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MTV Apologizes for Lampooning Gandhi
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By Associated Press

January 31, 2003, 7:29 AM CST

NEW DELHI, India -- MTV US apologized Friday for offending Indians by airing in the United States a show that lampooned India's revered independence leader, Mohandas K. Gandhi.
"MTV US apologizes if we have offended the people of India and the memory of Mahatma Gandhi," the music channel said in a statement faxed to news media. "Mahatma" means great soul and is an honorific often attached to Gandhi's name.
Nearly 150 lawmakers and political activists had fasted at Gandhi's memorial Thursday to protest against the MTV show they said insulted Gandhi.
The show, "Clone High, USA," has not been aired in India, but a newspaper report about it has upset many Indians who revere Gandhi as a hero and an advocate of nonviolence.
"Clone High, USA" introduces a character called G-Man -- a fictitious Gandhi clone who wears dangly earrings, eats junk food and is the ultimate party animal.
MTV US said it had "utmost respect" for Gandhi and that the spoof would not be shown outside the United States.
The MTV Web site, however, carries a picture of the clone caricature and a write-up on the show, which can be accessed world wide.
"MTV US wants to make it clear that "Clone High" was created and intended for an American audience," the statement said.
"We recognize and respect that various cultures may view this programming differently, and we regret any offense taken by the content in the show," the statement said.
The animated show parodies several historical figures from around the world, including the United States, where this form of comedy is common, MTV US said.

MTV show Web site: www.mtv.com/onair/clone_high

I never knew any one group of people would have such a complete and utter lack of sense of humor. Maybe I just laugh at everything, though. I love Clone High, and Gandhi, Joan of Arc, JFK, Lincoln, and George Washington Carver are shown in a...not negative light...more like an interpretation of what they would be like, here and now. It's kind of like, "We kid because we love," sort of thing. People are so weird.

Today, Mr. Sopha wasn't here, and the sub didn't particularly feel like making us do anything in gym, so Catie, Jill, JJ, and I wandered over to the gymnastics set up on the other side of the gym, and Catie taught us yoga. It involved a lot of sticking out our butts. After a while, JJ and I got kind of bored and started rolling around like little kids do down a hill, and then Catie crab-walk-chased me around, which was fun. Then I proposed to Julia, and she said, sure, because she always wanted to get married. Later in the day, I proposed to Amy and Kulsoom as well, but they refused. I guess they didn't want to move to Utah with me. Well, Kulsoom said she would if she could get her own house, and as long as I took care of the children. I said, "Where would we get these children?" and she said, "Good point." So my plans for marriage kind of fell through.

Amy brought Andrew, John, and Erica to 4th period lunch, and it was terrifying.

I love "Don't Speak," by No Doubt. Hardly a new discovery, but I listened to it a lot recently. You there! Listen to it! And the rest of No Doubt's wonderful, wonderful ska.

I want to learn to write songs. I think it would be cool. But I'm such a sap. All the songs I write would be all hokey and corny. I'd be the only one to like them.

I've been taking lots of tests on emode lately. So far:
- I am a type II parent
- My color is yellow (happy, cheerful, energetic, shares these things with others)
- I am a vintage VW Bug
- When it comes to self-indulgence, I am a saint (I have self-control, apparently)
- I will be married August 12, 2006

I'm taking the inkblot test now. It's fun. Go take some test-things. Find yourself, dangit, FIND YOURSELF!!!!

Amy's mom called me a saint the other day because she thinks I'm good at putting up with Amy. I don't put up with her, I get along with her and just happen to be a little...calmer... than she is. But after the emode thing, I told Amy's mom that she'd give me a swelled head.

Nyah.
>n_n<

I'm aware of the irony of my current Blogger title. But I'm better now. Disappointed, but better. Don't I sound like a total mom right there? "I am very disappointed in you, young lady." I never realized there's a parent in me, just begging to be let out. Although I am a very stinky person when it comes to forgiveness. I'm usually pretty good about it, but there are some things that just get to me. What can I say? I'm sorry, maybe.

I remebered that Madamoiselle told me I could talk to her about anything, and at the time, I couldn't think of anything I could possibly need to talk about, but I appreciated it when she agreed to see me this morning. She was very nice. She helped me...us...quite a bit. And I found out she knits, which is cool. I'll deal. I've dealt in the past, I'll get over myself. Blargh.

I downloaded "I Like 'Em Big And Stupid" a while ago, and I've been meaning to post the lyrics for a while, because the song is classic. Mum and Dad told me to download it, so if you're concerned, take it up with them.

When I need something to help me unwind
I find a six-foot baby with a one-track mind
Smart guys are nowhere, they make demands
Give me a moron with talented hands
I go barhopping and they say, "last call"
I start shopping for a neanderthal

The bigger they come, the harder I fall
Love till we're done, then they're out in the hall
I like 'em big and...stupid!
I like 'em big and...real dumb!
I like 'em big and stupid!

What kind of guy does a lot for me?
Superman with a lobotomy
My father's out of Harvard, my brother's out Yale
But the guy I took home last nigh just got out of jail
The way he grabbed and threw me
Ooo, it really got me hot
But the way he growled and bit me
I hope he had his shots

The bigger they are, the harder they'll work
I got a soft spot for a good-lookin' jerk
I like 'em big and... stupid!
I like 'em big and...real dumb!
I like 'em big and stupid

I met a guy who drives a truck
He can't tell time, but he sure can drive
I asked his name, and he had to think
Could I have found the missing link?
He's so stupid, you know what he said?
...
Well, I forgot what he said cuz it was so stupid!

The bigger they come, the harder I fall
Love till we're done, then they're out in the hall
I like 'em big and...stupid!
I like 'em big and...real dumb!
I like 'em big and stupid!

Tee hee, I love Julie Brown. Maybe I'll rent Earth Girl Are Easy this weekend. I've never seen it, but I think she's in it and she sings her "Cuz I'm A Blonde" song.

You know what kind of upsets me? I've never met anyone like Sora from Kingdom Hearts. I mean, he was a lovable little dork-boy with this silly grin (by the way, those links will take you to two different pictures of Sora's smile). I love him because I've never met anyone so endearingly stupid. He was thicker than me, but in the most adorable and straight-forward and honest way. Plus he was so cute, with his sticky-up hair and rosey cheeks and his lips and his perfect white teeth. I find myself increasingly appreciative of nice teeth. This might have something to do with it. Wait, I've just remembered that Isaac Adamson, author of the Billy Chaka books and himself a dork-boy (albeit an extremely hairy one) had this quote out of Hokkaido Popsicle that perfectly describes what I feel about Sora's smile:

"He wore one of those hangdog, loser's grins, like the kid who was always picked last but couldn't help smiling that he was picked at all."

I like that. The rest of the world probably thinks it's pathetic. Actually, I kind of fell in love with the character (in the book) Billy is describing. He was a bass player in some hugely popular Japanese rock band, and he was super-protective of his friends, of which he had few, but once he was attached to someone, he took care of them. Or at least, what he felt was care. I kind of identified with him, I guess.

Ok, time to get off that subject. I really can't let it go, I guess. Grr.

I asked Mum and Dad if I could go on the internet, and Mum asked if I was done with my homework, to which my dad responded by asking if she was done with her homework, and she said, "Oh, homework, yeah, totally done." So I said,"Hello! Pot to kettle: you are black." My dad asked if that was anything to say to my mother, and I said yes. Then they laughed and let me get on. I love my parents. I can say practically anything and get away with it, because I'm always joking. And they realize I'm joking, which is a plus.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh. I thought I could handle the real world if things stayed relatively simple. I've also decided that my loathing of people in general is completely justified. For those of you out there, reading this: If I don't avoid eye contact with you, consider yourself blessed. Because the rest of the world's just going to get a good view of the top of my head. For the rest of my life. I'm just going to become well acquainted with floor tiles. There's nothing you can do to stop me.


Argh. Rage.

I suppose I'm just having one of those "tests of the bonds of friendship" they have in those crap coming-of-age story movies that I hate. I don't relish living through one. I feel like the crappiest crap in the universe. I must be the most blind, idiotic, self-absorbed, intolerant person to ever stumble around on this earth. I would like very much to package several people in an uncomfortably small box and ship them to Cancun, which I personally found to be rather unpleasant, but I'm sure others don't feel quite the same as me. I'm so pissed I can hardly see straight. My head aches from crying all afternoon, and I've lost my voice from frustrated screams into pillows (which, apparently were not enough, since Eimile could hear me outside and asked me once she'd let herself in whether I had brought any friends home). I spent several hours staring blankly at one of Mum's baskets, but when she made me sit upstairs (in the chair, no less), I watched the Food Network, which was the only channel I could find with absolutely zero sexual content.

That little thing in my head that turns off anger was slower working than it usually is, but already I'm cooling off. Which makes me mad, because I want, for once in my life, to hold a grudge. But no, I'm as forgiving as ever, and I just want hugs.
But this is not improving Caitlin/Austin relations one bit. And I doubt I'll be willing to stand in the same room as him. Ever.
There goes my bear temper, ha ha. Ugh.
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What Is Your Animal Personality?
brought to you by Quizilla

What do you think? Does it sound like me? Sorta, maybe.........

Today I was loitering in the hallway with Amy, when Other Brad walked by and gave my arm a little squeeze and said hi. I told him not to pinch me and he said it was a squeeze, not a pinch, and I said, no squeezing, then. And then he walked away. So Amy started singing, "Caitlin has a booooooooooooyfriend." So I had to explain to her it's just that he started talking to me and eventually I felt compelled to talk back, and all that. But then it occurred to me:
In my high school career, I've had three boys show some vague interest in me (I wouldn't have counted Other Brad, but since I've endured teasing on the subject from fully four people, he's been added to the list)...all three of them are named Brad. I find this exceedingly odd. Am I a Brad Magnet, as opposed to a Babe Magnet? I must investigate.

In case you were wondering (my friends should know this, but since some of Mum's coworkers read this, I'll say it):
Brad #1- Asked me out, but I turned out to be his final denial before he came out. The closest thing we had to a date was an extensive late-night telephone conversation. It wouldn't have worked out anyway, as I hate talking on the phone like most people hate Richard Simmons. Not really, but I've always wanted to work Richard Simmons into my blogger somehow. But I do hate talking on the phone.
Brad #2- We went on one date, and it was fun, but I felt I'd rather hang out than go out with him.....But it's OK, we're both Pokemaniacs. >n_n< <--Happy kitty. He gives me Men's Pocky, the sweetie. Ha, ha. More bad jokes. See, cuz...Pocky's candy, and I said sweetie, and...yeah. Moving on.
Brad #3- Nothing, really. Does it mean anything when guys get in fights over who gets to sit in a seat that just happens to be next to you? But Mum, Eliza, Chris, and Amy seem to have detected some frisson, or maybe they just like teasing me.... I vote "teasing."

My Grandma paid me twenty dollars for the four As I got on my report card (five dollars per A), but she made me promise not to get so many in the future, because apparently I cleaned her out. Mum thinks I should have gotten the whole "grade fund" she'd been saving, as I was the only recipient of As in my entire family, including my cousins. No such luck.

Mrs. Doucette has been out with pink eye for the last two days, and the sub seems to have taken quite a shining to me. She told me how my pictures really capture the energy of the models' poses (what energy? They have to stand completely still), and she loves the music I bring to class. She also thinks it's funny because I draw the fastest of anyone in the class. I can't help it. I see, I draw, I'm done. It takes me about 5 minutes when the rest of the class needs 15. I don't know why. Oh, well... Mrs. D should be back tomorrow. In the meantime, I've been doing these great drawings, but we were working with charcoal today, and the sound of it scraping across the paper was like getting stabbed in the ear with a rusty screwdriver. But Colleen saw my stuff (Ok, I roped her in and made her look at them. Am I becoming a self-centered ego-maniac?) and said I was a good cartoonist. I'm glad she thinks so, but since the pictures were in a semi-realistic style, should I still consider that a compliment? Oh, well. I will anyways.

Eliza drew a picture of me a few days ago and now she's making it into this cool vellum (velum?) thing. She said she's done so many drawings and photographs of me, she could do a whole show. She said she'd call it "Principessa" cuz that's what she calls me. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I wuv Eliza.

Eliza's knitting me a strawberry hat! We saw it at the yarn store, and I said, "Eliza! Make me that!" So she said, "OK," and I bought the yarn and she fawned over some other yarn what was purty, and we talked to the lady who runs the shop (who was very nice, and old, and she was knitting a flashy pink scarfy thing, which she called her "slut wear." I thought old ladies saying, "slut" was funny). Eliza is also making me a Gryffindor scarf, but she made me promise not to wear them at the same time. Oh... the strawberry hat looks like the top of a strawberry. There's even a little extra bit what sticks off like a stem. It's so kewt.

Nikolas now comes over every Tuesday to eat our food and watch the Gilmore Girls. It's nice, but I'm usually doing homework at the time, so we don't hang out. But she does come over every Saturday night and we sit on the couch and watch funny movies like Clue and Mansfield Park and The Importance of Being Earnest while stealing food from each other and trying to stay warm in my arctic TV room.

My French class loves to pry into Madamoiselle's personal life. It is very funny, because they usually do it during our grammar lessons, so our example sentences tend to read something like, "The teacher does not need a man," "She does not want to marry Roland," and "She is an independent woman." Roland is Madamoiselle's ex-boyfriend. The class is convinced she should marry him, because he is studying to be a doctor and therefore will be rich someday. Madamoiselle insists that the subject of Roland should really be dropped, since she broke up with him two years ago. The class compensates by trying to get her to agree to being set up with various cousins and the like. They also call her "Madame," but that might be because they're used to middle-aged ladies teaching French. Madamoiselle is only 10 years older than us. And very cool.

I think, if Zoe could talk, she'd have a southern accent. Wouldn't that be funny? Or maybe that's just me. Probably yes. Anyway, I do believe Zoe is the cat version of a blonde. I've never met a more air-headed housepet in my life. We have this telephone console from Pottery Barn that we're holding on to until we can get it to Grandma, and it's got a thing like a roll top desk has, right? You know, the bit that rolls up. Only it's a pane of glass. Behind it is this little space that I'm assuming you're supposed to put stuff in, but on the day Mum brought it home, she and Dad put Zoe in it, presumably because my parents have the thought processes of five year olds. The end result of this is that Zoe actually liked it in there, and now she sits in the box part of the console. The problem is, its door is glass, so she sees straight through it, which means if we don't leave the door open, she tries to jump in and ends up smacking her head on it.

I'm talking with Jennifer! Yay! I haven't talked with her in forever, mostly because I keep forgetting I have her phone number and email readily at hand. Oops. We're on AIM now. Talky talk talk. About college. As usual.

I'm sooooooooooooo happy about drawing and Printmaking. Figure drawing is fun. Although sometimes I'll draw something and think, "It's a masterpiece!... Too bad it's on NEWSPRINT, or I'd think I accomplished something." Then right afterwards I'll make something so complete and utter crap that I'm glad no one but Nikolas can see it. And she doesn't make fun of me nearly as often as you might think. But still enough. I like to model for the class. Yesterday I wore my ruffley tuxedo shirt so they'd have to draw it. Bwa ha ha ha. I told Mrs. Doucette that next I wanted to pose with an umbrella. She seemed to think this was funny for some reason, but she promised to bring me one on Monday. I'm going to bring the Chinese one Lydia gave me, too, though.

Ok, I wrote that yesterday, but never got around to posting it. Here's Sunday's issue:

Did you know the word "purple" is technically considered American slang, since the proper term is "violet?" I think that is exceedingly odd.

There was a little girl at the Gardens today with eyes so light blue they almost looked white. She was so cute, running around in her poofy coat and picking up fallen leaves and flowers.

I'm in a good mood for once. Usually at work I feel all "blargh" but today I felt genki (cheeful, upbeat, OK all round). I ate lunch with Don and he ate a quarter of my sandwich and stole some of my grapes while I tried to convince him that "Harvest Moon" is the greatest video game ever made. He seemed pretty well sold on it.

People always give me funny looks when they walk in to the Gardens and see me in a hat, coat, scarf, and gloves. Since this is pretty much how I dress for school, I don't think much of it, but I can see how it could be construed as a bit odd. It's really pathetic, but I can never spell "school" correctly the first time around.

I had a chit chat today with a guy about my jazz. He told me about all these people I'll have to look into, like Bob Crosby and the Bobcats, and this radio station that plays classic jazz on Sunday afternoons. Then he turned to the lady standing next to him in line and said, "This young lady, I don't mean to embarass her, but she has excellent taste in music." The lady told me she didn't start to appreciate classic jazz until she was an adult, and she was glad to see young people interested in it, too. I got to tell them how much I love the stuff. Then she mentioned that she was buying her plant because she was feng shui-izing her house, and I said I thought that was kind of interesting, so she gave me the name of some author that makes it easy and understandable (Karen Kingston, I think) and said I should look into it. So that was kind of cool.

Jennifer got sick, so we couldn't hang out. POOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Lately I've been reading the ingredient/content lists of various things, and they've kind of been creeping me out. The oil sheen Mum and Drea put in my hair when they blow-dry it contains propane, and my Junior Mints lippy has iron oxide. So, in my mind, I've been smearing chocolate-flavored rust on my lips for the last month. But it's yummy.

I like drinking dihydrogen monoxide. It's goooooooooooooooooood. (Dihydrogen monoxide = H2O = water, foo').

Don and I were looking through the tropical plants book and work today, and we came across the following:
-the prickly custard apple
-the sausage tree
-the monkey bread tree
???
Who names these things?

You know that dream I had when Patches died? Well, Sundae, our usagi-chan (bunny) died earlier this week (sniff. Death sucks, but I wasn't as attached to the rabbit as I was to that cat) and I had a dream about her last night. It wasn't much, but whatever. I dreamed that we were running around the house trying to catch her because she had gotten loose. The only weird thing was that she was about three times the size she was in real life, and while we were chasing her I kept thinking to myself, "Why are we doing this when Sundae's dead?" I wasn't creeped out or anything, I was just tired of running after her. And she could get up stairs, for some reason.

Then I had a dream that an unidentified male friend (I don't recognize the guy, but he was my friend in my dream) and I were sitting on the floor of my TV room watching a show with my family. We two were the only ones on the floor, though. Anyway, when I got up to get something, he grabbed my leg and asked me where I was going. I said something like,"To get a soda, now let go." Only he wouldn't and I got pissed because I couldn't move around on account of the fact that he was bigger and heavier than me and attached to my leg. So I ended up half walking, half dragging him around the house. I was yelling at him the whole time because he kept saying stuff to imply that we were boyfriend and girlfriend and I was mad because we were just friends. I think once he even called me "lover." It was really, really creeeeeeeeeeeeepy. I hope it isn't going to become one of my recurring dreams, cuz that would suck.

That's all I can think of, because excessive television has rotted my brain. bye.

OK....I guess I got tired of the puppies, but in the end, I decided I love the kitties. That's all there is to it. I have the attention span of a damp sock, although that could be considered something of an insult to the sock..... The "Or Else" bit is because the description of my blog is "The floggings will continue until morale improves," but I don't think that part shows up on the page

I like my new Drawing And Printmaking class. We're doing figure drawing right now, which I like a lot, although sometimes it doesn't look much like I was drawing so much as having a seizure with a pencil in hand and a convenient drawing board in front of me. Today I managed to produce a piece that everyone said looked like my teacher, who was modeling, but to me looked like...crap.

Ok, I spent forever on the internet already, so today's entry is going to be almost literally a day late and a dollar short. I just haven't had time lately.

I like the group, or singer, or whatever, Paris Combo. They're cool French music. Jazz, and the singer sings really fast. It sounds funky.

Yesterday I babysat Kevan and Georgie, and I drove there and back without incident. I hope this doesn't give anyone any ideas. Hmm.....

Ok, that's it. I told you it would be pathetic. Don't say I didn't warn you. Cuz I did. I DID! Stop looking at me with your accusing eyes. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Right. Until next time.

I'm in love with Dinah Washington's voice right now. She's so cool. I downloaded a remix of her singing "Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby?" It's really nifty. I like the idea of jazz remixes. In case you were wondering... "Is You Is..." is the song that Tom sings in that one episode of Tom and Jerry. I've found that's how most people recognize it (the song, not the episode. They don't need any help remembering classic TV, but songs? Goodness, yes).

I was quite sick yesterday, and the heat at the Gardens was out, so I ended up going home early and sleeping until five, when Eliza came over. We watched tv until 11, and then Nikolas went home instead of staying the night, because I was ill. But Mum seemed quite determined to get her to stay over, and said Nik could use the couch if she wanted, but then Nik pointed out she had a perfectly good bed at home. So Mum said I could sleep on the couch and Nik could take my bed. Then I said that Mum and Dad could sleep in the chairs in front of the tv upstairs and we'd take their bed. Then Mum told Nik she'd see her later.

I've discovered that I can only take compliments if they're indirect. I get all weird and sputtery when Bob tells me (unrightly, I think) that I am the perfect employee, but I could definitely handle it if someone told me that's what Bob thinks. Likewise, I do OK if I get a nice email, but never mind if I get something face-to-face.

Which reminds me, there's an entry in my French/English dictionary that provides a translation for that oft-used expression, tete-a-tete (only I'm not spelling it right because I don't feel like putting in the accent marks), and you'll never guess what it is... that's right: tete-a-tete. Sigh. I wish I knew how to make bad puns in French. Some how all of my teachers have neglected to pass this valuable ability down to us students. I take that back. Mr. Neumark did. I meant I wish someone non-creepy had done so.

While I was at work, I noticed someone had changed the water in the tray under the carniverous plants, which is good because that "water" looked like it was going to start walking around any day now.

Gary Oldman had been asked to play Sirius Black in the third Harry Potter movie, but all I've seen him in is "The Fifth Element," so I'm a bit scared of how that might turn out.

Speaking of "The Fifth Element," I love that movie for no good reason at all, and there's nothing you can do about it. We rented it for about the three billionth time this weekend, and I think that if there's someone out there who loved me very much, they'd buy it for me. To further rot my brain.

At the Gardens, we have this greeting card that makes me burn with envy because I wish I had thought of it. On the cover is a little bunny at a photo developer, and the frog behind the counter is saying, "Maybe tomorrow." On the inside is printed the message: Some day your prints will come. Grrrrrrrrr.

I went to the dentist today. Whee. Actually, it was kind of cool. I always get compliments about my purty teeth when I go (although I think they're starting to go a bit yellow, so I'm going to have to look into whiteners. Sigh). Because today is a school holiday, lots of kids were coming in, so the assistant-lady was loading the office up with kids' floss, and she gave me some when I asked all nice-like. It's got a clear box and it's cherry-berry flavor. Then I was given my choice of fluoride treatment flavors, and once I discovered a marshmallow flavor was available, it was no contest. It used to be that we got this liquid stuff that burned like the fires of Hades, and we had to swish it around for a minute straight, which was pure torture, and it only came in the highly caustic flavors of mint and raspberry. Now we have this fun foam that's in these trays that you stick in your mouth. The down-side is that it makes you drool a lot and you have to keep it in for four minutes. But it really did taste like marshmallows, instead of sulfuric acid, so that was a plus. Then the dentist looked at my X-rays and said, well, you've got some stuff trying to happen around the edges, but if I remember to floss, it shouldn't be a problem. I'm looking at the X-rays and wondering how he can tell. It just looks like a bunch of teeth to me. But he's the trained professional, not me. Whatever. So I got a free tooth brush, and my floss, and some toothpaste, but no stickers or pencils, which was kind of a let down. Eimile did, lucky duck.

Yay! I've got a new cell phone. It's the Motorola Hummingbird model, which has this little circle thing at the top, and you flip the front around instead of up, and it's coooooooooooooooooooooooool. I spent quite a while programming it, and it can dial by voice command. All I have to do is press one little button and then say "home" and it will call home for me! Weston fell for this several times before he caught on, once while we were in the same room. Tomorrow morning in the car, I'm going to freak Amy out! Yay! Not only that, but I can actually compose a custom ring for the thing. If only I had an ear for music, this would be very nice. As it is, that particular feature is quite useless.

When we went to Barnes and Noble today, I was reading in one of those big windows because all the seats were taken, and a guy came and sat on the other side of the sill. I was just reading obliviously, when he made a comment about how loud the people in the next window were, and I just said something sort-of-kind-of-not-really agreeing, and went back to reading. It slowly dawned on me that he might have been trying to start a conversation or something with me, which was kind of creepy, but I couldn't really just jump up and take off, because that would be rude. So I read for a while, then pretended to check my watch (which I wasn't wearing. Oops) then hopped up and left. Safe! Only he saw me later only a few feet away with Eimile. Oops.

Eimile got this weird...thing. It looks like a clear orange ball filled with soapy water, but when you smack it against a hard surface, like a floor, or someone's head, it flattens out. Skoosh! Then it peels off the floor and goes back into a ball shape all on its own. It's really cool in a disgusting kind of way. Only Mum just threw it against the mirror outside my room and broke it (the ball, not the mirror). Oops. It’s all leaky. Eeeew.

Mum got me a new robe from Pottery Bunker. No, I don't know why we sell robes. We just do. Anyway, it's like this big, beige number that's super thick and fluffy. It absolutely dwarfs me, even though it's a small/medium. She got it to replace my old robe. For some reason, she thinks that since it has belonged to, in the following order, her father, her, my father, and me, then it's on its last legs and should be retired. Just because it was worn to bare threads in various spots, she thinks she can just get rid of Ol' Blue (well, it was equal parts blue and red, but whatever). I pretended to cry when she took it to throw away, just for old time's sake.

While we were at the mall today, Chris, Kulsoom, and JJ went into Rampage and started trying on a plethora of cocktail dresses for, as far as I can see, no discernible reason. Chris and Kulsoom tried on dresses with these scoop-neck-type-things, and Soom declared that the folds were so deep that she was, in actuality, wearing a combination dress and change purse. Then they tried on a dress that looked like curtain material… but still very cool. I had been watching impassively and all that good stuff, but their enthusiasm caught and soon I had two dresses forced on me. One was a sparkly pink ma-bob without any straps, just elastic, and slightly itchy, but they all said it looked good on me. I was my usual self (“Whatever. If you say so. Ok.”), but as I went to put it back on the rack, I passed a lady who, spotting the dress in my hand, declared, “That would look wonderful on you!” So I really can’t escape them. Then I tried on another change purse/dress, with fun ruffles, but I got self conscious in it because it was backless. Plus, it really didn’t go with the khaki dress socks I was wearing at the time.

We ate at Stir Crazy, which wasn’t bad, but I still have the palate of a five year old, so I mostly just picked at it. There was waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much sauce on my plate. I could hear the broccoli gasping for breath as it slowly drowned. It was also fun because I got to recount the story of the time when Chris Johnson picked me up and slung me across his shoulder in Anime Club freshman year. I had been standing on a desk being hyper, and he just stuck me on his shoulder and started wandering around the room. Weston fairly had a heart attack, and a lot of people loudly demanded he put me down, but I was just hanging there and thinking, “This is interesting” in a sort of bemused way. I love telling that story. I don’t know why, though.

I feel all warm and fuzzy and I haven’t the foggiest idea why, although it might have had a lot to do with spending time with my friends all day. Yes, that’s probably it. But I have to go to the dentist on Monday, and I don’t need to tell you how much that sucks. I really don’t feel like some mad man with a miniature ice pick trying to scrape my teeth off.

Today, some of the managers at the Bunker thought Eimile was me. Not that something like that doesn’t happen at least once a week, or anything.

For some reason, the internet went all funny on me and I had to rewrite this all on Word. Grr.

Is it just me, or is it cold in here? Oh, wait, it must be just me because our house is like THE FRIGGIN' ARCTIC. I swear my feet have frost bite. No worries... massive tissue damage builds character. My dad says so. Of course, if I try to bring up the subject of our freezey-cold house, they just tell me to put on a sweater. Never mind that I usually have on my flannel pajama pants, a thermal shirt, and a blanket draped around my shoulders. It's a good thing I never complain about it being too hot, or else they'd probably suggest I pull of my skin for a few hours. Just to cool down. On the other hand, I keep the door to my room closed so the heat accumulates, and then they come in and complain about how hot it is.
???
Go figure.

Actually, that reminds me of this one time, I was at home with Dad and I happened to think the house was a bit on the chilly side, but what else is new? So anyway, I complained to him for a little bit, then took the jar of pickles from the fridge and retreated to my room, saying, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room shivering and eating pickles." To which Daddy replied, "Everyone has their own personal hell, I suppose."

Yum, pickles.

Which reminds me of something else. When I was a little lass at the old house, I came home sobbing from the bus stop one day because I had seen some squirrel road kill. I was very horribly upset by it (I think this was just before my extremely short stint as a vegetarian). Later, I went back to check on the body and was horrified to discover it was gone. So I went home and informed my family of this over our dinner of hamburgers. When I got to "And now..(sniff, sniff) it isn't even there anymore." My dad says, "Well, I had to get the hamburger meat from somewhere."

As a child, I found the joke hugely disturbing, but now I think it's funny. I might add that Dad doesn't remember this at all, but then, when he made the comment, Mum gave him a massive smack to the back of the head, so that might account for the memory loss.

Hey, talking of eating things that ought not be eaten, I have a new favorite scene from Inu Yasha. See, Inu Yasha (the half demon...I've probably talked about this anime before, but what can I say? I'm a fan), Miroku the (not-so-holy) monk, and a little kid/ fox demon named Shippo are sitting around a fire talking while Kagome, the lead female character, sleeps nearby. Inu Yasha wants to be a full demon, but Miroku cautions him that it might not be all it's cracked up to be. "What if you ended up devouring Kagome and Shippo as a full demon?" he asks. Shippos tugs on Miroku's robe and says, in a worried voice, "Wouldn't he eat you too?" Miroku responds in a calm, reassuring voice, "I will have run away long before then."

Hahahahahahhahahhahhahahaha, oh. I think that's funny. Probably no one else does.

Which in turn reminds me of something else I find hilarious that no one else does. I was reading this webcomic, and I came across one that went a little something like this:
A GameBoy Advance SP walks into a bar.
The bartender looks up and says, "Why the backlit screen?"
The GameBoy Advance SP says, "Because the first iteration of this hardware suffered from poor visibility in low-light environments."

That's it. I think it's funny. But I'm the only one. It's supposed to be dumb, in case you were wondering. It's funny because it's not funny, see? Cause original GameBoy Advances had no backlighting, so you'd have to be under a really bright light to see the screen, right? And the new SP model does have backlighting, so it's not an issue anymore, see? IT'S FUNNY, OK?!?!?

Anyway, I wouldn't recommend looking at anymore comics unless you're really into gaming.

I discovered today that Rags really likes playing with our GBA... or at least, chasing the glare from the screen around the room. It was sooooo kewt to see her swatting at a little patch of light on the wall. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Ok, I want fries. See you later.

Yeah, so I've decided on U of I, and our current project is what dorm they might stick me in. The first on the list has a very nice description, so Mum and I decided to check on the map to see how far it is from the main quad. Very far, it turns out... also, it is right next to a big, mofo cemetary, which for some reason is not mentioned at all in the cheerful blurb in the packet. Hmmm....

I am watching an anime called "NOIR" right now. It's funny because it supposedly takes place in Paris, but the Japanese attempts at French are even worse than their attempts at English. They also seem to be extremely confused: everyone in Paris speaks Japanese (naturally), but since the Japanese assume everyone who isn't from Asia must speak English, all written word is in said language. But all shop names, assassination targets, etc. are in French.

I just like the fact that one of the main characters, whose last name is Bouquet (no doubt chosen because it is so very French) is flipping through what is assumably a beauty magazine, except the title reads: UGLI.

Mum let me preorder a copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix yesterday. According to Amazon.com, it will arrive just in time for my birthday. It's time to sing and dance for joy.



Well, I'm doing it... you just can't tell.

Speaking of books, I found out Abhorsen, the sequel to Sabriel and Lirael came out recently, so naturally I cashed my check and forced my brother to burn rubber to the nearest book store. I started the 358 page book at around 10:45 am... and finished just shy of...I'd say...seven. I took a break for SpongeBob and The Simpson, though. Mum found out and gave me the usual speech. It's a waste of money, you just finish it in a few days, why do you go through these things so quickly...that sort of thing. Then I point out that I'll likely reread the thing about six times in as many months, so I do get my money's worth. And it will still look relatively new when I'm done. I'm just that good.

Anyway, I was very involved with it, and my brother walked into my room trying to start up a conversation right when I was completely absorbed, so he got dismissed with something along the lines of: "Can't talk now. World's about to end. Come back later."

Hah ahaahah, oh you kid.

Last night I had a weird dream that gives new meaning to the phrase, "Space Case." I dreamed about two very competitive lawyers who practiced law on what appeared to be a platform floating out in the middle of space. It was odd. I seem to remember folk dances as a part of it, and can't help but wonder what it all means.

Have I mentioned that I have now been instructed to post daily, if at all possible? I suppose next Mum will want it on the hour. Harumph.

One of my New Year’s resolutions this year was to give up coke (cola, not crack) because… um… it’s not good for my bones. I decided to drink more milk, juice, water, shampoo, etc. It turns out to be an expensive resolution. A can of coke at school costs 75 cents, but a bottle of juice is a dollar. Mind you, I do get more juice. But then I’m broke. I suppose I could get milk, since it is an almost-literal steal at 15 cents, but you don’t get much in a carton of milk and you have to be fairly selective about it anyway. For example, if you are going to buy milk, it has to be chocolate milk. You cannot get regular milk. Drinking the regular milk at school will KILL YOU. It is THAT BAD. I think they add extra bacteria to it before they ship it off to the developing youth of America. There is simply no other explanation for how ineffably NASTY that stuff tastes. Patches would have turned it down, and she ate pumpkin guts straight, stringy bits and all.

Anyway, my new objective seems to have actually increased my thirst. I polished off two bottles of apple juice, a gimungous glass of chocolate milk, and about half of the orange-juice-from-a-can-in-the-freezer today (after it had been mixed with water, not before, weirdoes). Mmmm… Tasty liquid beverages.

You know what I used to do when I thought Eimile was being particularly terrible? (Of course, just because I thought she was being terrible doesn’t mean she really was. I just didn’t have much tolerance for her when she was 5 years old… come to think of it, I still don’t now, I’m just better at hiding it. But I digress, as usual…). I would say, “I’m going to count to ten.” And proceed to make good on my threat. I never told her what I would do once I reached 10, and she always stopped doing whatever had she was doing by 7, at the latest. But it clamed her up, and that’s all that really matters. I don’t know what I would have done if she had decided to test me. Probably keep going.
20…
21…
22…
I really mean it! Knock it off! Don’t make me go to 25!

And then today, as I was walking to my chemistry final, I walked in between these two boys who were tossing a hat to on another. As I was going on my way, the hat landed right on my crossed arms. Without thinking, or even slowing down, I picked up the hat, threw it behind me, and kept right on going. One of the boys caught it as I passed. As I walked, I heard them laughing about how I didn’t stop. I can never figure out why people laugh at me when I do stuff like that. Perhaps someone else could shed some light on the subject?
…I thought not.

Wow! Over 300 hits. You like me, you really like me! I’m so pathetic to put up that counter. But everyone would talk to me about this thing (or, in Mum’s case, chase me around the house brandishing the broom in a threatening manner and tell me to update more often), so I thought, “what’s all the hubbub, bub?” and put up the counter to find out. Nearest I can figure, I seem to have created a kind of electronic crack. The internet was your gateway drug, you see. That or other blogs. But that makes it sound like I think my site is better than everyone else’s, which isn’t true. (Swelled head? Me? Nooooooooooo, not me.)

Anyway, see you later, alligator.

After while, crocodile.

I want more of those. How about:
“Till we meet again, simian.”
“Be seeing you, cockatoo.”
Er… that’s all I can think of.

See ya, then.

I am the happiest person on the planet right now:

--------------------
New Potter Book Coming Out June 21
--------------------

By SUE LEEMAN
Associated Press Writer

January 15, 2003, 10:37 AM CST

LONDON -- Harry rides (his broom) again.

After months of feverish anticipation, author J.K. Rowling has completed the fifth book about young wizard Harry Potter, and it will be published in the United States, Canada, Britain and several other countries on June 21, her publishers said Wednesday.

At 768 pages, "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" is more than one-third longer than its predecessor, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," Britain's Bloomsbury Publishers said.

"We are thrilled to announce the publication date," chief executive Nigel Newton said in a joint statement with Barbara Marcus, president of Scholastic Children's Books, Rowling's U.S. publisher.

'"Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" is absolutely superb and will delight all J.K. Rowling's fans. She has written a brilliant and utterly compelling new adventure," Newton said.

When the book failed to make it into print last year, as expected, there was speculation that Rowling -- now one of Britain's richest women -- was suffering from writer's block. She denied it, but the book has had a far longer gestation period than its predecessors, published every year from 1997.

Fans will have to wait, because no details of the latest story have been revealed. But the publishers did let slip that the book begins, "The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. ...The only person left outside was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four."

"Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" is more than 255,000 words compared to more than 191,000 words in "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire." Released in July 2000, that sold more copies on the first weekend after publication than any other book, according to Bloomsbury Publishers.

Rowling's four published titles have sold an estimated 192 million copies worldwide in hard and soft cover, and the books have been published in at least 55 languages and distributed in more than 200 countries.

* __

On the Net:

Bloomsbury Publishing, http://www.bloomsburymagazine.com

Scholastic Children's Books, http://www.scholastic.com
Copyright (c) 2003, The Associated Press

Nyarr.

Mum's friend from work is trying to convince me to go to University of Illinois instead of Illinois State. So she put together this long-ish list of clubs to try and convince me to go. I was like "Er, ah...well...hm..." and then Mum read, from the top of the list (cuz it's in alphabetical-like order) the "Aaargh, I'm a Pirate Society."

So, yeah, I'm convinced that University of Illinois has everything I'm looking for in a school: Scurvy Sea Dogs. Eargh, matey.

We did our photo presentations in Humanities for a final. Colleen went yesterday in class. She's evil because he project was incredible. Grr. Anyway, to answer the question of God she had these little pieces of paper with an inverted-colors picture of Jesus on them, and she was showing them to some people before she started her presentation, and when it was time to start she started collecting them again, saying, "Guys, I need my Jesuses back." Which just spawned a debate over whether the plural of Jesus is "Jesuses" or "Jesi." Tee hee. And one of the questions we had to address was, "Is man the universe's crowning achievement or just a speck of cosmic dust?" So one girl went with that and her photos were mounted on individual letters that spelled D-U-S-T. She was the last to go, and when she finished, Mr Osing stood up and gave this little speech about the variety of the projects, and how one assignment was interpreted in so many different ways, etc. "For instance, if (boy whose name I forgot but is a class clown) did this project, I'm sure it would turn out a little more like this." And then he rearranged the letters into S-T-U-D.

I went to the orthodontist yesterday so he could check the dents (les dents=teeth in French. My teeth are not dented, although I do have an itty-bitty crack/chip thing in one of my front teeth, which the dentist has yet to comment on, so I'm hoping it's not a big deal) and he counted my wisdom teeth. "One...two... two and a half... three and a half." Er.... it was because one was only half grown in, but Hey! He saw enough to assure me that I wouldn't need to get them pulled, which is what I'd been dreading since they started coming in. Hoorah. Then I got the usual: getting so big, beautiful teeth, nice to see you, get out and don't come back for a year, that sort of thing. We drive all the way to Waukegan for a 2 minute appointment, and that includes the wait. I wish everything could be that painless. Are there people out there right now thinking, "But you are just 17! And your wisdom teeth are entirely in? What's the dilio, yo?" Just kidding. I would never give this address to anyone who says "what's the dilio, yo?" But apparently I have a very advanced mouth. I got my braces on in fifth, I think, and they were off by mid-seventh. At eight I had the teeth of an eighteen year old, which my orthodontist found extremely fascinating. Kind of like when I go to the eye doctor and who ever is checking me up spends about six years inspecting my extra tear duct. Or when the dentist examining that little bit of...whatever... that attaches my tongue to the bottom of my mouth...
...
...
...Freaks.

I ate dinner at Kulsoom's yesterday. It was Pakistani food, so I told them up-front that I wasn't likely to eat much of it, but they were very understanding. Kulsoom's mum tried to reassure me. "It's all quite bland, nothing's too spicy, just try this, or that, or that." But Kulsoom wasn't helping because she'd point to something and say, "DON"T EAT THAT... without some pita bread to go with it." And before we ate, she asked me if I was allergic to anything, meaning food. I knew that, but I have a habit of responding, "cats" in situations like that, because I personally think it's funny (I usually get this when I'm at the doctor's office, and they don't find it quite as amusing {I just tried to spell "amusing" with a Q, for the love of...er... lovable things}, for some reason). They laughed, but later I realized that it could have been interpreted as an implication that we were eating cat for dinner. Oops. The funny thing is that halfway through dinner, Kulsoom's mum belatedly remembered they had frozen pizza, if I was interested.

I downloaded Shaniqua Don't Live Here No Mo' by Little T for Eimile and I'm ashamed to admit that I quite enjoy it. I'm sure there are some musical aficionados out there getting ready to storm the house for that one.

Um... I think that's it. Buh bye now.

Chris (who, by the way, has a stinky poopoo head for a boyfriend) lent me a big pile of awful romance novels a while ago, and I've become badly addicted to them. The problem is, the "sexy" men in the books are the polar opposite of hot for me. Me, I look at pictures of Orlando Bloom and think, "Wow, he's hot." (I love to watch anime with some of the most feminine-looking men on the planet, sigh and say "they're so adorably effeminate and non-threatening." It makes Weston laugh...ish.) The romance-novel-writer seems to think a man is only worth a second glance if he is big, hairy, and positively dripping with masculinity. It's really, really gross. It's also an apparent requirement that if you are going to be swept out of your lonley, loveless life by one of these Sexy Sasquatches, you have to be a secretary or work in a bank. It also helps to live close to, if not directly in the South. Eeergh. No.

Anyway, one has the following "About The Author" attached:
Penny Jordan is a seasoned author in the Harlequin Presents series. She is married, lives in Cheshire and works for a large bank. Her writing is full of vitality.

What's up with that last sentence? What is that supposed to mean? Is that supposed to sell me on the book, if the blurb doesn't?
"Ah, well, the plot doesn't sound particularly interesting, but it says here that the writing is full of vitality. I better not pass up a chance like that. Not every day you come across someone whose writing is full of vitality."

But it says she works at bank. Maybe all those romance-story heroines are in secretorial jobs because that's the only existence the authors can imagine. There is never a romance-novel star who is, say, a neurosurgeon or an environmental attorney. Why not?

Mum's going to order a tee shirt off of Alloy for me as my Valentine's day present (we usually get magazine subscriptions, but since Smile's dropped off the face of the earth, I have to make do). You'll never guess-- It's black, with red around the sleeves and collar, and says in white letters:
I love Screech
Only love is a red heart. Aw, yeah. I had to choose between that and a few others.... one that said "Punk Rock Day Camp" and featured cartoon kids with mohawks, "Chicks Dig Mohawks" with scary/cute zombie people, and "Hip Hop," which features a bunny hopping over a stereo. Hee hee. I tried to talk her into also getting me the Mighty Mouse undies, but she refused because apparently 10 bucks is too expensive for underwear.

Well, as long as I'm sharing embarassing-type-stuff, Julie told Eliza told me told Mum and Dad a really funny joke that is in very poor taste. I was laughing really hard and turning quite pink while I told it (which is weird, because usually I can get jokes out alright, although recently I haven't been able to talk properly for more than 15 seconds at a time, and even that's on a good day), and I had no business telling it to my parents for crying out sideways, but it was so funny (to me) that I had to share it with someone. I actually intended to tell it only to Mum, but Dad ended up in the wrong place at the right time (or maybe the right place at the wrong time?). Anyway, it goes a little something like this:
A pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel in his crotch. The bartender says, 'Hey, you've got a steering wheel in your crotch.' And the pirate says....'Yeah, it's driving me nuts.'

HAHAHAHAHHHAHAH
AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHHAA
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
HOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHO
HOHOHOHWHEHEHEH
EHEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEEEE
HEHEHEH hee hee... ah...

Like I said, I had no business telling Mum and Dad that, but there you are and Bob's your uncle and all that. Dad said he didn't need to hear that from his daughter, but I had Mum laughing almost as hard as I was. To make it up to Dad, I told him another joke:
A guy walks into a bar and orders three shots of whiskey and drinks them one at a time. Every week he would come in and do the same thing. Finally, the bartender says, "Y'know, I can put those shots all in one glass if you want.' The guy said 'No, I've got two brothers I'm very close to, but we all live in different parts of the country, so every week we all go to a bar and have one shot of whiskey for each of us.' The bartender thinks this is very touching, yadda yadda yadda. The guy comes in for weeks and weeks and does the same thing. Then one day he only orders two shots. Concerned, the bartender asks if anything happened to one of his brothers. The guys responds, 'Oh, no. It's just that I've quit drinking.'

Dad only asked why all my jokes take place in bars.

Today I'm going to force my Japanese music on you. Bwa ha ha.

I've really gotten into Do As Infinity lately (I know, but I don't name those groups, now do I?) I don't know if it's a group or just one person, but whoever they are, they're sooooooooooooooooooooo cool. They're kind of heavily into guitars (traditional, acoustic-types, not electric), and the singer has this luverly deepish voice (although at times she sounds a bit like a man with a nasal voice, and I would understand if someone were to say that it's an irritating voice, but hey, she's gotten farther than I have, so who am I to complain?)... the effect is kind of like a Japanese... Michelle Branch, maybe? I don't know, but c'est branche (cool). Ha ha ha, I made a funny. The other group I like right now is Every Little Thing. I know for sure that many, many people would find the sound of their voices annoying, but I think they're cool. I don't think they have a pop-culture equivalent. They're J-pop. That's all I can say.

Speaking of odd names, I've looked up a few groups so I can give you their silly names (mind you, I haven't actually heard a lot of these groups. I'm not completely hopeless yet):
-SHAKKA ZOMBIE
-B'z
-L'arc~en~ciel (this is French. It means "the rainbow".... as they are a semi-rock band I don't know why they chose this name)
-Black Biscuits
-Boonie Pink
-The Brilliant Green
-Bump of Chicken (I don't want to know)
-Due'le Quartz
-Elephant Kashmash
-Garnet Crow
-Eriko with Crunch (is this the name of the whole band, or is it two people: Eriko and Crunch?_
-Head Phones President
-Pillows
-Plastic Tree
-Sweet Velvet
-TWO-MIX (this is a cool techno group that I like quite a bit, actually)
-V6 (combination V8 and U2, or something far more sinister?)

They all get extra points for creative use of the English language, whether they meant to or not.

Ok, I've just looked them up and Do As Infinity is three people: two guys and one really hot girl (well, the picture in the background is hot, and I think that's her). Here they are. Trust me. She's hot. Er... although maybe the one on the bottom is female... or male... I really can't tell.... But they have good taste in music.

Today Don called Bob "Bobbio." I almost bust a gut, I was laughing so hard. Ah, makes me giggle just thinking it. I told Bob that Don was trying to beat me up (he was waving his arms around, but I have an active imagination) and Bob said, "My money's on Caitlin." Good to know. Also, Don calls me Joe. I haven't the slightest clue why. But then, he calls just about everyone Joe. So it's not particularly significant. He also want to see me with an afro. That makes Kulsoom and Don. If I get one more suggestion, and all three of them pay me, I might just do it.

The other day, on our way home from work, Weston got a call on his cellphone. I heard him answer, and he was talking with the other person, very seriously and all business-like. Then he said, "Do you want to talk to Caitlin?" and handed the phone to me. I picked up, thinking it would be Mum or someone, but it turned out to be Jaylon, my 2 3/4 years old 2nd cousin (that's a lot of numbers), who gave me an enthusiatic "HI!" and then continued in complete gibberish. I chatted with him for a while (he said "HI!" several more times) and then he hung up on me. Aw, it was sooooo cute. I found out that he likes reducing people's names into monosyllables. My cousin Dena is Dee, Dawn is Day, and Mannaseh (or is it Manasseh? Or Mannassah? Who knows? His immediate relatives, that's who) is Asseh, and his father Lennox is.... Babe, because that's what my cousin Devynne calls him. That's so KEWT. He thinks his dad is Babe because that's what his mommy calls him. Aw. I love Jaylon, even if he is largely considered by my family to be the devil-child. On Christmas Eve, we hung out at Aunt Debbie's house, and he was there, throwing apples across the room and screaming. A lot of screaming. But then he made friends with me and made me put on his Barney slippers for him while he ate the apple that he had chucked at the wall for the last 15 minutes. Come to think of it, he was still throwing it, then he'd pick it up, take a big bite, and eat some of the bite but take the rest out of his mouth and put it on the floor for later. Er... not so cute. But he gave me a kiss goodbye (on his mom's orders, but hey, a sloppy wet green apple kiss from a two year old is a sloppy wet green apple kiss from a two year old, and it's not something I'll turn down).

My brother no longer exists to me (ok, he still does, but I'm grumpy, dang it). He told me Mr T Experience couldn't sing and couldn't play. RARGH! CAITLIN SMASH! I was so pissed. Just because he likes System and I constantly diss them, he thinks he can make semi-polite criticism about a band I like. Well, poo on him. I did get him to admit that they have the coolest sense of humor in a band, though. I found out two more song names: Stephanies of the world unite, and Leave the thinking to the smart people. Ok, now I'm going to share with you some of the lyrics from I love you but you're standing on my foot:
When I saw you standing there
In your lacey underwear,
I knew...
I was in the ladies' dressing room
And now I've seen it all
And they kicked me out of the mall
But it was wonderful
Now we've got a lot to talk about
Yelling when we're hanging out
And it seems like you're always having a cow
Cuz I love you
I love you
I love you, but you're standing on my foot
There's got to be some way
For you and me to act our age
And maybe make a change
Where will we be next year
Still sitting here and drinking beer
And watching Mr. Belvidere?
(He says something here that I can't make out, because they really can't sing, but I do love them, so there)
And we played Parcheesi every night
And that's alright!
Cuz I love you
I love you
I love you, but you're standing on my foot
And you were wearing your hat that says
God, Guts, Guns made America free
Let's keep our freedom
And you were smiling, but I could see
Your disappointment and something green
stuck between your teeth
I said, I'm so impressed
You said, Surely you jest
I said, yes
But stop calling me Shirley
Stop calling me Shirley
Stop calling me Shirley
It's not my name
I love you
I love you
I love you, but you're standing on my foot
I love you, but you're standing on my foot

Yes, yes it does rock. I know.

Odder still are the words to the "English" version of one of my favorite J-pop songs, Every Heart, by BoA:
Tell me babe, how many do I shed my tears?
(Every Heart) Every Heart is not a gentle yet
Shall I do? I can never say my loneliness
Every Heart doesn't know so what to say oh what to do
Was afraid of darkness cause I felt that I was left alone
So I prayed for help to distant million stars
Round & Round the planets revolve round the sun
And we always seek after love and peace Forever more
Growing growing woe baby we can work it out
Look up at the sky Every Heart is shining all today
Show me now, What kind of smile do I come across
(Every Heart) Every Heart can take a step towards the dreams
All of us what to take a lasting happiness
Whenever you feel sad, I wanna hold you & give you a sound sleep
Someday Every Hearts gonna free and easy
We have peace of mind
Someday all the people find the way to love
Goes & Goes the time goes on we are not alone
We live on together and we will find some precious things
Sometime we will smile sometime we will cry somehow
Don't forget believing yourself - Tomorrow's never die
There is the warm heart places on my mind
In my earlist day's there and it's so sweet
There are many stars they have talk with me so kind
They say yes always time's a friend of mine so shine
Round & Round the planets revolve round the sun
And we always seek after love and peace Forever more
Growing growing woe baby we can work it out
Look up at the sky Every Heart is shining all today
Goes & Goes the time goes on we are not alone
We live on together and we will find some precious things
Sometime we will smile sometime we will cry somehow
Don't forget believing yourself - Tomorrow's never die

Um... WHAT? Do you think she was shooting for "Tomorrow never dies" there? I really don't get it. If you're going to rewrite a song in a language you don't have the slightest clue how to speak, shouldn't you find someone who does? This is so... er...something. I really don't know.

It occurs to me that I'm probably the only one who knows everything about what write in here, and even that's stretching it.

Caitlin's brain hurts.

Um, yes. Well, Theresa, one of the HUMAN mangagers at the Bunker, is preggers, so today was kind of funny because both Sammi and Weston walked up to me and said in quiet, whispery voices, "Did you hear about Theresa?" like she's dying or something. Then Sammi went to Jamba Juice and was asking around to see if anyone wanted anything. Theresa said, "Ask them what's good for pregnant ladies, but Sammi refused because she didn't want the guy behind the counter thinking she was the pregnant one. We joked around after she left, saying, "Not that I am, or anything but if I was...y'know... what would you reccomend?" It was quite fun. Actually, it was decent all round today, because we had about 3 customers, and Theresa and I discovered we both have Baby G watches, so we stood next to each other watching the animations dance around for about 5 minutes straight. Then she let us go at 4:30. I love that woman.

Whatever happened to rap like "Parents Just Don't Understand" and MC Hammer-type stuff? They didn't rap about hos and thug life and drug use. They rapped about rapping, for cookies' sake. And it sounded good. We need more old-school revival, dagnabbit. I've probably complained about this before. BABY GOT BACK FOREVER! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!

Ahem.

Speaking of Sir Mixalot, Will Smith, and other classic rappers, to go in a completely different direction that has next to nothing to do with them, why is it so funny when I rap? It never fails. My mother stares at me incredulously (why? Why can't I spell anything correctly?) when I sing along to Lauren Hill's "Doo Wap: That Thing," and when Kulsoom and I recite "Baby Got Back" from memory, it sends Eliza into gales of laughter. Is it really so odd to hear me rap? Is it? IS IT?! Er... now that I think of it, it must be. Never mind.

I used to feel bad that I never read anyone else's blogger, so I decided to start looking at everyone's... but although I've been told I have the funniest, I had no idea that I also ran the most often updated one, as well. I'm WAITING. Don't make me waste all that excess guilt.