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.

Almost Summer

The Worst Time of Year is about to begin: The week before school gets out. Everyone is anxious, annoying, and probably very tired. No one wants to do school anymore. Few people have more than 2 exams, and there is very little reason why I'm getting up at 7:30 to go to that place. If you find watching hackneyed Disney movies educating, and worthwhile, you should be shot.

I have made it through eight and a half months of "school". I didn't really learn anything. Oh, wait, I did learn how to color. More than 50% of all my homework assignments involved coloring. Why? Because Ms. Bodner is... great. If you have her (or even if you don't) you know she is clinically insane, or on massive amounts of Vicodin, or something, because that woman is crazy. There have been very few times in my scholastic career that I have actually wished death upon a teacher. Ms. Bodner is one of them. Here is a typical conversation you would probably have with The Bodnerator.

You: I need to turn in my plant lab.
B: Okay, but it's going to be late.
You: But I was at UIL.
B: You should have turned it in early.
You: But I can't do it the day you gave it to us...
B: That is your responsibility, not mine.
You: That's mildly unfair.
B: You are being disrespectful, and I will not stand for that. You need to come after school to fill out a behavior slip.
You: What?
B: I will not discuss this any longer.
You: Fine... (at this point, you realize it is a futile effort to argue.)
B: I like puppies. They are cute!

No, really, that is actually something that would happen. No exaggeration whatsoever. I'm am thoroughly relieved to know I will never have to talk to her again. Unless there is some awkward run-in, in which we both pretend we don't despise one another, and talk about how nice the weather is. And then I'd find any opportunity to leave, and rather quickly.

Which reminds me.

A few days ago, I went with my brother to get his haircut. The reason for me being there was because he usually gets way too much cut off, and then looks really awkward for a month or two. I needed to correctly explain how I (it's more about me than him, really) wanted it cut.
Because we were at the mall, I decided I'd kill some time going shopping. I mean, the mall is kinda... lame, but I will never pass up an opportunity to look at shoes I will never buy. So, I'm going around, looking at things, you know, shopping. And everything is fine; as long as there is someone else in the store besides the store owner. When there isn't it is particularily awkward. I walked into a small shoe store, and was looking at Steve Madden black patent flats, which I need, but cannot buy, and the lady working there continues to talk to me.
(Yes, I know this is the second conversation I've put here, but it's so much easier this way.)

Lady: Hello!
Me: Hi.
Lady: Is there anything I could help you find? A style or color you're looking for?
Me: No, not right now. I'm just looking.
Lady: (Mildly disheartened) Oh. Okay.

and a few minutes pass by. And I start eyeing some Nine West white, pointed toe heels. She comes back over and says

Lady: We have some clearance items over there.
Me: Okay.
(Awkward silence)
Lady: Would you like to try those on?

at this time I realized this was the perfect time to make my escape.

Me: Yes, I would. I'm a size 8.

then the lady went to the back. I grabbed my purse, and ran out of the store. Now, any normal person would have just left. But that's not how I am. I would have felt bad if I would have walked out while she was ambushing me with her questions. What really bothered me about that whole scene was, is it not normal for people to just, you know, look? Do people not do that anymore? Maybe it was because I was by myself. Normally I'm with Nancy or Sarah, or someone. I guess they thought I was lonely and really wanted to buy something. I don't know. The point is: I don't like talking to people I wouldn't normally talk to. Like store owners, or cashiers, or teachers, or doctors, or secretaries, or receptionists, or librarians. And more than anything, I hate asking them things. That is basically saying: "Hello, would you please talk to me?" And no. I do not want to talk to them.

Anyways, this summer, I will be going to the Funmazing State of... NEBRASKA! You've probably fainted from shock at the idea of spending lengthy amounts of time there. The jealousy has plauged you. Not only will I be going for my family reunion, I will also be going for a week for my birthday. By myself. With my grandparents. If the jealousy hadn't already caused you to renounce your religion, it will now. I will keep you updated on all of my fabulous mishappenings on this blog. Ew. I hate calling it a blog. I feel so hipster. Oh well.

Cyincally Yours,

Adrienne