Holeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee crap! Christmas is come and gone and boy was it sweet. I know you want a list of everything I got, I just know it.

-Kelly Rowland CD
-The Truth About Charlie soundtrack (the whole thing kicks much tush, except for ooooooooooone song, which isn't even average, or OK, but really REALLY stinky. Tis bizarre)
-A fun fluffy white hat that I've been wearing nearly non stop since.
-matching hat, gloves, and superlong scarf
-Junior Mints lip balm (I know, it's weird, but I've figured out the greater purpose. I used it all day today and when Daddy picked me up from work I made him take me to Dominics and buy me a king-sized package of the actual candy)
-Lots of very cute shirts... and Eimile got some cute pants, so we've been stealing stuff from each other every once in a while.
-A cute kids' book of fake IDs from Eimile.
-A young adult book about mermaids from Eimile
-A doll of Lain in her bear suit. Yay!
-The entire box set of Grand Theft Auto soundtracks. That's right-- I'm rockin' to the eighties.
-Three sets of PJs from various grandparents. I love them. LOVE I tell you.
-The usual suspects, AKA gift certificates to Blockbuster and Borders and Delias.
-Harvest Moon: Save the Homeland. That's right, the long-awaited sequel to the world's most popular farming-simulation game. I love it. It's in 3D and has cel-shading. Score. Although there is this one guy who wanders around in khakis and he calls himself a "plant Hunter" with only the h capitalized. He's WEIRD >O_o<. Weston and I have eschewed the obvious joke that would make him the Croc hunter, and instead have branded him the Hitler Youth of the town. We speak his lines in German accents and punctuate every second sentence with "Hail Hitler." Don't ask us why this is funny. It just is.
-A baggie full of scrunchies and a "book thong" from Drea. I don't know why. I don't want to know why. It just is.
Ok, that's about all I can be bothered to remember. Sorry. I can tell you that I got no socks and underwear, and that's a disappointment because that's what I really wanted.

I can now happily tell you that I am wart-free. You probably did not know this. You probably did not want to know this. Well, that's just TOO BAD. Anyways, I had one in my nose (which the doctor assures me is a very common spot for the little buggers, apparently) and now it's gone, so to show my mum, who had been following its progress with a disturbing interest, I stuck her finger in my nostril (I have had this weird fixation on sticking fingers in noses lately, and it's only been getting worse. God only knows why). Dad was like, "Ew." And I was all, "Well, she wanted to know if it was gone." And he was all, "You are your mother's daughter." Mum didn't seem to mind, but this is the woman who amuses herself by licking our ears when we're not paying attention to her.

At the Gardens we have these little martini olive floating candles. They're really cheap looking and their package bears the charming slogan: They get lit while you get lit!
Urgh. Also, I saw a little mousey-shmousey in the back room. It left little mousey foot prints on our coffee cake. I didn't know whether to think it was cute or disgusting.

Have you ever tried to comprehend everything at once? It hurts my brain to think that RIGHT NOW, as I sit here: the universe is expanding forever into infinity, stars are dying and being born, the moon moves around the earth moves around the sun moves around the solar system cruises the universe, the continent are sliding across the surface of the earth, being crushed and melted into lava on one side and restored on the other, the earth rotates, the tides rise and fall, little cells in my body are breaking down all the stuff in my food to make sure I keep going for a while, I'm taking in the light bouncing off everything and turning it into pictures, nothing actually HAS color, it just reflects certain colors of the spectrum, light is part particle, part wave, and radio waves, microwaves, new wave music is travelling through the air, through the wall, through me, and the music I'm listening to is vibrating my ears so I hear them and zillions of people are going about their business without knowing or caring that I exist, and vice versa, and ARGH! It hurts, it hurts. I'll stop while I'm still reasonably sane.

I burned a CD of some of my MP3s for Mum, and she let Drea listen to it. Drea apparently finds it very odd that I find it perfectly acceptable to put Eartha Kitt, the Jackson 5, and Areosmith on the same CD, let alone right next to one another. She should take a look at what I DIDN'T burn for Mum.

I made fudge. It's yummy. I feel very good because I finally paid off my massive Christmas debt to mum, and I've got some fat checks coming my way because I've worked Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Friday, and today, and I'll be working tomorrow, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday again. Wow. Just looking at that makes me tired. Especially since I'll be working BOTH places tomorrow. Sob.

I've just been reading some of my old posts and I realized something: I'm actually reasonably funny. I mean, this whole time I've been thinking that people have been lining up to read a load of random brain-dribblings, but in retrospect, I can be quite clever. Who knew? Other than you, I mean. Oh, do shut up.

I went into Brandes' office on Friday to see if I could join Advanced Crafts, but if I did, I would have to switch into Neumark's French 5, and that's like requesting to be moved from Heaven to Hades, only Neumark's room is cold, not hot. Good lord, that man is disgusting. He smelled, and he kept the windows open and a fan going at all times, even in January. We must have watched that classic of classics, Cajun Cousins about six times, and don't even get me started on the Bob Hope special. He was also some kind of inhuman freak, as he didn't like the smell of coffee or chocolate. He didn't trust computers, so he did all his tests and suchlike on his typewriter, which he kept on his desk in a garbage bag. I'm talking about him as if he's dead. Well, he is dead. DEAD TO ME!!!!!

Ahem.

What is the...er...wossname?....watusi? I think that's how it's spelled. All I know about it is that it's a dance, and seems to require tight pants. Batman had his own version. You'll never guess what it was called... the BATusi. Hahahahaha, d'you get it...? Cuz, y'know...he's a bat, see? Yeah.

Kulsoom, if you're out there, you have to download "Blame It On The Boogie." HAVE TO. Right now, go on.

Talking of downloading, I'm getting some more Mr T Experience songs. Now witness the mighty might of:
-I Love You, But You're Standing On My Foot
-Swiss Army Girlfriend
-We Hate All The Same Things

And I'm reminded, now that I think of it, of something else when I look at "Swiss Army Girlfriend." At the Gardens we have these things called "Grow-A-Girl/Boy Friend." I think they were originally meant for Valentine's, as they come in pink, red, and white packages, but we've got them out now because they supposedly make great stocking stuffers (???... more like suffers). They're like those little rubber dinosaurs you put in water, and they grow, only they're people in tight clothing instead of reptiles. The guy's supposed to look buff, but he looks like a child's drawing of an erotic superhero (although I pray God that there are no children out there drawing erotic superheroes, because that would be WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG). He's got a sixpack with perfect 90 degree angles, and, like, matador pants, and knee high boots (although they look like space boots). And the woman's supposed to look, I don't know, zaftig or something, but she just looks like she's got a load of flab hanging out her thong. And she has no neck. And the blister packaging is really too small for the figures, so they end up in weird contortions like they were in a nasty accident or got in a fight with a tree or something. And when you do put them in water, they become even more grotesque. We have one each of the man and the woman floating about in a vase near their display boxes, and it looks like Sunset Boulevard in minature. But that's not the weird part. The weird part is that they're selling like hot cakes, or funnel cakes, or light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel cakes, or something. The Grow-A-Boyfriend box is nearly empty. C'est sique. No, that's not the French word for sick. But it's funny. I just wrote bur instead of but, like, 4 times. Sigh.

If anyone was tolerating me today during lunch, it is only because I have the common sense to befriend relatively patient, tolerant people. This morning, during gym, Amy and I were jamming because the tape Mr Sopha (Sofa?) put in started off with Michael (or is it Micheal? I can never remember, which, I'm aware, is retarded) Jackson, but then cut off. So we were complaining in the locker room about what a rip off it was that we had been denied MJ, and Jill had the NERVE to say she was glad it stopped, because when it first came on, she thought her eardrums might start to bleed. She and Eliza proceeded to claim that System of a Down was superior to the King of Pop, on the grounds that Mike's a freak of nature. Amy and I admitted that yes, over the years, the cheese has slipped off his cracker, but you have to think of the MOVES and the MUSIC. So Eliza and I were discussing this reasonably calmly (for us), and Amy and Jill were having what can only be described as a shouting match over it. The incident ended when Jill announced the air in the locker room was decidedly "obnoxious" and left. Anyways, at lunch, I was bemoaning this, along with the fact that Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and others of the Harry Potter cast might be eliminated from future movies because they're getting too old for it (WTF?!), along with the fact that Kulsoom is just now getting around to reading book 3 of HP. I was sobbing over all these things alternately, and the fact that I do not have a pencil buried in my forehead right now is testament to mes amis and their unending patience for me.

Actually, I'm quite cross with Jill, because I don't exactly see eye to eye with her on her artwork either. She made this very beautiful clay figurine of a pregnant lady with her back hollowed out, which I thought was very cool and not at all representative of anything, which I like. Art is very cool when it doesn't mean anything. I don't mean landscapes and pictures of puppies and that crap. It can be unusual... I just loose interest or even get resentful if I think the artist is trying to force something on me. Anyway, I liked it right up until she carved some song lyrics about abortion on the lady's belly and glazed her black. And y'all know how I feel about abortion alone. Grrrrrrrr. So now she's working on an angel with her front all hollowed out. I liked that, too... then she took a big chunk out of the angel's head, and plans to wrap what remains in barbed wire, and write a quote about dreams on this one. Kulsoom tried to...er...calm me down, I guess, by pointing out that it's a nice quote (that I don't remember), but the way Jill's set up the figure completely perverts the intention of the quote. And Jill said to me "I don't expect you to understand my art." Which kind of pissed me off because it's not that I don't understand it, I just don't appreciate it. There's a difference. So Jill and I aren't getting along right now, I guess. What's funny is that Kulsoom told Mrs. Doucette that Jill had gotten me mad, and Mrs. D was like, "How did you manage THAT?" Because apparently people don't think I get mad. I do. I just keep it bottled up inside until I can get to my Playstation and Dead or Alive 2. HYAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Mum and Dad should have learned by now that you cannot leave strange cars in the driveway without a note, or else I'll panic. Today I got home to an unfamiliar van, so I decided to call Mum to ask her about it. But her line at work was apparently being worked on... and no one answered the cell phone... and then the phone rang, but nothing came up on the caller ID, not even "Unknown" or whatever, and there was no one on the other end... so I decided to call Dad... but it said the number had been disconnected... so the first thing that comes to mind is: a psycho killer has eliminated Mum and Dad is now in the house, waiting for me. Before I panicked and called 911 or something, I stood with my back to the front door, (so I could see if anyone was sneaking up from the basement, or out of the garage, or coming from upstairs) and tried Dad's number one more time. Turns out Mum's hanging out with a friend, and they just left the other person's car here for now, and I had probably mis-dialed Dad's number before. But really. They should know better, since this is not the first time I've reached the "logical" conclusion that a mad axe-man has exterminated my family and is now after me.

Ok, today's entire entry makes me sound very mentally unbalanced, so I'll quit now while I'm not in any padded rooms.

So I was sick yesterday. I was fine through gym, but as soon as I sat down in French, I got this strange, sudden urge to start yodeling.

Well, that and a bad headache. i don't know if they're related. Studies will have to be done.

Apparently, this is a collaboration blog between me and a giant whale named Snickers. She doesn't quite fit in the art room, and she does smell a bit fishy, but she's got a heart of gold.

So, yesterday, I decided that my singing talents were needed elsewhere, and without telling poor Chris where I was going, I left the school. But that was only because the donut I ate for breakfast made a bid for freedom... and succeeded. Donuts are intrinsically evil, have you noticed that? Either they go flying, as in my case yesterday, or they stick to your thighs like supah' glue! Although I've met one or two who simply do interpretive dance.

Chris is apparently surprised that Other Brad is nice to me. I am surprised that I haven't thrown my arms around him and dyed his hair blue. That boy really needs a change of style. I'm thinking: London Punk Rocker circa 1979. But first I think I need to work out what his last name is.

The other day Chris, Em, and I were wondering what a collaboration story between the three of us would be like, since the one Em and I did turned out to be about rogue Canadians kidnapping the President and holding him ransom for eleventeen pounds of refried beans, which had to be recovered from a hoard of angry Minnesotan housewives by the main character, who never had a name, who dressed as an Avon lady to do so, and tended to put weird things in his bra, like a crowbar. That's one heck of an underwire.

Yesterday I had some blue Gatorade. It tasted like blue. Then I had some clear, "orange" flavored Gatorade. It tasted minty. Urgh. That might be the cause of my uncontrollable stomach spasms... it suddenly decided to train for the olympics... javelin toss.

Julia gave me this big pile of buttons for Christmas. A lot of them identify me as the one and only Caitlin, just in case there's any confusion.

This blog was brought to you by Caitlin (Gustav), Chris (Maurice), and Pop Rocks.

The problem with wanting more people to visit me here is that I'm running out of people I can safely complain about. JOKE! Joke.
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...Please don't kill me.

Amy's life seems particularly complicated right now. Although I've never been in the same boat and likely never will be, I feel for her. Don't ask me about it, though. I don't think it's any of my business. Nor should you. So forget I said anything.

It never fails to amaze me when I check on the site now, and discover people actually drop by on a regular basis. I think I'm getting about 15 people every day or two, which is cool. I love you guys. Except for you. Yeah, you: bottom left, far seat. I hate you. Get out of here. Jerk.

Yeah. I'm making new friends and its weird. I'm used to having a handful of really good friends, and maybe one or two semi-friends. All of a sudden, I've got all these people who are willing to talk to me, for whatever reason. It's nice, until this time of year rolls around, because I want to buy everyone THE COOLEST GIFT EVER, and end up blowing a zillion dollars per person.

The amount of will power it takes not to post what I've gotten for everyone for Christmas is overwhelming. I must remember to be whelmed.

Oh, yeah. Eliza's new name is Nikolas. You must all call her that now, to cause confusion and frustration. In a related story, I now call my little sister PéPé and she calls me Gustav. So feel free to use those in casual conversation, too. For example:
"Well, hello, Nikolas, how are you?"
"Just peachy, Gustav. And you?"
"Shut up, jerk."

Only not really.

I got a complaint from Mum because she didn't appreciate Santa-Zim's jolly boot of doom. Poo on her. I expect next she wants me to post a public apology to her light-up angel.

Quote of the Day:
"I got carried out of the church by my mom's ex-boyfriend and everyone could see my undies."
-Eliza, AKA Nikolas, recounting her mum's wedding for Coleen

Er, so the other day (maybe yesterday?), Brad (not other Brad, Brad-Brad) gave me some Pocky and I was very happy so I was hopping. We had the following conversation (of sorts). Keep in mind that I am hopping up and down and talking at about 5,000 miles per hour throughout this whole thing:
ME:Thank you thank you thank you! Yay!
BRAD: Uh, you're welcome.
ME: Hey Brad, guess what?
BRAD: Uh....
ME: I'm wearing a Steve Shirt! I love Steve; I'd marry him if I could! But I can't and do you know why?
BRAD: Er...
ME: Well, a lot of people think he's dead. They think he committed suicide or OD'ed but I know better! Steve's alive and he's started a band!
BRAD: snorts
Then I hop hop hopped away.

K, that's all the time I have for 5th period. Y'all come back now, y'hear?

Ok, so i was't sure if brad from humanities really was brad because there was another kid in my humanities class named brad and i wasn't sure and i didn't want to call him brad if he was, say, felix, because that would be really embarassing, so eliza said, why don't you just wait till his back is turned and say Hey Brad and if he answers, then he's brad, and if he doesn't then he's not and you can pretend you didn't say anything, but there's another boy in humanities named brad so, yeah.


but today Mr o called him brad so now i know.

yesterday was the invader zim christmas special! it was called the most horrible christmas ever and a robotic snowman was telling a bunch of orphans with weird british accents about zim learning the true meaning of christmas. so zim and gir are standing on the street, zim wearing a "human" suit (some weird thing with a big, bloated, vaguely humanoid head and a little name tag that reads "human") and trying to make "huuuuuuuman monies." he has this miniature flying purple moose with him, who he calls mini moose, and it has a collection tray on its head and makes high pitched squeaking noises. he tries to convince passing people to give him monies because of his dog's (gir's) incredible snow-eating trick. Only all he has in his plate are couple of rocks and a sammich, which he picks up, sniffs, and promptly throws away, declaring that tuna won't get him anything. then he notices all these santas on the street, with their bells and their collection buckets, so he kidnaps a mall santa and says "tell me all you know about these red-suited men who smell of ham and vomit!" and he learns about santa and builds a santa suit. he is instantly recognized as the true santa and is instated as the ruler of the world. he instructs people to gather at his polar rally to build a transporter that will take all humans to their doom, which they agree to do only after he assures them that it will be fun and christmas-y. Of course, dib tries to expose zim, but he dispells suspicions by pointing out that he has robotic elves. one ecstatic rally-attender shouts, just like in the stories! and dib is dragged off to jingle jail, which is a cage made of candy canes. dib breaks out because it's actual candy cane, but is captured again. later he is saved by gaz, and they run to their father, who promises to help them destroy santa, because he hates santa. in fact, outside his lab there's a sign that says, PROFESSOR MEMBRANE: FRIEND TO THE WORLD, ENEMY TO SANTA. at this point there's an intermission with the robo-snow dude and the orphans, and one little girl is pointing out all the plot holes and inconsistencies in the story, so the snow man picks her up, smiles at her, then stuffs her under the bed and continues the story. Zim's enjoying what is possibly his only success, but the santa suit slowly starts turning into the real santa because it's affected by all the christmas cheer. so it morphs into a gigantic santa-monster and begins its reign of destruction. dib and zim collaborate to shoot it into space. dib thinks he's finally shown the stupid throngs zim's evil nature, but zim then disquises himself as the easter platypus and promises easter shrimp to whoever helps him escape. the episode ends with the robotic snowman telling the orphans, "but you know, dib and zim were wrong; santa lives on."
"in our hearts and minds?" asks one adorable orphan.
"no, in space. and every year he returns to try and destroy us once again. that's why we live under this protective dome."
there is this huge BOOM sound. "why, that sound like santa now. raise the sheilds, children. ha ha ha" the final scene is the santa space beast gnawing on the domed city.
QUOTE OF THE WEEK:
DIB: wait! remember last year, when you all thought that escaped gorilla was santa?
AUDIENCE MEMBER: you mean it wasn't? ::starts sobbing::

hee hee

right, so in sealab 2021, there's an episode involving a "bebop cola" machine. apparently, it was supposed to be a jazz cola machine, but jazz cola wouldn't let sealab use its name. i just think the names of the drinks are funny:
Root Bird
Gilberto Grape
Artie Shawberry
Kiwi Holliday
Peachmo
John Cola-trane
Don Wild Cherry
Vince Guavaldi
Dave Bruberry
Cab Colaway
Dexterade
Rina Lemons
Mango Reinhardt
Getzberry
Fizzy Gillespie
Marian McPinapple
Or'ngette Coleman
Mingus Dew

then i watched Yu Gi Oh, that new kids' show... it was like some sort of hybrid from power rangers, pokemon, and digimon, and it was painful to watch. basically, it's an animated instruction manual for the card game. they talk even more in the middle of battles than power rangers and pokemon combined. ow.

today's entry is very tv-centric.

Yay!!!!!!!! I put up a counter so's I can see how many times people like to visit me, because I'm that self-absorbed.

How come no one can be bothered to email me? I've only gotten two, maybe three letters from you, dear readers. And they always read something like:
Hi! Blog was funny today. Yay you.
Love, Mum
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I know I'm cool cuz she tells me so.

I want to tell someone, "I thought I was in love with you, but it turns out I had a cold." It's from this hilarious episode of Love Hina. Yeah. So we were watching Kare Kano tonight (I love that thing like nothing else) and I'm starting to wonder about the characters. They worry me sometimes. Like the guy, Arima, befriends this dude, Asaba. Asaba's one goal in life is to be surrounded by beautiful women. He calls these girls his lovely lambs, his Marys. But after hanging out with Arima and his girlfriend Yukino (Arima's, not Asaba's), he realizes how stupid this is and gives it up to be a...er...beach bunny, really. Anyways, he ends up being best friends with Arima, and one day Yukino goes to Arima's house because his parents won't be home... but Asaba answers the door in his bathrobe. EEEEK! He slept over, apparently, but then tried to make Yukino think Arima had been making advances on him... hee hee. In another episode, the three of them are eating lunch together outside and Asaba pulls her aside to show her what he called his "most precious posession" in a really creepy voice. It turns outto be a photo that Arima gave him of himself at 4 years old or something. Asaba and Yukino think it's the cutest thing ever, but Arima claims he only gave it to him on the condition that Asaba take good care of it and never show it to anyone. Yukino steals it, licks it, and sticks it down her bra to prevent them from reclaiming it. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, that was funny. It might just be me, but I really can't figure out if Asaba's gay, or just really weird. Now my parents are preparing to forbid me from watching anime ever again, I can just tell.

There's this boy in my Humanities class whose name is Brad, but he's not the other Brad, who talks to me for no apparent reason. He's cool, though. Once he saw me in the hall and said "hi" and I tried to say hi back, but i had a mouth full of donut so it came out as "Blaugh". Oddly enough, he said he hadn't noticed when I apologized to him about it later. And another time, he said hi, and i didn't realize it was him, or that he was talking to me, until about 2 minutes later. I apologized about that, too. Anyway, today I walked into class and he said hey and stuck out his hand, so I gave him a high five. He said it was really good, since most girls give little wimpy slaps instead of a proper high five, and i was all proud. Then he taught me the follow-thru five, where you walk up to each other and do the five, but your arm keeps going and you do one more low five as you pass. I kept missing on the follow through >~.~< grrrr.....

In psych today we did a demonstration where some kids made soynut butter and jelly sammiches. (Hee hee, sammich). It was a weird way of explaining who was most susecptible to mental disorders. If you had low predisposition and low stress, you had two whole pieces of bread and all the time in the world to make your sandwich. If you had low stress but high disposition, you had no time limit, but your bread was torn into little sections. High predisposition and low stress meant whole bread and 30 second time limit, and high stress high disposition meant your bread was torn up and you had the time limit. Whoever made the most perfect sandwich was the most mentally sound. It was pretty funny, because the kid with the high/high situation just threw everything in a lump, stabbed his plastic knife through the lot, and impaled one of the pieces of bread on the handle.

We did this one demonstration where kids threw tennis balls across the room while wearing glasses that shifted their vision by 45 degrees. One kid was catching them with one hand, instantly. It looked like he was calling the balls to his hand with The Force. It was beautiful, man.

I actually have been getting up early enough to get my makeup on and my contacts in. I feel pretty. Not only that, but I did all my homework last night, AND I got to bed by 10. I'm like superman.

The more I hang out with Brad (not Humanities/High 5 Brad, the other one), i become more aware of just how much Japanese I've casually picked up over the years. It's cool. I can't help but be impressed with myself. Yay me!

I love watching Sealab 2021 on Adult Swim. One of my favorite episodes is when Stormy tries to differentiate between the two Debbies on board by calling them "Debbie" and "Black Debbie" respectively. The other crew members get really pissed at him about it, since he always mentions "Black Debbie" in a whisper.
QUINN: Why don't you call one Debbie and the other White Debbie?
STORMY: laughs That's stupid; I know she's white.
SPARKS: Ok, then how about we call YOU White Stormy?
STORMY: You means there's a... lowers voice Black Stormy? (this is especially funny, he sounds really amazed/confused at this. Stormy's a total idiot)

I know, liking that scene is totally atypical of me, but I start cackling whenever I even think about it. HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHhahahahhahaaahahahha... eh... ahem. Yes. Cheerio.

Okay, I had two really weird dreams I've only just remembered, so here goes:

Dream #1
I was walking out into the school parking lot to meet Amy when Artemis Fowl pops up and starts to chat with me. We small talk for a while, then two kids from school walk up to us and say they want to kidnap Artemis. Being very defensive of my friends (since when was Artemis my friend?) I tell them they have to go through me first. So they kidnap me, too. They stuck us in this minivan that looked quite like Tobey, Eliza's van. Then they took off. At one point, we get to an intersection. One street sign reads "Mile Ahead" and the one perpendicular to it says "Mile Starts Here." I'd like to point out that this intersection has appeared in my dreams more than once, signs and all. At this point, our kidnappers become quite confused, so Artemis and I use it to out advantage and escape. We end up running up to this HUGE castle, which Artemis tells me is the college he's always wanted to go to. There are statues on giant pedestals everywhere, but instead of lions or people or something, they're of fish. And famous American Colonialists, I think. This "college" has also appeared in previous dreams. So we're wandering around outside, Artemis giving me the dime tour, when a security guard spots us and starts chasing us. We run inside. The entryway thing looks like the ones you get in old buildings in Chicago: green tile mosaics of Indian chiefs, that sort of thing. But further inside, it looks like a mall. Tons of guards are chasing us now, and we're doing everything we can to keep away from them; going up and down escalators, going up and down elevators, going up and down ramps, going up and down stairs...Everytime a guard caught up to Artemis, he had a tendency to end up falling over the railings to a squishy death below (the guard, not Artemis). Neither Artemis nor I are remotely concerned with his strange effect on Rent-A-Cop gravity. Eventually we get away from them and go back outside... and come across a giftshop. I think I see Brad in one of the windows, and I tell Artemis I want to go in. So we do, only Brad's not there. Artemis takes me back outside, but I'm all bummed, so he tries to make me feel better. When I turn around, Brad's back in the window. So we run back in. He is in there, but as soon I reach him, Artemis disappears. I don't seem to mind. Brad and I browsed through the giftshop (another returning dream scene), which contains a lot of anime stuff, but it's like all my favorites have combined to create weird hybrids or something. I look around some more, and there's my family. They are talking to the lady who runs the gift shop. When I go up to them, they tell me it's time to go, and Brad disappears. We walked out the door and the dream ended.

Dream #2:
I hang out a double skate park, where I...er...skate. There's two: girls' and boys'. Only they're not parks, they're raised pavilions. The girl one is smaller, but the fence around it is a pretty white trellis with ivy and it's paved in marble (O_o). All my friends skate there. The boy one is big, but the fence is rusty iron bars and it's paved in concrete. There's a little bridge connecting them, and the fences are at waist height on the bridge sides, instead of about eight feet tall. I hang out with my friends on the girl side, but eventually I fall in love with a boy skater and start hanging on his side with him (he does not resemble Monsieur Pei Pei in the least). All my friends are pretty pissed about it, but what are you going to do? Anyway, one day....THE SKATE PARK CATCHES FIRE!!!!!! The bridge between the two pavillions burns down, and a huge storm rages, flooding the area completely. So I throw myself into the newly-formed lake, and start splashing handfuls of water at the burning fences. It works, and I save the two parks and all my friends, male and female. This somehow unites them. So the next day we start rebuilding. At this point, my brain seems to have confused life with the Sims, because to take down/ put up stuff, I have to carry a keyboard around with me. To take down some burned bricks, I hold down the control button on the keyboard while pressing on the brick with my other hand to force it down until it disappears. My skater beau has to help me because bricks are apparently the hardest to get rid of. Then to put up new walls, I go over to this little shed the boy park has, and there are all these samples of what walls I want to put up (boards, etc). I have to set whatever I want upright and, while pressing the shift button on my keyboard, pull on the sample, and it telescopes out into a proper wall. We had just gotten all the walls up on the boys' park when I woke up.

The weird thing is, I haven't been reading Artemis Fowl, or thinking about malls or skaters, or even playing the Sims at all lately. Where did this all come from?

So... I'm a crack fiend. I admit it. I have a very sad literary addiction that has ruined my life. I have no money, and no friends, only my books and my dealers. Sure, I started out small-- Go Dog, Go; Hop On Pop.... but now I'm on the hard stuff. Last night, I spent approx. seven hours on my futon, moving only when my legs lost feeling. I was devouring every word of The Goblet of Fire. Let me review the facts for you:
-I own this book. It's not going anywhere. There is no logical reason for me to stay up until 1:30 am to get through it
-I've read the durn thing twice before. I know what's going to happen. There are no surprises. I'm amazed I haven't tried committing these babies to memory yet.
I'm like an alcoholic at a cocktail party. There are a thousand little reasons to say no, but one big reason to say yes: I NEEDS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I felt like I was just standing around while the world was about to end today at work. I was like, "what am I doing here wrapping pointsettias when Voldemort has risen once more?!?!?!" and really stupid stuff like that. It seems that the later at night I read something, the more hopelessly I confuse it with reality. It doesn't help that J. K. Rowling is going to sell a greeting card at an auction, upon which she has written a 90 word blurb about the fifth book, containing the words, "longest volume," "new teacher," and "dies." I was agonizing about it all day. My brain was working something like this:
Longest volume, that makes sense, she took her own time with this now, didn't she? Hmm hmm hmm.... new teacher, that's no surprise, there's a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher every year... BUT WAIT!!!!! Snape scampered in the last book (on Dumbledore's orders, but let me keep my unfair prejudices against fictional characters, will you?); that means a new Potions teacher will need to be found. Oh man oh man. Who DIES!?!?!?!!?!? It can't be Harry or Hermione or DEAR GOD DON"T LET IT BE ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON! Maybe the Dursleys will finally buy the farm. That would be lovely, wouldn't it. HANG ON! Rowling went almost out of the way to point out how old Dumbledore is in the fourth book. It can't be Dumbledore who dies. You know what happens then, don't you? THEY"RE SCREWED!!!!! THEY"RE ALL SCREWED!!!!!

I should be committed, shouldn't I?

In the meantime, every chain smoker in Lake County showed up at work today to breathe on me. Eurlgh.

I need to start Christmas shopping. I am so lazy. What if I just wrote a novel-sized blog? Would that be good enough?

I watched the Power Rangers yesterday. It hurt.

You can tell I'm out of it today because I keep trying to capitalize everything. I DOn't KNOw whY.

Chris, ELiza, and I all have something wrong with our crazy, crazy heads. We've been reading MARS lately, and, being sickos, have quite enjoyed any scene in said manga in which Rei starts crying. There's just something about a weeping border-line homicidal, self-destructive, rebellious, motorcycle racing pretty-boy/ bad-boy that we are irresistably drawn to. Can't imagine what it is, though.