I'm angsty and like emo.

Remember when I set the whole world on fire with my eyes? That was now.

School is a waste of time. Whoever told me that senior year is easy/fun is a big ol' liar. So I don't like you, liar. So far I've done one out of my eight college applications, and keep telling myself I still have a month to do them. Plus, I have a stupid research paper on the holocaust, and I desperately want my last line to be "So, the final solution was to drop out of school." I'm pretty sure my academic career could be ruined by the nazis considering the tests, quizzes, and papers I've done on them so it makes sense.

Right so that's my rant.

Onto cool things I dig: footy pajamas. It's too bad you all can't purchase them for yourself, but I spotted them while shopping in Target. At first I said, what kid this big would wear footy pajamas, and then I thought who else but me! It seems as though they're unavailable now, but you shuld bask at their greatness, and think to your self, man I wish my pajama pants had feet on them.

Why was the blog dead?

I blame it on two people: Sarah and Anne. You see, you may not know this about our blog, but all our very best material comes from IM. Someone says something funny, the other person says, "you should post that on the blog", they do, end of story.

You know what kills IMs? Real conversation. And you know what? No matter how much we laugh about Steven's Great BIG Book of Fake Religious Facts, neither you nor I will take the time to write it up and post it to the blog.

Ask yourself, does it seem like a coincidence that Jane posted ONCE while Sarah was here? It's no coincidence. Sarah was sucking up all your blogs for her greedy little self! And what about Anne? That whole house of hers can probably keep you in stitches all the live long day about the funny things Mary did and said while she was down there, but did she have time to gab it up on IM? She had too many "events" to go to.

And I, of course, get to spend all my days with Mr. Anger Management, who's busy fighting the man and ranting about injustice in the world. Try making a joke about that stuff, and the best you can hope for from him:

"That's not funny; that's inappropriate."

Rejoice, Mary! You need not wake at 3:55 any more!

Recent executive branch members and/or chiefs of staff who do not have law degrees:

Madeleine Albright
Al Gore
Dick Cheney
Andrew Card
George H.W. Bush
John Sununu
Jimmy Carter

Actually, that's not entirely true. Madeleine has an honorary degree, but I told you to wait for one of those anyway.

Bah Humbug, Make those Stupid Lawn Ornaments Go Away!

It's that time of year again. The time when people start littering the streets with illuminated crap. I know lots of people like Christmas lights. But lights, people, are not the problem. The problem is animatronic reindeer, entire villages on front lawns, and my new current bane, INFLATABLE illuminated crap. Why have a plastic Santa the size of a small child when you could have an inflated Santa the size of your whole house?

When driving around Ridley Park this weekend in search of a shanty town (note: shanty town located! 15 tents and a roaring bonfire at the end of a street? All you need is some corrugated tin, and you've got everything you need.), we stumbled upon one of those blocks where the entire neighborhood seems to be competing for the largest electricity bill on the block. The most favored item on this block? Illuminated candy canes! Who even wants illuminated candy canes? They are the stupidest of all lawn ornaments, and I hate them.

But the only thing I hate more is Steven.

The End

How to look adorable

I'm on a new quest, to look just as adorable as Zooey Deschanel. It's doable. I've decided that although those bangs are cute, the would require me to blow dry them so they aren't all crazy-like, but Helen believes I just need the perfect product. So I'm gonna get the bangs a.) because I'm me and get bored very quickly by my hair and b.) I want to look cute as a button too. So you, children of the night, tell me what product works for you.

P.S. I'm not made out of money, let's not pretend.