then died trying, and when you walked within ten feet of her, she smelled like corpse [or what I assume corpse smells like] and she was fangoriously fat, and had enormous kankles) Then, in an unexpected turn of events, this girl about my age, named Suzette, I believe, came up to me, did a backbend, and asked me to sit on her stomach. This doesn’t happen to me often (although you would think otherwise), so I didn’t really know how to handle it. I declined her offer, and went to go play Ping-Pong with my Mom. Suzette came up to me and the following conversation took place:

Suzette (S): Hey! Let’s go on a walk!
Me: ... Okay?
S (While on our walk): I love the cold weather! It’s so much better than hot weather. I mean, you can still be hot and naked, but you can always put more layers on in the cold. But I like hot weather because I love swimming!
Me: Uh... yeah. Cold weather is pretty neat.
S: Don’t tell anyone but I had a crush on my cousin when I was younger. Only you and Wesley know.
Me: Oh. Heh.
S: Joe is so mean; One time we had this party and it was really late, and we decided to wait till the morning to clean up, and then Joe and his family make an unexpected visit to our house, and he was all like “I can’t believe how messy this place is.” And we have seven animals!
Me: Heh... he’s pretty obnoxious.
S: AHHAHHAHAHHHA! I KNOW! Your brother is so nice though! You are so lucky!
Me: I know. I don’t thank him enough.
S: I REALLY need new Pomegranate Body Spray! It smells SO good.
Me: Yeah. I like pomegranates.
S: I am totally boy-crazy. See, look at my hand. I wrote all the guys names I like on it. I would have written more, but my Dad took the Sharpie away.
Me: Yeah. I don’t really do things like that.
S: I name a monkey after each guy I like!
Me: What?
S: HAHHAHAHHAHHA! You are the first person to assume that!
Me: Good...?

I swear that is exactly the conversation we had. I’m not making any part of it up.

It reminded me of why I don’t like people, and why I don’t try to make new friends. Because people like her exist.


But in spirit of Thanksgiving (or Thnxgv, if you’re cool), I am thankful for the following:

Jesus.
My fantastic little brother, Wesley.
My parents.
My friends who like me despite my overbearing cynicism and my general dislike of... almost everything everything, and give me a reason to stay alive.
Transformers.
Moccasins.
Harry Potter.
Apple Computer products.
Not being a poor African child with AIDS living on grass ground up with dirt.
Skinny jeans.
Pointy shoes.
The Strokes.
Geraldo at Large.
Mustaches.
Pillows.
Cats.
Charcoal pencils.
Mr. Longo.
Pesto.
Piano.
Showers.
Not living in Nebraska.
Mr. Brumbaugh.
Mall cops.
Nyquil (NOT THE GREEN KIND!)
You. You read this, and for that, I love you. But I probably loved you before that.

Unnecessary Colons

So here's the deal: I'm grounded from my life till I get my grades back up. However, my Mom is terribly enthralled with a phone call as of now, and I'm sneaking in a blog post, because I feel like I have an obligation to do so. I mean, I haven't done this in like... 2 months... or something. I'm not going to go check.

Anyhoodle, so much has happened since then. However, rather than giving you a three page, pointless rant about each major event that happened, I'm just going to sum it up in one word, and let you use your imagination to figure out why.

Homecoming : Exasperating.
First World History Test : Mind-Boggling
Marching Band : Eleven
School In General : Life-Consuming
PSAT: Fun (I really like correcting people's grammar.)

Hmm. I thought my life consisted of more than that. I guess not.

I suppose my point is: I want to quit my life and start anew as a wandering vagrant. My abundance of problems would disintegrate. All I would have to worry about is where I would sleep and who I would eat. (I'm assuming most vagrants are mildly cannibalistic.) I could yell belligerently at passer-bys and do my laundry in whiskey.

I don't know where this is going so: (by the way, the theme of this blog is Unnecessary Colons, if you couldn't already tell)

My Least Favorite Reality-Type Game Shows:

5. Survivor

I remember when the first Survivor came out, and started this Reality Show Revolution. Survivor is what I think really started it all. Now, in the beginning, it was a novel idea; people living out in the jungle simply trying to survive (and do random tasks and what-not.) But after many years, this idea has grown tired, and boring. We've come to Survivor: China. I mean, China's not that bad. It's not as isolated and deslolate sounding as like, a lonely island. Soon they'll run out of foreign places and have to start Survivor: North Dakota, or Survivor: New Jersey. (Which, respectfully, probably have their own unique challenges.) However, I think Survivor is one of those shows that just need to end. No one will miss it. It just needs to be let go. Like an old faithful dog in pain with broken back, just let it go.

4. America's Got Talent

There are a lot of reasons this show doesn't work. I wish it did, however. There are a lot of random talented people that have no real place to show off their obscure abilities. However, it's very hard to judge singing against ventriloquist-ing. Or flute playing against interpretive dancing. It's like (for the lack of a better similie) comparing apples to oranges. It's just not plausible. I think the writers of the show realized that, and so they did what all shows do when they find themselves in a corner: ask America. As if Americans know the difference between good and bad. The majority of us voted for Bush... twice! Why on earth would you ask the masses what is best? As for AGT's panel of judges, I think they basically just called all the out of work B-List celebrities, and came up with Sharon Osbourne and David Hasslehoff. Why exactly would they be good judges of anything? Sharon married Ozzy Osbourne, who... doesn't even need an explanation! And The Hoff is an angry drunk who yells at his daughter and eats hamburgers of the floor. Why should these people even be on television? Once again, the writers realized this, and called on the second biggest Reality-Game-Show cliche: A random critical British guy.
That way it looks like it's mildly accurate. To top it all off, we grab Jerry Springer, famous for shows with cheating transvestites, and have him host this monstrosity of a show. Sounds like a keeper.

3. elimiDATE

This show is so very improbable. Let's start with the premise: An incredibly attractive guy chooses his date from 5 skank-faces. First of all, how many handsome and charming single guys are out there? Theoretically, this man should not need elimiDATE in the first place, unless he has some horrible flaw, like AIDS or he's dangerously racist or something. Now, this horribly flawed attractive young man has the privilege of choosing from 5 ho-bags. I'm not really exaggerating this one. These are girls who are willing to make out with people before they know their name. That's not really socially acceptable, or sanitary for that matter. After they've made their acquaintances, they are then placed in an awkward situation. For example, one time they went to this sushi restaurant that served it's food on naked people. Like, the person was the plate, because nothing says "I want to get to know you" than eating raw fish off of an unclothed person. Then the guy chooses three girls to go the next "round." This continues till he's found his "perfect match." I'm assuming most people don't talk to each other after they're done with the show, but assuming the relationship does work out, how would you be able to tell people you met on a sleazy game show? "Hey Mom, meet my girlfriend... Shindelleia... she was the skankiest out of five girls." I mean, it's just so illegitimate.

2. Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?

The two main things that make this show unbearable (or would make any show unbearable for that matter) are:

Stupid Americans

and

Jeff Foxworthy

Do I need to explain?


1. The Next Great American Band

This is by far the worst show on television, ever. Worse than "Two And A Half Men" and "According to Jim" combined.

It defies everything I stand for. They take crappy bands, tell America that this is what good music should sound like, and have America vote. Like I said, America shouldn't do voting of any kind! Especially not for music. The general masses think that Britney Spear's "Gimme More" is good. And it is very clearly not.

I think this show would bother me less if they did it fairly. You know, like, actually taking the best bands and having real music judges. But no, they take random bands from each genre, and try to pretend like it's possible to compare them to each other. Music is so subjective, you can't tell me The Strokes are bad because you don't like them, just like I technically can't say My Chemical Romance is bad. You can't say that a screamo band called "Light of Doom" is better than a country band called "Cliff Wagner and the Old #7". You just can't. They aren't on the same scale. It's each person's individual opinion! YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT'S GOOD AND WHAT'S BAD! IT'S MY DECISION. THIS IS AMERICA, KIDS. I GET TO MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS. (Except voting for stupid reality shows.)


Okay. Well.

Thanks to all both of you that read this. It means a lot to me.

School Sucks. And So Does Zac Efron.

This whole "school" thing is not working out for Miss Pressnall.


This weekend I had the following for homework:

Complete upside down drawing
Define English vocabulary
Start Cold Sassy essay
Practice All Region Music
Type up a chemistry lab
Do chemistry book work
Make a chart for Chinese dynasties
Make a chart for Indian dynasties
Make a chart for 5 different religions
Finish S.C.R.I.P.T.E.D chart.
Finish civilization web map
Take notes on India
Make a organizational note thing on India
Write questions on India
Make a French advertisement
Study parent functions
Finish graphing math worksheet.

This may or may not sound like a lot. But let me add this: I was at marching till 1:30 a.m. on Friday, so obviously, I didn't get anything done. Sarah's birthday party took up Saturday. (Which was quite fun, actually.) And on Sunday, I had church, and I had to do a Drive Time. (Which sucked. I am a horrible driver.) So, basically, I had 6 hours to finish all of that homework.

Yeah.

I don't think I can do all this.

Anyway,

Today has not been a good day. It's been one of the gloomy days where nothing seems to make you happy. And you wake up at 4:30 to do homework, but then give up because you're way too tired. And it's pouring down rain outside, and messes up you're already bedraggled looking hair. And you get to school and remembered 497529034857239485 things you forgot to do over the weekend, and you look like a slacker to your teachers, because you have like 8 missing assignments in their class. And they look at you all dissapointedly. Then you notice the shirt you wore has a gigantic stain on the back, that no one's bothered to tell you about. And you have a substitute for the 12th day in a row in art. And Ms. Coupe (the sub) keeps talking at you to do things that you know won't matter in three minutes. Then you come home, and remember the massive amount of homework you have, but you decided to blog, because...

I don't know why.

SUBJECT CHANGE!

(See how I sprung that upon you? I bet you didn't see THAT one coming.)

Dear Zac Efron,


I sure have been seeing you a lot lately. Seems like everywhere I go, there is some vague hint of Eau De Efron. (Figuratively speaking.) I mean, you have your own doll fashioned after you. And according to IMDb, you've got an yet another High School Musical movie coming out. So, you seem pretty successful. So what's my problem?

Why?

Why are you famous?

You aren't attractive:












Ew. Not cool. You look like you get up every morning and put on your perfectly toussled hair. It's like a hat. A hair-hat.
Also, your eyes are awkwardly small compared to the rest of your face. And your eyebrows are really thick.

You are also a terrible actor. Have you seen High School Musical? Did you forget how awful the entire thing was? I don't think something of that magnitude can really escape your memory.

Also, you're on every single cover of those terrible magazines for eleven year old girls, whose Mom's approve of the non-threatening teen stars on the covers. Like this one:












As you can see, most of the captions involve Disney channel stars, who have really only one claim to fame, and a lot of tween fangirls. I don't know about these Jonas Brothers characters. But I'm pretty sure they're just like you, Mr. Efron. And I'm pretty sure they don't actually ever write new magazines. They basically just take the cover, move the pictures around, throw some new captions under there, and rearrange the pages. Then call it something awesome like "Tiger Beat", and you've got yourself a non-threatening, tween, mostly Zac Efron oriented magazine!

My point is, Mr. E, is that you have no credibility. None. I mean, I take Pete Wentz more seriously than you.

I predict in the next couple of years, you'll do something stupid, like, date Lindsay Lohan or something, and get addicted to heroine, and spend the next few years in rehab and social obscurity.

In conclusion,

Enjoy this while it lasts, Zacster.

Adrienne's First Week of Being A Sophomore by the Numbers

Number of:


Times I said "I can't believe I'm not a freshman": 12

Times I've said "STUPID FRESHMAN!": 40

Days I've had a substitute in art: 2

Weird things I've said to Mr. Blankenship: 4

Days I wished I weren't in marching band: 5

Rants Coach D has been on: 15

"Catz" I've drawn: 10 (Catz are like Bratz, except, catlike)

Complements I've receieved from Coach D: 2

Notes I've left in Chemistry Drawer #45: 1

Times I've talked to Graham: 0 :[

Times Nancy, Sarah and I have gone Tom-Hunting: 6

Stupid cookout things I've had to go to: 1

Times Mr. Halliday yelled at me for not having my PEARCE LANYARD!: 3

Days I came home, and all I did was homework: 5

Times I've seen Tai: 3 (even though he's graduated...)

Times Mr. Blassingame greeted me: 2

People at my lunch table: 4

Math concepts I didn't understand: 3

Shirts with cats on them that I've worn: 2

I forgot to bring shoes to change into after marching: 1

Days I woke up at 5:00: 5

Times I had a band song stuck in my head: 3

Sexual innuendos made by Mr. Blankenship: 2

Times I've taken off my locker door: 5 (someone took the screws to the hinges off)

Times I've cursed plaid shorts: 6

Homework assingments I didn't do: 2

Year this week felt like: 298342309483049

Sorry.

I apologize for all time between my posts. What with marching, sectionals, Driver's Ed, sleeping, and eating, I have little spare time. Once Summer Band is over, I should be back on my regular schedule.

Anyway,

In case you were wondering, summer band is awful.
As you could guess, I'm not a big fan of sweating, and other things that come with physical activity. Not only that, but there's this stupid "Section Competition." I've never really understood this one. Basically, each section tries to be more "unified" than the other. We wear the same color shirts, and attempt to be really loud when we count out loud. My section leaders seem pretty bent on winning againn this year. Which I can understand. If they win, that would mean they were the best section leaders. As for me, winning means just about nothing. Because if you win, you get a brand new.... ANNOUNCEMENT THAT YOU ARE THE BEST SECTION AT THE FIRST FOOTBALL GAME!!!!! Yeah. Okay. Cool, I guess.. But I go along with their little schemes, because they will get all frusterated at me if I don't, and it could lead to me being made to run around the marching grid. Adrienne runs for no one. Not only that, I'm trying to be more cooperative with my section, so maybe they'll like me more. Because last year I wasn't really friends with anyone in my section. I didn't talk to anyone, thus earning my "emo" title.

Speaking of "emo".

There is a girl in my Driver's Ed class whom I severely dislike. I don't remeber her full name so I'll call her ThatGirl. ThatGirl is ridiculously rich. She has an iPhone (which is stupid, because they're not that great) and lots of designer clothes (also, not that great) and she loves to tell everyone about how great she is. I've heard a lot about her going to a fancy Private School, and talking about how hard volleyball is, and laughs at all the band kids, and says that what we do is just a walk in a field of daisies compared to her unfathomably difficult "conditioning". And apparently, I'm "emo" because I don't talk to her. She is completely oblivious to the fact that everyone dislikes her. ThatGirl is the anti-Adrienne. I'm thinking of a fabulous plot to make her take back what she said.

Until then,

I will stick to watching my non-cable television shows, like Maury, The Cosby Show, and those long-forgotten movies they play on TV at 4:00, that nobody remembers. Yesterday, I watched a movie featuring all the members of N*Sync, and it was about how Lance Bass falls in love with this girl he met on the train. Which is, you know, ironic, because he falls in love with boys now.

The Worst Possible Thing That Could Happen

I have had quite a busy schedule lately. Not fun, no. But busy.

First, theres Driver's Ed:

My first ever Driver's Ed class was as boring as shopping for furniture. Not like, the cool neat-o kind. The grandma-type furniture, that's comes in one color: brown. All we did was fill out paperwork. Out instructor, Mr. Beam, is the last person you would want teaching you how to drive. He talks a lot about his two year stay in Japan, and how driving around there was easy for him. Because he's really great. Or so he wants us to think. He was also in the Air Force for a long time. So, basically, he's Mr. Gallow, with a different name. He would frequently go into little tirades about how "kids these days" do all kinds of crazy stunts. Then we answered quesions out of our Texas Drivers Handbook, which was less than thrilling. A lot of the questions are things like "What does the Do Not Pass Sign mean?" Or, "At what time of day do you turn your headlights on?" Then we got our reward of a ten minute break. After that, we watched a lovely video from the eighties. With rockin'-cool music and everything!

Then I returned home to the worst possible situation:

My computer died.

Something happened with the lightning, and BAM! It was gone.

Everything I did for that useless son of a bitch. I spent so much money on it! I worked so hard to make it work! It CHOSE to die. It hates me. Loaths me. And will do everything in it's power to destroy all of my hard work. We've always been mortal enemies. And we always will be. It's like, Team Rocket and Ash. I guess I would be Team Rocket. Which would make me the bad guy, so that metaphor wouldn't work.

To top it all off, marching band started today. Which was not quite as awful as it was last year. Or as Sarah said: "It's only kind of death, instead of total death." My section was a tad more accepting. I actually have that whole sliding thing figured out. And, it was raining part of the time Although that made it less humid, at least it wasn't hot.

When I got picked up from marching, my Mom informed me that she, and she alone, fixed the computer. I was quite amazed. My Dad, who has a degree in Electrical Engineering, couldn't fix it, but my Mom, who has a degree in... Education(?) fixed it.

So.

There you go.

Things I Don't Like About The Strokes' YOLO Video

It took me forever to figure out, but YOLO stands for You Only Live Once. So, I hope I've helped clear things up for you. Anyway, here is what I don't like about that music video. (The first one, not the Traveling-to-a-Different-Planet one.)

1 - What are they doing in a sewer?

I know the Strokes can be dirty, but not THAT dirty. (Now that's comedy!)

Anyways, I know most music videos don't make any sense, and usually involve some random scantilly clad women dancing around, but this one is puzzling. There is no plausible explanation for why the Strokes are in a sewer (or at least, that's what I believe it is, and for the sake of argument, it is a sewer). Okay, lets say the Strokes are running low on cash, and collectively decide to take jobs at the New York City Sewage Department. One day, they decide the want to do a concert for all the other sewer workers. They get dressed in white and start playing "You Only Live Once". Then out of nowhere, this stuff starts coming out of the holes in the walls! The Strokes would rather die than not finish a song, so the keep on playing. The stuff is rising unusually fast, and they all drown.


2 - What is the "stuff" that they are drowning in?

Is it black water? Is it raw sewage? Is it oil?

I certainly hope it's not raw sewage.



3 - I don't like Nick Valensi's long hair.

Some people like it, some people don't. It reminds me of my Mom's wedding picture hair. And that's wrong. I do like Nick Valensi's guitar though. It's the same as my Dad's.

Or perhaps....

The Strokes got kidnapped, and someone put them in a windowless, doorless room, and began to fill it up with a mystery liquid, and then told them to play, and if they stopped, the kidnappers would kill their families.

Maybe that's it.

11 Most Ridiculous Items Sold in the SkyMall

As I believe I've stated before, I love the SkyMall. I will never buy anything from there, but it's hilarious imagining that there are people out there that would. I'm assuing their target consumer must be wealthy, old, senile people, who buy things solely because they can. On my last flight, I took my copy of the SkyMall with me. I picked out the 11 Most Ridiculous Items Sold in the SkyMall.

11 - Shure Earbuds.

Trust me, I know how important it is to have good headphones/earbuds. My favorite pair are missing and I have to use the dumb earbuds that came with my iPod, and they work about as well as cars made out of paper. Anyway, I bet these earbuds are really great. They look comfortable, sleek, stylish. There's only one small problem: they cost $600. You could buy two video iPods, and still have money left over, for that amount! I mean, I could understand paying, maybe a $100 for a nice set, but please! $600? They better do my laundry, and walk my dog.

10 - The Talking Bible

Basically, it's the Bible recorded onto a bulky device that resembles a early cassette player. They say that old people can use it if they can't see well enough to read. And it's portable! So you can be shopping, and much the annoyance of everyone around them! Not only that, but you'll have no idea where you are, or be able to find the passage you want! What a deal. Only $79.99.

9 - Remote Controlled Shark

This is exactly what it sounds like: a shark that can be remotely controlled underwater. I'm not sure what the exact uses for this is, but I assume it has to do with World Domination Schemes, used my generally unsuccesfull super-villains. Like, Dr. Boomrage is trying to capture the President by carefully placing a remote controlled shark in a pond nearby the White House. The President goes out to check his pond, and a shark shoots a net at him, while Dr. Boomrage's henchmen, Snarls and Swindle, are waiting close by to take the trapped President back to their lair. But something goes horribly awry, and Snarls and Swindle end up in the netted mess, and the President goes off without a scratch. While Snarls and Swindle return the lair, Dr. Boomrage calls them "blundering dolts," and begins working on the next scheme. Which will involve a train.

8 - A Computer Monitor With An iPod Dock

Tried of having your iPod not directly plugged in to your computer? Wish you could play music while being on the computer at the same time? Good news! You already can! But if you want to pay $459.95 for something your computer already does, be my guest!

7 - World's Largest Crossword Puzzle

I don't know about you, but I am terrible at crossword puzzles. Maybe it's the dyslexia. But seriously, how am I supposed to know a ten letter word for "not able to be recognized'? What kind of crap is that? However, some people are really good at them, and enjoy them, which is why they sell a 7' by 7' poster for your wall, consisting of one gigantic crossword puzzle. It's has 28,000 ridiculously incomprehensible clues, and 91,000 tiny squares.

6 - Waterproof iPod Case

For all those times when your at a pool party, and you think "Fuck this, I'm listening to My Chemical Romance...which is far cooler than these stupid people I'm with." Yeah, guess what, you're not cool. Get a life. Stop listening to your iPod 24/7.

5 - The Runaway Alarm Clock

Basically this thing is supposed to roll off your nightstand, and runaway from you whilst making loud, high pitched noises. Theoretically, you are to chase after it, thus getting you up. This seems like it would work, because it would force you to get out of bed. But usually, when I am forced out of bed for bathroom, or turning on my fan reasons, I have no trouble falling back into the fabulous country of Dreamland. So, you could just turn off the alarm clock, and go back to sleep. And if you really want to waste money and defeat the purpose, you can take the wheeles off! So then it's just a regular alarm clock. All of this nonsense for the low price $59.99!

4 - "Poison Oak" Tree Sculpture

I've never been a big fan of the whole "let's put a face on this tree" thing. I freaks me out. Even the happy, smiley ones. But this one is in a league of it's own.






WHAT THE HELL?!?!? That thing is the scariest thing you could put on a tree, ever. It makes me want to cut down some more of the rainforest. Or, kill some pandas, or something.

3 - Basho, The Sumo Wrestler Sculpture

I like Japanese things. They're so small and cute, and totally unnecesary. Like Hello Kitty. I mean, where would we be without Hello Kitty? I also like non-sushi Japanese food. Such as tempura. I also like Japanese technology. Such as everything I own.
I do not, however, like Sumo Wrestling. Maybe it's a cultural thing. But I can't handle fat guys in rather relieveling diapers hugging each other, while grunting. Just not my thing. So, maybe Japanese people would like this statue, but I certainly don't.



At least the were smart enough to take a picture of it at the most not-nauseating angle. Ha, could imagine walking into someone's house, and finding that? What would you say? "Hey, I like your naked baby statue." "Did someone forcibly make you put that monstrosity in your home?' I don't know. I would throw it out a nearby window when they weren't looking.

2 - Summer Footed Pajamas

Everyone has had footed pajamas. Mine had neon dinosaurs on them. I was four years old. It was undeniably cute, and I loved those dino pajamas. So cozy, and warm.

But would I want them now?

Not really. I mean, I'm 15 now. Doesn't that quantify as being "a little too old" for footed pajamas?

I guess not:



They advertise that they are "great for all ages". No, they are for cute four year olds. This reminds me of something your distant Aunt would send you. They'd see the words "all ages" and assume that you want one. Then, a week later you have footed pajamas with multicolored skulls on them. What do you do? By no means are you going to wear them, but your Aunt will eventually make an unannounced visit, and you will have to wear them. And look like a four year old. This is a message for all people trying to by gifts for people my age, and don't know anything about them: just give us money. It will be so much more useful, and we'll actually get something we want. Not footed pajamas.

1 - Digital Countdown Toaster

Before I make fun of this, you must read the description:

We have put a man on the moon, but we still don't know when the toast will be done. Now there's no more guesswork with the Digital Countdown Toaster. This new 4-slice toaster features a visible digital countdown LED timer that indicates when the toast is ready with an audible ring, so you can grab it while it's hot!

A bagel function toasts the cut side of the bagel and warms the outer crust and the "Set & Forget" slide control assures that your bagel, waffles, French toast and more, and then toast it to perfection! When your phone or doorbell rings, simply push the cancel button and it will stop mid-cycle and wait for you!

An electronic sensor ensures consistent browning results, time after time, and a safety "anti-jam," feature automatically shuts off the power. Has easy-touch control buttons and removable crumb tray for easy cleaning. This is quite simply the finest toaster ever invented. You'll want one of these - so will your friends.

A truly great gift for only $129.99



Do any of you have serious problems with your toaster? Mine seems to be doing it's job. It toasts things. But apparently, that's just not enough. I guess I just didn't realize how much time I was wasting not knowing how much time my toast was going to take. This toaster does not speed up the toasting process, it just tells you that it's going to take about three mintues. Then it lets you know that it's done with an audible ring! That's twelve times better than the sound of my toast popping up. Oh man! Now I can go do things while I'm making toast. No more "Oh, sorry Sarah, I can't talk now, I'm toasting." Or "Nancy, go home, I'm making toast, and can't answer the door."

Nonsense.

Just nonsense.

If can't already tell I'm getting bored...

Yesterday was a typical day. I mean, the usual happened. I did more work. I ate at Taco John's (West-Mex...psht.) I went for a walk with my Grandma. We played Scrabble and I lost. I talked to my Mom, Nancy, and Sarah. Really, that's what happens everyday. It's fairly routine around here. But I'm kind of starting to get used to it. Today, I got up earlier than I normally do: 10:00 am. So, if this sounds like the incoherent ramblings of a city girl who has spent too much time in a small town, I apologize. I only have two more full days here, then I'm outta this joint.


And now,

An Open Letter to Lord Voldemort:


Hey, Voldy!
(I'm writing to the HBP Version, who is still alive, not the HD Version.)

I know you've been busy lately, what with all the havoc you've been wreaking, and fear in hearts you've been instilling, but I have some questions for you. It has come to my attention, while you may be dangerously evil, you are still a living organism. But, does the fact that you hate just about everything mean that you don't have to do the normal things living humanoid organisms do? Do you have to brush your teeth? Do you have floss? Do you eat? And if so, do you eat normal food, like sandwiches? Or like, human hearts? Do you just use magic for all of your daily activities. Do you even need to touch things? Do you just Accio them? I need to know, Voldy. It's really been bothering me. Do you wear shoes? Are they Crocs? Voldemort, do you wear Crocs? Because I don't think I could take you seriously if you were wearing Crocs. Just like I can't take Rupert Grint seriously because he was in a movie called "Thunderpants". Do you like music? Classical? Death Metal? Do you have an iPod? Do you watch Television? How about Soap Operas? Do you like cats? Do wear Hawaiian shirts? Do you like broccoli? Do you play Grand Theft Auto? Do you trim your fingernails? What would have happened if you had become a teacher at Hogwarts, and you had a pure blood in your class who did very poorly, and a Muggle-born who was exceptionally good? Would you still favor the pure blood? What would happen if I gave you a hug? Would you implode? Do you have a toaster? Can you blow your nose? Do you wear Aviators? Do you have a scuba diving license?

I NEED TO KNOW!

Okay, just get back to me as soon as you can.

Giggles and Sunshine,

Adrienne.

Fleh.

I feel so sorry for my Grandma. She's trying really hard to make it fun for me, and do stuff with me, when in reality, I don't want to do anything. She really wants me to like her, and... I mean, I do, but in her efforts to make me like her more, she's gotten really annoying, and I like her less. So, her little scheme is backfiring. Also, she keeps trying to get me to make websites, and photo slide shows. I have no need for websites and photo slide shows.

My Mom bought HPDH at Tom Thumb for me, and I'm going to have to wait till Wednesday to read it! THAT'S FAR TOO LONG!

Day 1 - PAINTING EXTRAVAGANZA

If you've ever been to North Platte, Nebraska (odds are you haven't), you know that you have few choices as to what you want to do. I mean, I could go down and watch the trains get sorted, but... why? That said, I now realize that the best way to keep myself busy is by doing things for my Grandparents. I woke up, and heated up a frozen omelet. They don't really cook here. The have a lot of frozen food. Then I did my daily blog. Blogging around here is not a trivial deal. I have to get up before my Grandma, make breakfast, go to the computer, get on Gmail, open up a Blogger window, then type my blog in my e-mail, then paste it in Blogger. It's all a precautionary measure to make sure my Grandma doesn't read my blog. Which, in reality, it would probably be easier to not care, and let her read it, but I like feeling skanduhlouz and sneaky. So, I'm not.
Anyway, after breakfast, my Grandad informed me that we would be painting their porch. I had nothing else to do, and I like painting, so I agreed to help. First, I had to sweep the porch. Then vacuum it, then mop it, then Grandad sanded it, I swept and vacuumed it again, and then we had to put wood filler in the cracks, then we had to let that dry, and then Grandad sanded it again, which was followed by me sweeping and vacuuming, and then finally, we were ready to paint it. The former color of the porch was dark forest green. When my Grandad opened up the can of paint, the brightness of the green kind of kicked me in the face. It's like neon sea foam green. The trim on the house is a sage-y color, and clashed rather dangerously. But, I did it anyway. And after we were done, it was actually kind of cute. It grew on me. Nonetheless, we are repainting it the same dark green, today. As the paint was drying, Grandma asked me if I wanted to go to the store. When people ask you if you want to go places around here, you say yes. No matter where you're going. So, we went to the store and got some juice, bananas, lettuce, dog treats, and ketchup. I also got a "treat", as my Grandma says, of Dulce de Leche yogurt. I'm so spoiled. We also picked up some green and some brown spray paint, with which we were going to paint the kitchen trashcan, and the porch chair. When we got back, we did so. After that, my Grandma suggested that we go take a walk around the park. I got Beryl, and we got in the car. When we got to the park I saw a herd of attractive young gentlemen, who all seemed to be staring at my Grandma and I. Then we walked around the length of the park a couple times, and returned to the car. Then my Grandma gave me the ol' "Tour of the Town." As you would expect, there's not much here. There are some fancier houses, which I did not know. But fancy is a relative term. When we returned home, my Grandad suggested that we play Scrabble, which is what they play every night. They know all those random two letter words, like Xi, Oo, Aa, Om, Ex, Ef, etc. And, needless to say, they won. I did, however, have a seven letter word: Sleighs. So, that was the highlight of my day.

Oh, yeah. Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows came out, and I don't have it. That was the low...light(?) of my day.

Nebraskan Mayhem!

My grand adventure started out as most grand aventures do - very boringly.

I arrived at the airport around 11:00ish, and I checked in my bag, and did the whole security thing, and said goodbye to my parents, and Wes. Which was quite sad, really. He's so cute. He cried when I left. After this is where I got a slightly confused. I walked along till I found my gate, C14, and noticed there were no seats. All those losers, and their kids had taken up residence in my seats! Injustice! So, I went and got a smoothie, thinking that some of the people would need to leave, and I could snag their seat. When I got back, some of the handicapped spots were open. Screw the crippled, I wanted to sit down. So I did. There were three empty seats next to me, and this business man came and sat down in the one farthest from me. Then his two other friends came over and started talking about silly business things. Like "she keeps micromanaging things that don't need to be micromanaged!" And other jargon. Then I decided to go to the bathroom. But those over sized gold cart things that shuttle people to different gates kept getting in my way. Actually, I was just sort of walking in the middle of the "road" (it's not a road, but I can't think of a better word) and they'd yell at me: "MISS! MOVE PLEASE!" And they'd have to yell that like, eight times before I heard them. And then everyone would look at me like: Stupid girl who doesn't know exactly what she's doing. Which was true. I didn't know quite what I was doing. Then, I boarded the plane, and my seat was 31-F, so I headed on over to the very back of the plane. I had the window seat, but ANOTHER business man had taken it! Foiled again! By Businessmen! Then he kind of looked at me and said "Oh. You have this seat." And I was thinking: "Obviously. Why would I be standing here if that wasn't my seat. It's not like I want to sit by you." So we did the awkward seat-change-shuffle thing, and I was good to go. Sort of. There was one thing that supremely bothered me about sitting in that seat: I didn't have my copy of the SkyMall. I love SkyMall. More than any aspect about flying in a plane. There are so many useless things. Like... hot dog cookers, and Buddha statues, and remote controlled sharks. WHO WOULDN'T WANT THOSE!?!?? So there I was. Sitting next to a grumpy businessman, with no SkyMall to keep me entertained. It was looking pretty bleak. I got out my "Guns Germs and Steel" book, and tried to read that. Ha, no. Not happening. Then I got out my iPod and listened to that for a while. Then I stared at the clouds. (are you jealous yet?) The flight attendant came around offering everyone their complementary drink. Mr. Businessman was all bothered because he had to move his arm to pass me my water. He gave me this look like: Curse you for being thirsty! I had to move 8 muscles for you! We landed in the city of Omaha at approximately 2:30. I followed everybody else to the baggage claim area, where I was greeted by my Grandma. We proceeded to wait for my luggage. When I acquired the suitcase, we walked outside so my Grandad could come get us. When I got in the car, my grandparents asked me what I wanted to do in Omaha (actually, I just wanted to go to their house) but nothing was open, so we just drove around for a while. We ate at Farmhouse Cafe, and our waitress kept getting lemonade and water confused. Then we started ourlong journey to North Platte, Nebraska. Which is five hours away from Omaha.

There's not much between Omaha and North Platte. There's a size able amount of semi trucks, about 10 Rest Areas, and a couple gas stations. And corn. And beans. And alfalfa. My Grandparents poitned out the difference between those three crops. Then the greatest thing ever, happened: I saw a semi truck that looked exactly like Optimus Prime! Flames and all. It was the exact shade of red, and blue. I'm pretty much convinced it was Opimus Prime. Shut up. I can dream, can't I?

After about five hours of excruciatingly boring driving. We arrived at the Pressnall Manor. Er, my Grandparent's house. I got my things. Stumbled into their backroom, fell on the bed, and fell asleep.

Things I Shouldn't Have Said #1

(While watching the trailer for Across The Universe)
Dad: "That song sounds like a wannabe Green Day"
Me: "You just proved how culturally inept you are."

"Yes! I'm so glad you got Transformers for your birthday! Now Optimus Prime will have someone to play with!"

"SARCASM! It's for people who pretend to have a sense of humor!"

"Whore! Get out of my seat and make me a Chicken Pot Pie!"

"Transformers and Harry Potter are equal in my mind."

Official Review For Transformers

As I was reading through my blogs, I realized I had not done my Official Review For Transformers. It is as follows:

I walked into Transformers with unnecessarily low expectations. I figured it be some oddly represented, inaccurate, feature-length Waste Of Time. I was so wrong. The movie starts out strong: Blackout (a Decepticon) attacks a military base in Qatar in the first ten minutes. From there we transition to Sam Witwicky, who really wants a car, and a girlfriend. (Which won't fix all your problems, by the way.) His Dad helps him buy a used car, which turns out to be Bumblebee. Bumblebee had his voice box "damaged in battle" (direct quote from Optimus Prime) and has to talk through the radio. Sam soon realizes that his car is not the usual "I got it from the used car lot, and it came with a free steak dinner" car. It can (are you ready for this?) TRANSFORM! I know! Sam, understandably, freaks out upon learning this. However, Bumblebee saves them from some other Decepticon I can't remember the name of, and introduces him to Optimus Prime, Jazz, Ratchet, and Ironhide. Meanwhile, the Defense Department is in a pickle. Somebody is trying to hack their system. BUT WHO?!???!
A "comical" duo of hacker discover that it not a country that is hacking the government's system, but rather, other-worldly lifeforms. Optimus Prime tells Sam all about the All Spark Cube (a cube that can bring technology to life), Megatron (an exceptionally evil Decepticon, who wants the All Spark for ill intentions), and the importance of Sam's Grandfather's Glasses (the coordinates of the All Spark were accidentally etched into his glasses). Sam and the Autobots must go on a Quest for the All Spark, all the while, the Defense Department continues to learn what we already know. I'm not going to tell you the rest of the movie, because you need to see it. Oh, and that girl. I don't think she's important enough for me to include her.

The action sequences are glorious. Really. The plot is kind of unnecessary. I would be quite alright if there wasn't any plot. I mean, all the plot does is tie the action sequences together.
Opitmus Prime is as dignified and bad ass as I had imagined. (Except when he removes his mouth-plate thing to reveal his moth, he looks a little like a gorilla.)

There were only a few things that bothered me:
1) Ironhide was never hardcore in the series. Optimus Prime usually told him to go away and report back to Cybertron.
2) I really wanted Unicron to be involved.
3) That girl.
4) Scorponok is a Terrorcon, and the failed to mention that.

Other than that, it was spectacular.

People Who Bother Me

I wrote this a while ago. Back when Gerald Ford died. I'm glad that whole thing is over.

Some famous people deserve their fame, others deserve fame, and don't get it. And then there are those who don't deserve it, and have it. These people never cease to amaze me. I found seven people who baffle me the most.

Queen Latifah - Oh, Queen Latifah. You're so unnecessary. And confusing. Where do I begin? Well, let's start with your name. If by chance I were to know you personally, would I call you Queen, or Latifah? Both are the epitome of idiocracy, as far as names go, so I suppose it really wouldn't matter. Or perhaps the people close to you call you by some sort of pseudonym. Like Dana. Anyways, Ms. Latifah, what have you done lately? According to IMDb, you've made a truckload of terrible movies that my Mom would like. It also says you were a human beatbox for "Ladies Fresh", and were a female rapper of some sort. But all of us whippersnappers are too young to remember that. AND it says you were in the movie "Country Bears", which is the worst movie made in the last five years, hands down. Seriously, I was babysitting and had to sit through the whole thing, because Camden wanted to watch it. Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me want to bite my veins out. Okay, anyways, I'm not too sure why you're still famous. You might be a great actress, but who would want to sit through a movie like "The Cookout" to discover that. I've never seen it, but with my Mom and her "let's watch every terrible movie, ever!" thing, I'm sure I will. Also, you're hosting the People's Choice Awards. The 3rd least respected awards show ever. Right after the Kid's Choice Awards and the Teen's Choice Awards. As if people know what's good or bad. People are stupid. Especially in masses. So I'm assuming the exec's at People's Choice Awards came to you, after being rejected by Crazy Tom Cruise, Tyra Banks, Brooke Hogan, and Flavor Flav.

Marilyn Manson - Before you kids get mad at me for defaming a potentially great musician, you have to understand something. I only have 3 fears: Dinosaur skeletons, large dead animals that have been stuffed, and Marilyn Manson. He's so hellishly creepy looking. I think it's the differently colored eyes. Anyways, at the moment, his only claim to fame is: he married and divorced a stripper. Supposedly he's a normal guy, but his skin tone leaves me to beg to differ. Also he's making the movie "Phantasmagoria". Go look it up.

Justin Timberlake - I hate to break it to you, ladies, he's really not that great looking. Not ugly by any means, but I get this weird Eminem vibe from him. You know those guys who wear wife beaters, khaki pants/shorts and maybe a fedora, because they're classy. Not only that, didn't he used to be in like, N*Sync? I was never a part of that whole "boy-band" craze. I thought they were all terrible. I still do. So, I guess my first impression of him, which was "what a fag" stuck.

Bono and U2 - Now if you want to find selfish pride, look no further than Bono. I know what you're thinking: "But, Adrienne! He went to Africa and helped starving children!" Yeah. Sure. As if he cares. It's all a publicity stunt. Why else would a terrible band like U2 be popular? People are all like "If I buy this U2 CD, I'll be indirectly saving the world." No, you won't. You'll be giving Bono more money to buy hideous glasses. Also, we have that ridiculous name thing going on again. I bet his real name is like Derby. Derby Johnson. But he wanted a "rockin'-cool" name, like... BONO! If I were him I'd change it to something like Laser Death. Not Bono. That sounds like some gross Indian food with too much curry, that your Mom made, and you have to eat it, because otherwise she'll get discouraged and never make anything new, ever.

George Lopez - You tell me something funny George Lopez said that was funny, and I'll show you the magical rainbow pig that lives in my garbage.

Gerald Ford - This is really more about how famous his death was, rather than how famous his life was. From what I understand, he was never officially elected President. He was appointed when Nixon resigned. That's why they call him the Accidental President. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sounds like a respected title to me. I don't think he was a bad president, but I'm not like, 70-something, so I wouldn't really know. But he was 93 years old. That's what old people do, they die. That sounds heartless, but the media is treating like it's never happened before. Not only that, he's been dead since he died. I don't need anymore "Special Updates" on his death. He's not getting any deader. But if he rises from the grave and goes on a mass killing spree, then you can tell me.

Janet Jackson - I feel bad for people like her. Clinging to their last thread of fame like a starving Guatemalan child clings to his last bowl of rice. This is one person I think needs to retire soon. She's like 45. Not that that's old, but for her genre, it is. Also, I'm pretty sure she can't sing. She has lovely voice enhancers to help her.
She also has the "gotta have a much plastic surgery as possible." Their whole family seems to have that problem. She looks like an alien. A heavily airbrushed alien. She needs to go retire somewhere remote. Like... Vermont. And start playing professional pool, and very slowly become the world's greatest pool champion ever. And then she can have her fame back.

My Blessing, and My Curse

Before I start on my little tirade, I'd like to say that I love Mac, and all things Mac. Specifically MacBooks. Everything is so sleek and shiny.

But that does not absolve them from making me extremely frustrated.

For my birthday, I acquired a Video iPod. When I plugged it into my very old iMac, a nice little pop-up kindly told me that the iPod won't work unless I have iTunes 7.3. But in order to download that, I have to have QuickTime 7, and in order to have that, I'd have to upgrade my whole operating system to Mac OS 10.4. (I had 10. 3) Because my parents are cheap, they don't buy new computers, just new software. But OS 10.4 comes in DVD format, and my computer doesn't have a DVD reader. That posed quite a problem for me. I could either buy the DVD, send it back to Apple, with ten dollars, and get the CD version. Or I could wait till I got my MacBook, or I could try and find some place that sold just the CD version. Well, fastmac.com had the CD version, so I bought it. Then, a few days later, I received a polite little email informing me that my coveted software was... out of stock. I proceeded to bang my head against my desk in frustration. They said that I could change my order to the DVD, and it would come with this mysterious "CD back-up" that would fix all my problems. At that point, I just stopped caring. I told them to switch my order, and hoped for the best. A few agonizing days later, my software arrived. Apparently, CD back up, is the DVD burned onto CD's. Which, really did fix all of my problems. In an hour or so, I had successfully (for like, the first time ever) installed OS 10.4.
Because the new operating system doesn't come with the new iTunes, I had to go to Apple, and download it myself. After a while, I clicked on my now blue, iTunes icon, only to be greeted my a soft little alert noise and a pop-up saying that I need to have 10.4.7 to be able to use it. This required me to go back to Apple.com and download the entire 170MB of 10.4.10. (Which I thought was just like, 10.4.1, but, it's actually 10, and thus, higher than 7.) After four hours, I was starting to download my songs to my iPod. This took place yesterday. I received my iPod. It took me two weeks to set up my iPod. Speaking of which, all the album art is messed up. When I click on The Strokes - First Impressions of Earth, I get the album art for Atreyu - A Death Grip On Yesterday. Which is utterly, and completely wrong.

Why must I go through all of this? Because my Dad refuses to by anything un-Mac. Which is a blessing and a curse. I love all Mac things, and yet, they can be so mind-numbingly frustrating.

Curses upon you, Steve Jobs! May you break both your legs!

And on top of that, Blockbuster didn't have the original Transfomers: The Movie. Which is sad. Because that movie is better than cheescake. Which is quite delicious. (Whenever I spell 'delicious', I have to sing that part from "Fergalicious", otherwise, I end up spelling it 'delisicoiuisois' or something.)

Optimus Prime Vs. Megatron

Yeah, okay, so. My vacation sucked. That's all that you really need to know.

Anyway, most of you probably know. I really love Transformers. Particularly Optimus Prime. However, last night, I was trying to fall asleep, and thinking "Is Optimus Prime really better than Megatron?" I mean, obviously, I like Optimus more, but is he really that amazing?

So, here are some different things you could judge Transformers on. (I'm talking about the original series not the new, probably gay, movie.)


Appearance:
Optimus Prime is red, white, and blue. Normally those colors look very... American when put together. Optimus, however, doesn't. Also, if I had to pick the best looking robot, I would pick him. He's so manly looking. Almost fatherly. Megatron on the other hand, is gray. Not silver, gray. And his face is very scary/stupid looking. Also, it looks like he has a mullet.
Winner: Optimus Prime

Transform ability:
Optimus Prime can transform into a semi truck. A really amazing semi truck. With missiles, and such. Not only that, but he can run over things, and nothing stands in his way. Megatron can turn into... a gun. I'm serious. Just a gun. I guess it's pretty big, but still. It like, defeats the purpose of being a Transformer.
Winner: Optimus Prime

Leadership:
Prime. He's like their adoptive father. All the Autobots have extreme respect for Optimus. Not only that, but everyone loves Optimus. Megatron had a mutiny led against him by Starscream. And no one likes Megatron. And are probably very glad that he is not their father.
Winner: Optimus Prime

Mottos:
Optimus Prime's mottos include: "Autobots, Transform and roll out!" "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings." and "No sacrifice is too great in the service of freedom." I don't really know what that last one means, but it's inspiring nonetheless.
Megtron's mottos include: "Peace through tyranny!" and "Lesser creatures are the playthings of my will." Those just make me want to punch him in the face.
Winner: Optimus Prime.

Name:
Optimus Prime's name sort of reminds me of steak. And eyedoctors. However, it's so... great. I mean, he has two names. And him saying "I AM OPTIMUS PRIME!" is unmatched. Megatron, is also a very cool name. Mega means super big/great and Tron is really robot-y. But I get Megatron and Cybertron confused. And Cybertron is a planet. So. Yeah.
Winner: Tie

Other:
Optimus Prime had a girlfriend. Her name was Ariel. I think the closest thing to a girlfriend Megatron has ever had was Shockwave. Not only that, but Megtron, and the Decepticons in general, have never, ever won. Also, Wikipedia says that Optimus has no equal in power or intelligence.

So I guess he really is that great. I love you, Optimus Prime.

Misadventure #5 - Chapter1

Wow. Let me start off by saying that I'm beyond glad that I'm back to the glorious state of Texas. Usually, I don't find much that I can say I like about Texas, but I am so relieved to be back.

It all started on June 7th at about 2:00. I had spent the whole day packing and cleaning out the car. My Dad arrived, and we began our disastrously boring journey. My Mom had bought me and my brother portable DVD players, so the actual driving part of the trip wasn't that bad. I watched The Office, V for Vendetta, House, and other movies. One movie that is very out of the ordinary for me to like is Phantom Of The Opera. Theoretically, there is no reason why I should like this movie. It's a musical, it's Opera, it has disfigured pedophiles, and a mildly confusing plotline. If I had to describe my vacation in one word it would be: awful. So, I should hate this movie. But I don't. I love it. I think I watched it a grand total of three times in twelve days. Anyway, after a couple hours, we stopped in Oklahoma to get some food. Then we drove to a small town outside of Wichita, Kansas. We stayed at the unusually nice Holiday Inn. It was very clean, and that is my number one requirement for hotels. The next day we got back in the car and trudged on. As you may or may not know, there is very little on Highway 35. Basically just flat, grassy land. Which isn't very fun to drive through. But I am not unaccustomed to the doldrums of the Midwest. I've made this trip every year since I was three. So, this is not new. Finally we came upon our accursed destination: Beatrice, Nebraska. (Pronounced BE-AT-TRIS [the Nebraskans will kill you if you pronounce it incorrectly]). This is the third largest town in Nebraska, but don't let that fool you. The only thing of mild importance is the tiny little airport, that has an average of one flight a day. Other than that, there are a few restaurants, a couple gas stations, and two tractor factories, and that's it. This is where I was supposed to be spending 4 wonderfully unfortunate days. The first day, we sat outside my Dad's cousins house, and ate fish (I didn't, but everyone else did.) Then I saw Blake. Blake and I have basically grown up together. At every family reunion I can remember, I have hung out with Blake. He's a bit younger than me, but compared to every other cousin I have, he's the closest in maturity and we share the same sense of humor. Blake, however, is totally immersed in sports. All of them. His Dad pushed him extremely hard to be good at all things athletic. And he is. I very much expected that Blake and I would reaccquaint ourselves, and go on being friends, like we normally do. However, this did not happen. I guess Blake is just too cool to be friends with me now. So, this led to me not having anyone to talk to. My cousin Phil, who is actually two months older than me, is not like me at all. He's one of those comicbook-anime-Lego-StarWars-videogame types. Which is fine. But I am not. So I'm in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do, and no one to talk to. This is supposed to be vacation.

More Chapters coming later!

Short Update

Oh, dear. It has been an interesting four days. I'm not going to go into my lavishly detailed story right now. The only thing that you need to know is that I'm bored to the extent of it's definition. The highlight of my day was... going to Wal-Mart. I don't even like Wal-Mart. So, if you wish, please contact me in some form or fashion.

Misadventure #4

This morning I was awoken to the sound of my phone ringing, very, very, early. Like 10:00. That's insanely early for someone who went to bed at 3:00 the previous night. I answered it to hear Nancy telling me to come to her house with Sarah. I didn't change clothes or take a shower, I just put on shoes and walked over there. About halfway there, I heard a PSSSSSST sound. I turned around, and saw this Hispanic man, standing halfway out of his door, looking at me. I figured there was no way it was him who made the noise, so I ignored him. Then, I heard it again, and saw him looking, and this time pointing at me. I can't find enough classy adjectives to describe how bothered I was. Then he just kept doing it. PSSSSST PSSSSSSST PSSSSSST! I mean, if he had something to say to me, why didn't he just say "Hey, you, I need to talk to you." Or something other than PSSSST. It's like he was in second grade, and wanted to tell me a secret. Ah, it was so weird.
When I finally arrived at Chez Nancy, I saw Sarah, acting like a retard, which is nothing out of the ordinary. They informed me that they were waiting for Lady In The Water to come on. I advised them against it. I had heard that it was an awful movie, but they (mostly Sarah) were resilient. While we were waiting, we watched "The Wicker Man". This movie was about this man, who is trying to rescue this little girl, after receiving a letter from his estranged ex-fiance, saying that her daughter is missing. He travels to the island of Summers Isle. He finds that the people who live there are crazy-Amish-ish-cult-sacrifice-y people. He searches for the little girl, and suspects that she is going to be sacrificed. When his suspicions are confirmed, he rescues the little girl, and she leads him back to the village, where we realize that HE is the one they want, and that the whole thing was a set up from the beginning. Then they put a mask of bees on his head, break both of his kneecaps, and hang him upside down in a gigantic wooden structure in the shape of a man. Hence, The Wicker Man. This may sound like an interesting plot line to you. But the entire movie was ruined by one thing: Nicolas Cage. There are too many things wrong with Nicolas Cage. The most prominent thing is that he only has one expression: furrowed brow, and mouth slightly open. Very distraught looking. Also, he can't speak correctly, and generally it sounds like he is speaking in low grunting noises. Actually, it's scientifically proven that all your problems can be traced back to Nicolas Cage.
Finally, Lady in the Water came on. There was nothing that could have prepared us for what was to come. The movie started out with some Native American looking animation, that tried to tell the story of how people living in the water were trying to help people on land, but the land people weren’t listening. Thus leading to all the problems we have today. The we make yet another “seamless” transition to this man trying to figure out who has been swimming in the pool after hours. He finds this young girl, who never seems to understand the whole “clothes” concept. Her name is Story, of all things, and we learn that she is a sea-nymph, or Narph. Story was sent to the earth, because she needs to inspire a writer who is writing a book that will eventually change the world. This writer is played by M. Night Shylaman himself. He is also the writer, director, and producer of this defilement of film. The man who found Story is named Cleavland. Story tells Cleavland that she needs to get back to “The Blue World”, and the only way to do this is by means of a giant eagle. However, when the giant eagle comes for her, she is attacked by Scrunts. A scrunt is a big wolf-like creature that is made out of grass, and twigs. The reason it wants to kill Story is because she is a Madame Narph. I don’t remember what that means, but this poses a problem for Cleavland. He goes to this old Korean lady to ask about it, and she says that Narphs are from an ancient Korean bedtime story, and explains that there is a Healer, a Guardian, a Guild, and an Interpreter. Cleaveland must find who these people are. He rounds up the people in the apartment complex in which the whole story is taking place, and explains his dilema. They all immediately believe him. They find who they believe to be the people that can help Story. But when they try to help her get to the eagle, it goes all wrong. So they have to rethink who the people are. And I would go farther into the ridiculous details, but I don’t want you to die a confusing death, so I won’t. The morale of this story is that M. Night Shylaman is losing his touch. I mean, my dog has thrown up things that would make more sense. Lady In The Water seems like one of those movies that was based off a good book, but the movie ruined it. But, no. This was just an awful movie. From the commericials, I thought it was going to be scary, but it was just... gay. It’s all Nicolas Cage’s fault.

Misadventure #3

There are certain things you can only learn from experience. Like, getting lost, or not cleaning your room for several months, or putting things that absolutely do not belong in tea, in tea. I did all three of those this weekend.
I will start with getting lost. Now, most of you who know me, know that generally, I'm fairly easy-going. I don't get stressed out over homework, or grades, or things like that. I generally know that no matter what happens, I'm going to be okay. However, I have one deep set fear that doesn't leave me: getting lost. As you would expect, this is a pretty large problem for me. I don't really pay attention to where I'm going, 99.96% of the time. This leads to awkward run-ins with fat people. This, however, was not the case. This was just carelessness. I had given my phone to my Dad, so that we could call him after we were done shopping. (Gabbie had her phone.) I did not check to see if my cell phone was on before I gave it to him. So, when we were ready to leave, I called him only to hear my annoying voice, telling me to leave a message. This posed a rather large problem: We needed to find my Dad, and we had no idea of where he was, and he didn't know we were looking for him. This threw me into a mild panic attack. I mean, I knew, that eventually, I would find him. But... I still got all freaked out. I guess it's because I've been left behind before, and it frightened me to a new level. We then went on the epic search for William Pressnall. Now, we weren't really, lost, per se. We knew where we were, but, just not where my father was. Of course, after several calls to my Mom, an awkward conversation with a Mall Cop, we found him. Sitting on a bench in his gray plaid Vans. Looking very helpless trying to work my cellphone.
I'm going to skip not cleaning my room. You can probably guess what that looks like. So I'll go on to my tea. Yesterday, I had a sore throat, and I was looking for a quick, medicine-less cure for it. I was going to get a cough drop out of the pantry, when I spotted some tea. We usually have random assortments of tea at all times, I just don't drink it. I don't like or dislike it. But I was rather in the mood for it, so I looked at the different options I had: Lemon Lovers, Orange and Spice, Cinnamon Apple, Cozy Chamomile, Sweet Dreams, Mint, Vanilla Caramel, and Green Tea. The deceptive thing about tea, is that mostly, they all taste the same. So it doesn't really matter which one you choose. I chose Orange and Spice, only because it smelled good. My brother walked in and wanted tea also, since I was making it. He chose Vanilla Caramel. When it was ready, I tasted mine, only to find that I was very disappointed. It tasted like neither Orange nor Spice. But then again, I didn't really expect it to. So I was sitting there, with my orange colored dirty water, wondering how I could make it better. I looked in our cupboards and found a few ingredients to add to my flavorless tea. Among them were honey, sugar, cinnamon, and lemon juice. I added all of them, but when I added the honey, it poured out too fast, and I had a little too much. "No matter," I thought. Meanwhile, my brother had put Vanilla-Hazelnut-Caramel coffee creamer in his. It was quite tasty. I figured the same logic would apply to my tea. I did not. I poured rather liberal amounts of creamer into my already altered tea. I was disgusted to see that the honey and the tea had congealed together to make it look like bits of half eaten bread were floating around in my tea. It was like a cesspool of souls, swirling around, waiting for me to save them. It was just not a good idea, at all.

On a completely unrelated note: I'm going to start something new. It's called Adrienne's Seal Of Unnecessary. If I give something or someone the ASU, then that item is not crucial for the betterment of the world. Today, that item is: dog clothes.
We received this magazine regarding pet products. I like looking at what crazy pet people buy for their precious animals, so I was flipping through it when I came across an intriguing page. There was a small, rather cute, dog in a two piece sweater set. The caption underneath read: TURN YOUR DOG INTO A YUPPIE PUPPIE! Now, I think that little jeweled collars, or little bows to put in your dogs hair, is kind of totally cute. Granted, you understand that the dog probably doesn't give a shit. Also, if your dog will wear them, Halloween costumes for dogs are pretty cute too. What's unnecessary is when you shove your dog into outfits everyday. I mean, if your dog has a wardrobe as large as you do, somethings wrong. Very wrong. Do you think Mr. Rexykins really enjoys being stuffed into unnatural cloth coverings, and being forced to keep them on? I don't think so. I can understand if they have some sort of medical condition in which their fur is not enough protection from the cold. Or if they are Siberian Sled Dogs. But if you just put your dogs in clothes, because you can, I don't like you. I understand that maybe, you have a show dog, and you need to keep it's fur protected from the harsh elements. But... seriously... a yuppie puppie? I bet all the other dogs make fun of dogs who are made to wear things. They're all like "Hey, look at the fag in the purple sweater!" "Oh, I'm sorry, do you think you're better than us, because you wear clothes like a human?" Save your dog from the uncomfortableness, and humiliation.

Band is tommorow. Maybe we'll find out our chair order... maybe we won't...

Misadventure #2

School is finally out. I haven't done anything productive. And I find myself in a perpetual state of tiredness. This is summer. And I like it.

Yesterday, to escape the premature onset of summer-boredom, Sarah, Gabbie and I went to go see Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. (From here on abbreviated as POTC or "Pirates"). Now, what I find odd, is that I have seen exactly two commercials for it. You'd figure that a money-making movie such as that would have as many advertisements as possible. But no. So I walk into this movie, not really knowing what to expect. I was also hoping for an Order of the Phoenix trailer, but I was gravely disappointed. However, there was a Transformers trailer, which is almost as good. I love Optimus Prime. Anyways, the movie started rather morbidly. A little boy was being hanged. Then we make the "seamless" transition to Elizabeth Swan boating somewhere in Singapore. Then we meet Sao Feng, the evil Singaporean pirate warlord. Apparently, he has this map that was not very well explained, but I guess it led to wherever Jack was. Then they fight, and finally a Singaporean crew accompanies them to go save Jack. Now, it is never very well established where Jack actually is, but I assume he's in "Davey Jones' Locker", which is.... I don't know. Meanwhile, the East India Company has Davey Jones' heart, and are using it as "leverage" to make him do what the East India Company (EIC) wants. Then we have this "Pirate Brethren Court" thing meeting. and all the pirate lords are going to be there, and the EIC wants to know where it is. Okay, so we've got that, AND we learn that "Tia Dalma" who is that scary black lady with black lips, is Calypso, and that the Pirate Brethren bound her to human form. And she was in love with Davey Jones. And Will wants to rescue his Dad. And like, eighty other things.

Which leads me to the problem that I have with this movie. There are too many plot twists. It's like the writers were sitting in a room, and they all had ideas for what they wanted to happen in the movie, and they were all arguing about whose idea was better, and finally someone yelled "LET'S USE ALL OF THEM!" And so they did. This means there was no time to explain what was going on. It was just one thing after another. Not only that, but I don't speak pirate. So, even if they did explain it, I wouldn't have heard it. Also, everybody was double crossing everybody to the point where it was just silly. And then of course, we have Keith Richards, who played Jack's Dad. There really wasn't a reason for him being there. Like, they invented the part just so Mr. Richards would have a part. Which is dumb. He should stick to being old, snorting his fathers ashes, and just being Keith Richards. Not pretending to be a pirate.

And if that wasn't enough, at the end, there was a shameless segway to the FOURTH movie. I really thought this was it. I mean "At World's End". I just think it is time for this franchise to fade away. Sure, the next movie comes out in like 2010, which is when I graduate. And by that time, the whole Pirate-Craze will have died off.

Oh yeah, and Will is the new captain of the Dutchman after Davey Jones' dies.

Misadventure #1

Okay, first I have a small confession:

I am totally in love with Harry Potter. (The books, not like, Daniel Radcliffe... ew)

Yes, yes, I know. I know it's silly. I know it's not real, and never will be. I know it's super nerdy. I don't care. This may (or may not) come as a shock to you. It is definitely a shock to me. I vowed that I would never, ever read those books. I was a natural born "indie kid". I never did anything anyone else did. I purposefully did things against what 2nd grade society said was cool. I didn't like Sponge Bob. I didn't like Lisa Frank. And I most certainly did not read Harry Potter. I was never going to. Until recently. See, the majority of my friends have read at least four of the books. They make references to it, talk about it, listen to PodCasts about it. I, usually, did not know or care what they were talking about. One day, I was making fun of them for reading it, and Sarah said: "Adrienne, you ARE going to read those books. And you ARE going to like it." Now, reading them would go against my internal indie code. But I did. And I loved it. They are very addicting, and consequently, I stay up very late reading them. I am on the 5th book, The Order Of The Phoenix. I was up till 1:07am reading the Chapter titled "The Eye of The Snake". 9:00 came very, very early. I staggered out of bed, and into clothes, somehow. I grabbed my precious book, and trudged to the car. I read all the way to church. After church my parents had a two hour board meeting, so I sat in my car, and read. As you can plainly see, HP is my heroine. I need my fix. In fact, I'm thinking about not finishing this, so that I can go read.

Anyways, after my Dad was done with the board meeting, he decided it was high-time he got new shoes. He gets new shoes every four years, and wears them till they're beyond recognition. So we (just me and him) drive to Stonebriar. Upon entering Nordstrom, I am very tempted to go Adrienne-shopping. I really need new shoes. And buying shoes for my Dad isn't fun. It's either black or brown. Usually I slip-on loafer type shoe, with tough soles, and cushy insoles. Usually made of leather. That is his criteria. Very boring. So, we look around and he finds some nice black leather Timberline brand shoes. Very plain. Very Dad.

Because my Dad is as bad, if not worse when it comes to talking to store people, I have to do it for him. So I walked over to the nearest tall, nicely dressed, shoe fitter guy (I'm sure there's a technical name...) and tell him "My Dad has shoes he needs to try on." He very eagerly lead my Dad to a chair, and measured his foot. At this point I realized my mistake in picking which guy to help us. He was the epitome of obnoxious. Think Jim Carey, trying to sell you shoes. Times 10. That obnoxious. He was talking at my Dad in a very "you're silly, and I don't take you seriously, but I'd really like commission on your shoes, so I'm going to try to be so very polite and charming" way. But it came off all wrong. He looked like he had an extreme foot fetish, and touched my Dad's feet, at every opportunity. It was weird. Then he ran back to grab the shoes. He returned with a few boxes. He found the pair he liked, and then turned to me and said: "Hey, you know Wes's shoes? How about I get some like that as well, you know, for drumming." He was referring to my brother's Vans. Now, I find nothing wrong with a silly forty-four year old man, who is convinced he's seventeen wearing slip-on Vans. You might. So when "Jim" (that's what I'm going to call him) came back, my Dad asked for the black Vans. Jim brought back 3 boxes this time. There were no black ones in size eleven and a half, so he thought the gray plaid ones would be "fun". (He said "these are so fun" at least twelve times). My Dad liked them, and he bought them, and has been wearing them ever since. This all adds up to my theory that my Dad never grew up. Which is fine, really.

Then we gathered up my family, and went to Rockfish. I don't much care for seafood, but I knew for a fact that Rockfish has chicken, so I would be okay. Also, I know Lindsay Fyffe works/worked there, and she is very sweet, and it would be nice to see her. However, Lindsay was not there. But someone else was: Tai Krause. I really cannot explain my fear of Tai, because you really have to experience it firsthand. The fat poking, the calling you Sad Girl, the humiliation of being seen with Tai. It's all very... awful. Anyway, the absolute last person I want to see anywhere outside of school is Tai. And there he was, staring at me. That's all he did. Constant staring. I was very, very, paranoid. When he finally left, I explained to my family who the weird boy across the room who was looking at me was. They didn't seem to understand. But that's okay. I didn't expect them to.

After that whole episode, I went to Guitar Center with my Dad to get a microphone cable. That man would spend sixteen years in that store, if he could. He plays with all the basses, guitars, drums, keyboards, mixers, everything. While I was sitting on an amp listing to him play bass, a cocky twentysomething kid came up with his bass. He plugged it into an amp, and turned it up as loud as he could. He then proceeded to play low, bellowing notes, that shook the corner we were in. Not in any particular rhythm or pattern, just low obnoxious notes. This was highly aggravating my Dad, and we left. We only spent an hour there, which I think is our new record.

Well... I'm going to go... read... now.

Shut up.