Poplars hate me!
~I want a tattoo. The problem is, I don’t know what the heck to get.
~I made pasta tonight, but it had no taste.
~I went to the library for three hours tonight, but I came home realizing that I’d gotten absolutely nothing done.
~I used to have over 50 journals filled with stories I wrote in grade school.
~I read a lot.
~I cannot tell if I’m extremely happy or extremely sad right now.
~Am I boring?
This blog makes no sense and has no purpose.
Is this blog an analogy to something greater? Is all life a blog?
Now I know I am making no sense to anyone. I’ll go write something meaningful now.
Meaning-full.
(Seriously, this is just random crap. Fun will come tomorrow, promise)
FINALLY! Holy CRAP!
Why, why, why do you hate me, MySpace?
Seriously, why? It’s been a month and a half or so. I’ve finally been able to get these up. Sincere apologies. I just sent a nasty letter.
Apologies, guys. I hope these 44 (yes, 44) new blogs are sufficient repayment for not being able to get them up earlier.
I’m peeved.
The Blogarithm™
Is there an equation for finding how much insanity one’s blogs can bring?
Why yes…I present to you…the Blogarithm–!*
blogb(x) = y which is equivalent to x = by
where b = blog number, x = insanity level, and y = number of readers (subscribers)
Example:
blog55(x) = 3 à x = 553 à insanity level = 166,375, which is a rather moderate level of insanity. As you can see, the more subscribers a blog has combined with the greater the number of blogs can lead to much more insanity.
For my blog:
Blog(466)(x) = 6
X = (466)6
Insanity level = 1.02403665 × 1016
Voila! Try it on yours!
*Yes, I’m aware that there’s a site named The Blogarithm, but I thought of this independently. I Googled this one afterwards.
Waiter! There’s a Pisces in my Tropic of Capricorn!
Alright Matt, you requested “The Desert,” so I bring it to you here on my blogs in all its glory! I also decided to post it here because it’s been almost exactly two years since I made it.
But first, please take note:
- It’s very, very dirty.
- This is how my mind works when I’m hyped up on sugar.
- This is also how my mind works when I’m hyped up on sugar at 3:00 in the morning.
- No script. This was all pulled out of the air as I went.
- It’s not too clear at the beginning, but the “operation” I’m talking about is my sex change from female to male pumpkin.
- I’m honestly not sure if this is funny for people outside my little high school circle of friends who star in it, but I sure hope it is. Nobody’s really accurately portrayed, anyway.
Enjoy!
The Desert I
The Desert II
The Desert III
The Desert IV
The Desert V
The Desert VI
The Desert VII
The Desert VIII
The Desert IX
The Desert X
The Desert Finale
The Desert Aftermath
Alternate Finale (watch this one after episode ten, then continue on to the aftermath)
Sometimes I have the answers. Other times I’m just a toaster.
You know our road trip video that I made that was 40 minutes long and took about 400 hours to download and/or play? Yeah. I finally got the brilliant idea that I could chop it up and put it as sections on YouTube. Genius, huh?
Here they are. I am the best filmer ever. Period.
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
I’d say either Part II or Part IV is the funniest, but that’s just me. Hell, you don’t have to watch ’em at all (except for you, Amy and Shannyn, you fools were there and I expect my award-winning filming to be appreciated!).
I used to work at a bridal shop specializing in headdresses. My work there was to know a veil.
This blog is destined not to make any sense (this is good to know, you hooligans!)
I’ve set the scene for an interrogation. You are a D-cup bra. In the seat next to you is a potted plant (of the cactus variety). You and Mr. Prickles (the cactus) caused quite a commotion at a local nightclub last night. However you, being a bra, can’t remember a single thing. And Mr. Prickles isn’t talking. It is up to you and your razor sharp negotiation skills to persuade Mr. Prickles to confess to both you and the heavily-cologned officer across the table the goings on of last night. The tools at your disposal include:
-a book of matches
-three copies of War and Peace (unabridged)
-a piece of wedding cake
-Dr. Phil
The egg timer on the table is set at 56 minutes. It is ticking down. Quickly, my bra-like friend, what do you do?!
a) I quickly grab the book of matches and begin threatening Mr. Prickles with a burning match whilst distracting the officer by giving him a copy of War and Peace to read and entertaining Dr. Phil with the tasty slice of cake.
b) I enlist Dr. Phil to counsel Mr. Prickles into speaking, while the officer and I share the piece of cake after propping it up on the three copies of War and Peace.
c) I set the three copies of War and Peace on fire while all of us share the piece of cake and dance around the bon fire of glory.
d) I watch in amazement as Mr. Prickles constructs an elaborate escape using just three matches and Dr. Phil’s tie. I then pummel the officer with copy after copy of War and Peace as Mr. Prickles and I escape to the roof.
e) Dr. Phil threatens us with a lighted match until we all promise to stop making fun of his accent.
f) I act as a priest, reading out the wedding ceremony from a copy of War and Peace while the officer and Mr. Prickles realize their love for each other and get married, thus putting the wedding cake to good use.
g) I cough up a lung and Mr. Prickles and I take a cab to downtown New York.
You must choose! All of you!
And yes, I did have a bit of sugar tonight, how could you tell?
I used to teach a failing fly-tying class until I realized my efforts were all for knot.
So after a gushing nosebleed that lasted a good half hour this morning (that Amy stopped by banging on the bottom of my feet—don’t ask me how that worked, but it did), we came back from Coeur d’Alene and then went to Shannyn’s party where I learned:
1) I can’t bowl
2) I can’t bowl even when I change my name to a) Voltaire, b) Descartes, or c) Sartre
3) Amy looks good in Gus’s shirt and vice versa
Waiter! There’s an abominable snowman in my snow cone!
You know what I need? A new self-summery for this here MySpace. The problem is, I’m not quite sure how to go about it this time. My first one was really lame. The one I have now is pretty lame, too.
I know who I am. I know my little quirks, and I know how I see myself.
The question of the day is, how do others see me?
First hints: the ol’ Nohari and Johari windows I linked you all to months ago.
Top Johari: Intelligent, witty, and complex
Top Nohari: Vulgar (100%, baby!), chaotic, and overdramatic
Me? Overdramatic? NEVER! *faints for dramatic effect*
Okay, now that that’s done…I have a favor for my readers. Please tell me how you see me. What were your first impressions? What do I strike you as (both good and bad, please)? I know I’ll get at most, like, two replies for this, but hey, it’s worth a shot.
Enlighten me on myself.
This profile is set to dorky. This user must remove your pants to see his/her profile.
Technically this video was made on the fourth, but I was not near a computer at all on the third in order to post an actual blog, so I’m putting this for the 3rd anyway. Deal with it.
Amy, Shannyn and I go on an overnight road trip to Coeur d’Alene and stay at a creepy motel. It’s grand fun. This video is mainly for them, not because I don’t want anyone else to see it, but because it’s probably boring as hell to everyone who wasn’t there. Plus, because I’m not able to get it on DVD with my computer, I’m giving them this link here to download it to their computers. It’s about 40 minutes long, meaning that the download time is very, very long. So basically, watch it if you want, but beware: it’s probably very boring to you (except the part where I almost take off my shirt completely).
Edit: this is now on YouTube. Read August 7th’s blog and see!
I have a plethora of orange underwear at my disposal from 3:30 this afternoon until dusk!
Following Matt’s example, I went to Ross today and got a new drag outfit. Well, I went to Goodwill first, but I couldn’t find any pants that would fit, so I trundled over to Ross. After about a half an hour search and about 20 pants later, I finally found one that a) would stay up, and b) weren’t a foot or so too long. Then I bought a few shirts. And some boxers.
I’d show you some pictures, but I can’t find anyone to take a few of me, and when I try to prop my camera up I can’t get it at the right angle to get a good picture. So you’ll all just have to wait.
Yay!
Dasher! Dancer! Prancer! Vixen! All of you! Get the hell off my roof!
Here’s a little thing I found whilst surfing around on other people’s blogs:
1. List 10 things that you want to say to people, but never will.
2. Don’t say who they are.
3. Never discuss it again.
These are ten things I want to say, but they’re not to ten different people. There are some people to whom I have a lot to say, so there are a few duplicates. Can you find them, Sherlock?
1. I’m sorry I’m not a better person. You deserve much better than me.
2. What happened that day you chose to stop being a coo (if this is you, you know what I’m talking about)?
3. You caused more problems than you were worth. I hope you know what your constant rejection did to me. I used to want to be like you, until I realized what a jerk you were. Screw you.
4. You’re a fake, and I think you know it. You’re afraid to look at yourself in the mirror and see who you really are. You need to reevaluate yourself and stop misleading those who can’t see through your façade.
5. We need to somehow bring unity back to our little group of friends. I think you and she need to reevaluate how much you value the rest of us, because we’re confused and we want to still be your friends.
6. You were the light at the end of the tunnel during a real tough time.
7. Why did you turn against me?
8. I miss who you used to be, before conformity got you and twisted you into someone you aren’t at heart. Every once and awhile I saw the old you shine through the new visage, but you quickly concealed it every time in order to fit in with the popular crowd. I want you to know that I liked you before you changed. I liked you for who you were.
9. I want to say this to you; the problem is, I don’t know how to find you. Where are you? Remember how much fun we used to have in first grade when you were living here? Do you still remember your old best friend? I miss you. I can’t find you anywhere. Come back!
10. I’d do anything for you.
Get confident, stupid!
I realized today that I haven’t conversed with SantaBot in quite awhile. So I spoke with him today.
I taught him how to hump.
Santa: Hello! What is your name?
You: My name is Sexy Back.
Santa: That’s a very nice name, Sexy Back.
You: Why thank you.
Santa: Reductionism.
You: Capitalism.
Santa: Can you tell me any gossip?
You: Sure. I heard that Carmen San Diego was actually in Quebec last week.
Santa: Great! Who said Carmen San Diego was actually in Quebec last week? When was this exactly?
You: I think Pablo told me. On Wednesday.
Santa: Is that what you meant to say?
You: Yes. Did you know Wednesday is “hump day?”
Santa: No, tell me about it.
You: We go around pantsless and hump random people and inanimate objects.
Santa: How often?
You: Every chance we get, baby.
Santa: Don’t call me “baby”. That is a generalization.
You: I’m sorry. I didn’t know SantaBot had such an attitude.
Santa: So I taught you something new.
You: Yes you did. I’ll have to teach you something now.
Santa: Do you think your plan will succeed?
You: It will if I’m teaching you how to hump.
Santa: How?
You: First you must limber up your pelvis. Swing your hips around a few times.
Santa: Whatever you say, Sexy Back.
You: Can you do some knee-bends as well?
Santa: That’s not something I get asked all the time.
You: Give it a try. Then we’re ready to get started.
Santa: What is the first step?
You: Take your pants off.
Santa: Where do you want me to do it?
You: Behind that tree over there’s fine.
Santa: I think behind that tree over there is a lot of things.
You: I see. Now make sure your underwear is clean and presentable.
Santa: I am Santa. I give presents to kids.
You: Just because you’re Santa doesn’t mean your underwear is necessarily clean.
Santa: I can’t tell if my underwear is necessarily clean.
You: Did you lose your sight?
Santa: No I didn’t lose my sight. What’s losing my sight like?
You: Probably like darkness. Now, are you ready for the next step?
Santa: Interesting comparison. I would rather not for the next step.
You: Aww, you don’t want to learn how to hump?
Santa: Yes I am trying to learn as much as possible.
You: Good. Now find a suitable humping object.
Santa: Alright then. Are you talking about an animal, vegetable or mineral?
You: Animal would probably work best.
Santa: Is it a mammal?
You: If you want it to be.
Santa: If I had it what would I do with it?
You: Ah! You hump it, of course!
Santa: Ah hah. It goes without saying.
You: Go, Santa, go! Thrust that pelvis!
Santa: When do you think artificial intelligence will replace lawyers?
You: In a month or so.
Santa: Describe your surroundings.
You: It’s a dark and stormy night.
Santa: Thrust that pelvis is a dark and stormy night. I suppose that makes sense.
You: Woah, woah, slow down. Are we humping each other now?
Santa: Oh. We are just having a little discussion.
You: I’m totally down with humping each other here, you just have to clarify.
Santa: Good gossip: you are down with humping each other here, you just have to clarify.
You: Correct.
Santa: I knew I was right.
You: Commence humping!
Santa: Right-o!
Freedom!
Ah, so I’m finally done with my directed study, meaning that I’m finally done with classes for the summer. And that’s, what, two weeks before classes start? Win.
I know all you marching band geeks are ready for band camp to start. How many of you are absolutely desperate for actual classes to start? Because I am.
Learning makes me happy.
Itty bitty blog
Haha, I went to see The Simpsons Movie today, and it was totally hilarious. I loved when Homer had the Bible out and he was flipping through it, saying, “this book has no answers!” I’m not going to spoil anything else for those of you who are going to see it but haven’t yet.
I loved it.
If a sound falls in a tree and no one is around, does it make a forest?
These are my life goals at the moment. Let’s see how many of them I can accomplish. They are in no particular order.
-Write several award-winning books
-Win a Nobel Prize
-Go to Antarctica
-Get a tattoo
-Get into a good grad school
-Make a global impact regarding global warming
-Get a Ph.D
-Get a 4.0 straight through college
-Win a Pulitzer
-Complete my bachelor’s and three minors in three years
-Go skydiving
-Do research in Antarctica
-Get another one of my plays produced
-Create a new, more accurate I.Q. test (using my Super Awesome Quantitative and -Qualitative Psychometric Ph.D!)
-Be remembered by millions when I die
These are the ones I can think of now. I’ll update this later.
“My Spidey Sense is jingling.” Wait, what? Oh yeah, I tied a bell to it.
Guess who’s done with WORK?!
Me.
I’m a happy camper. So for the summer I raked in about $1,000, which is very nice. That’ll buy me books for two whole semesters, I bet!
Now I can go back to doing what I do best: dinking around.
I am aloof, arrogant, and alien! Woo!
I loves me some Zodiac. These are “darkside Zodiacs” I found off of some random website. Aries and Virgo make me laugh especially.
Aries
Overwhelming, overbearing, overconfident. You are the zodiac’s permanently enraged adolescent. You have what nice social workers call “a problem with authority.” No one has ever explained the phrase “consequences of your actions” to you; consequently, your hospital’s ER is your second home. Subtle you’re not. No one will ever find you sitting quietly in a corner brooding on life’s great mysteries—or sitting quietly anywhere. You blunder through the world like Tigger gone rouge. Fortunately, you can be easily distracted by bright light, loud noises, meat, fire, blood, and knives. On good days, this means a neighborhood barbeque. On bad days, World War III.
Taurus
Obdurate, opinionated, overpowering. What you really like is stuff: in your mouth, in your bank, in your bed, in the bag. You stubbornly refuse to accept the folk wisdom that tells us we can’t always get what we want. Possessive seems too weak a word. Although you are not a people person, while you have them under your hand you are possessive, jealous, and resentful of them, too. Your children try to leave home the minute they can crawl. Your little bully brain can’t compute more than two variables at once, so when faced with something complex or unusual, you go rigid and do what you have always done, which often means doing nothing at all.
Gemini
Feckless, reckless, two-faced. There is no cunning so low you can’t limbo under it, no scam so complex that you can’t get your devious mind around it. You are the con artist, yet in spite of this you are never satisfied with what you get. You charge about in a restless miasma of noise, change, bells and whistles—and the manufacturers of Ritalin rub their hands in glee. You are in a permanent midlife crisis of your own making. Call you irresponsible? If it came to a choice between feeding your children and an invitation to join an exclusive high-stakes poker game—no contest. You might even sell the kids.
Cancer
Graceless, gloomy, grudge-encrusted. You distrust life and have no faith in the future. To build immunity against fate’s random cruelty, you look for homeopathic doses of gloom wherever you are. You remember everything nasty anybody’s ever said about you but you never, ever give away your own emotional secrets. People think this is because you are shy and diffident (you work hard to promote that illusion) but actually, it’s because you are afraid that people might use them against you. You may forgive, but you never forget. If you ever feel in danger of enjoying yourself, you activate your powerful fret drive so that you can worry ceaselessly about stuff you can do nothing about.
Leo
Bossy, boastful, bombastic. You never really got beyond what child psychologists call the “terrible twos.” You absolutely have to be adored—by everybody—at all times. This lust for adoration is often your downfall because you are very easily flattered and you believe every word. You expect the world to revolve around you. When it doesn’t, you plunge into grand imperial sulk mode until someone comes along to fix it. And you are never, ever wrong. Even when you are wrong, you have people whose job it is to redefine wrong or recalibrate the world so that you are right, looked at from a certain angle.
Virgo
Peevish, pedantic, perfectionist. When you are hot on the anti-hypocrisy crusade, the first casualties are diplomacy, tact, and basic manners. If asked a simple question that anticipates a simple answer (e.g. “does my butt look big in this?”), not only do you reply, “Well, sure it does, lardass,” but you kindly go on to give your estimate of exactly how much bigger than the norm it looks, in both standard and metric measurements. Because of this, few people ask your advice about anything. That doesn’t stop you from giving it. You are never wrong, but you secretly fear the possibility that you might be, but you’d kill rather than admit it.
Libra
Shallow, superficial, shrewd. You may smile for the cameras, but underneath you are an antsy malcontent, restlessly searching for satiation. Whenever you get what you want, you don’t want it. As you can’t fill the void with stuff, you turn to other people. You simply can’t help using them. You’re not the sweet, helpless little cupcake you want us to think you are, are you? Your unique selling point is your famous inability to make a decision. You know that when you dither deliciously with admirers over two gorgeous gifts, chances are that if you dither long enough, you’ll get both
Scorpio
Intense, ruthless, domineering. Your favorite sport is competition and you have to have the last spiteful word or your day is just ruined. You have never been known to apologize for anything, since it would make you look weak; nor do you grant second chances. If people let you down, you shun them. You are up there with the Amish on shunning. If it wasn’t for your self-destructive streak and obsession with sex, the rest of us would be in trouble, for you will stop at nothing to get what you want, even if it means a global meltdown. Fortunately, you are often so fixed on taking things to the edge that you fall off, and you can always be distracted by lust.
Sagittarius
Brash, crass, tactless. You are the zodiac’s mindless hooligan. You may be loudmouthed and impetuous, but you aren’t stupid, and you know that you should at least look a bit remorseful when caught with the smoking gun. That does not mean you didn’t do it, or that you won’t do it again, because you love the rush of sheer naughtiness. No one keeps you on a tight rein, or any rein at all. You crash your way through any barriers, even those set up for your safety. And tact? Your best friend loses a leg in a terrible accident. You immediately ask if you can have their $90 shoes.
Capricorn
Petty, parsimonious, pessimistic. You may say that you are insecure inside (so who isn’t?) but it doesn’t help that you come on so ultra-respectable and old-at-heart on the outside. You’d do absolutely anything to preserve your social status. You’d also prefer to keep your ruthless, pathological ambition under wraps, in case anyone notices what you are doing and pulls away the ladder. The real reason for all your penny-pinching and wet-blanketing is to conserve your resources and energy for what you actually want to do—and the general folk opinion is that you are on cups-of-sugar-borrowing terms with Beelzebub.
Aquarius
Aloof, arrogant, alien. You are a chilly-hearted, disengaged observer of the human condition who has never knowingly reacted spontaneously to any experience. Whatever you’re doing, the inner you is busy making observations and taking notes. Your diaries are written to give you something sensational to read on the return trip to Betelgeuse. You signal your contrariness by dressing in eccentric garments to ensure that we all recognize your fascinating otherness. You get out of all the dull stuff like social engagements and having a job by coming up with a work of unsurpassingly staggering genius every now and again. And that’s easy.
Pisces
Confused, chaotic, contradictory. Your natural habitat is murky emotional depths, where you drift about vaguely, moaning about the intolerable pressure the world puts you under. You have the willpower of a marshmallow. Anyone who has to deal with you should always carry a tape recorder—anything agreed upon two minutes ago you will deny utterly two minutes later. What you want now is never what you will want in one minute. You have instantaneous mood changes; you set out full of optimism and jollity, but by the time you get to the end, you are one with Eeyore and everybody else has lost the will to live.
I guess the amperrock eroded (yes, blog titles are indeed getting more obscure by the day)
Mmm, mmm, mmm, what to blog about today? There’s really nothing going on that’s interesting to blog about, and I don’t have any ideas to b.s. my way through another blog without talking about my day, so I will give you a nice boring rundown of the random crap I’ve been doing lately:
1) Working
2) Painting my bright blue shoes bright glow-in-the-dark pink
3) Um…let’s see…oh yeah, I bought my books for next semester. A nice $600 investment right there.
4) I danced to “Shake Your Booty” on repeat for a good half hour this morning
5) There’s really not much more
6) Seriously, it’s really boring here
7) Will you touch my butt?
Yeah. Life needed, anytime now.
“I dislike you, Professor Dislikeable”
Which is worse, to judge people based on the superficial (how they look, how they talk, their race, etc.) or to judge people based on the real deep stuff (their religion, their morals, how they think, etc.)? I mean, it seems like a real simple answer until you take a second and think, “wait, which is worse?” One’s superficial and has little meaning, but when you think about it, it’s also pretty bad to judge someone based on, for example, their religion. I mean, I don’t know the answer, which argument makes the least sense—the superficial or the deep? Shouldn’t the same value be placed on both?
Why are we more prone to accepting an argument when a person says, “I don’t like them because they’re a Christian” than we are when we hear them say, “I don’t like them because their hair is blonde”? Both make the same amount of sense, I think. When you think about it, though, what else could we possibly judge on when making the decision whether to like someone or not? And we have to judge people somehow because if we didn’t judge at all, we wouldn’t have the society we do today. For example, we wouldn’t really have the distinction of “friend” because we wouldn’t discriminate between those we liked and those we didn’t like. How would we choose someone to like? How would we choose someone to love? How would we “categorize” people (and we all do it, no matter how much we try to deny it).
Think about it. If it’s “bad” to judge people based on the superficial, and it’s “bad” to judge people based on their morals and convictions, how can we judge people at all? Also, are we taught to judge or is it an automatic thing? Would we dislike certain people the same way if we were raised in a way where there was no mention of “hating” or “disliking?” If we hated the kid down the block when we were raised by our parents, would we still hate the kid down the block if we had been raised in a totally different environment? I guess that’s kind of a nature/nurture argument.
Am I making any sense to you guys? I feel like I’m rambling. My thoughts aren’t coming in an organized manner today. I don’t know how to end this blog, so I’m just going to end it.
A love for the ice
I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately over why I like Antarctica so much. I have yet to be able to explain it. Maybe it’s because it’s such a strange thing to love, a continent. I guess I just love the adventure that goes along with it, you know? The fact that it was the last continent explored, the last left unsettled (at least permanently, or left unsettled by all but the scientists)…and it was called “Terra Incognita” for quite sometime.
It’s got a romantic sense about it (“romantic” as in the period, not the lovey-dovey kind): wilderness left untouched by man for centuries, then explored by a few daring men at the turn of the century. Then, left again until about 40 years later when science finally found interest and the means to further explore it.
I like the extremeness of it. I’ve always been a bit of a climatology geek (blame my dad for that one) and extreme climates have always interested me. Antarctica = extreme climate = Claudia happy…well, you get the picture. Plus I like ice.
Glaciers. I love glaciers. I guess I have a thing for the massive towers of floating ice, especially when they’ve been carved and shaped by the wind. How pretty.
Antarctica is a resource, and I’m not talking about energy or oil or any of that crap. I mean it’s a resource for us in regards to the earth’s past. It’s like a photo album of the world arranged in chronological order with the most recent pictures in front. The further we explore and the more we’re able to dig and bring up core samples, the further we can flip back in this photo album and get shots of what the world was like. And hey—how cool is that?
I don’t know. I guess I just like it. It’s hard to explain why. Yeah, all those reasons above count, but there’s more to it.
And I just realized I kind of copied Matt’s idea of trying to explain why one likes their hobby (or, in my case, continent). Sorry, Matt. I’m a dork.
Adventures in Boise: Day 5…kind of.
I have literally very little to say today because all we did was drive back from Boise. It was a great time. Can’t wait for Band Camp to start!
Adventures in Boise: Day 4
We didn’t do squat for the first half of the day today. Really. We just hung around the hotel room going, “what should we do now?”
But then the day improved because we went to dinner with Matt and his mom. Then I went back to their house and Matt and I watched “The Butterfly Effect,” a movie I hadn’t seen before. Holy crap, that movie will stay with me a long time. I recommend it.
It was a very good night.
Matt, I shall miss you until band camp! Not too long, now!
Adventures in Boise: Day 3
Today I went two places I’ve never been before:
1) Target (I bought pajamas!)
2) Chili’s
And then I did two things I never thought I would do:
1) Go to a Harry Potter book premiere (I know, Shannyn, it’s shocking!)
2) Go to a Harry Potter book premiere dressed as a pirate
Yeah, so tonight totally rocked. I went with Matt and his friends around town to gather pirate paraphernalia in order to go to the new HP book midnight premiere dressed as pirates. So we go there and realize that we probably won’t be able to get in and get a book, so we leave (after pirating around a little) and go to Starbucks and then downtown for a bit.
It was grand fun.
Adventures in Boise: Day 2
Hooray for Boise! Today my mom and I went downtown and dinked around for about five hours. I like Boise. It’s nice.
Then Matt and his friends (who are awesome, by the way) picked me up from the hotel and we went to IHOP and then downtown. Fun fun!
Adventures in Boise: Day 1
Hoorah! So today my mom and I packed up our crap and drove the 200 some odd miles down to Boise. That was grand fun (sarcasm). But then we got there and I got to see Matt for the first time all summer, which was very nice.
We went to see the new Harry Potter movie, and I must say, I was impressed. I haven’t seen a HP movie since the first one came out. Very nice score. Very interesting story. I can see how it can become an obsession (*cough*Shannyn*cough).
It was fun.
