Spectators of the Spectacles

Neither one of Foster Parents liked my glasses. (predicted) 🙂 I LOVE THEM.

I apologize dearly for taking the photo in the bathroom. I did not want to get into trouble for doing it in study hall. (e.e) Excuse also that I am not wearing makeup. I am trying to rough it for a while. See how I like natural.

I am just now noticing that my roots are growing in brown, and that makes me super happy. It was a terrible mistake that I made to dye my hair black. It has no depth and it doesn’t look natural.

My forehead looks big…

So, my glasses are supposed to represent everything that I am: hippie, vegetarian, artist, writer/blogger, college kid…

You know the works.

My next goal is to show you guys some art, because I have been slacking, and I need to draw I think.

New diet is now tea, soup, and gaming.

Wish me luck. Thank you for reading, and thank you again for following me if you are. It is surely my main source of happiness.

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I haven’t been on facebook often, and I went a rather long time without it. I don’t have a million friends and I don’t like any of the apps on facebook. None of them are useful. I have realized that I don’t go on fb when I have better things to do. i.e. play my DS, blog, have a life… All sorts of things.

I cannot stand what people use fb for. It should be a quirky saying  and then “I just jumped over a barrel of barracudas.” Not, “Im like at da mall agen an i wanna hang wid sombodi.” Are you kidding me America? WHAT DO YOU KIDS DO ALL DAY? I know that I go to school. I am no genius, but I know how to use apostrophes and use the spelling power of that over a five-year old. How did you make it through grade-school? It is degrading, and I have a low tolerance for average people who have more than their fair of schooling, and do not use it. There are people who would happily take your spot, and rock it. If you have time to write that you are at the mall, then post five pictures of yourself standing at the mall, change your relationship status every half hour, and post about how quickly you blew that $20 dollars you stole from your mom, things you poor mall-rats do every DAY, then you shouldn’t have a fb account. — You should have a Twitter account, where you can post extremely pointless things constantly, learn things from First World Facts, and not have to bug any of your friends.

Or, you should be using your time to learn a new language, planning your future, and buying clothes that fit you. (Cleavage can be nice, but never on jail-bait. Cover it up. And guys, pull up your pants.)

Thank you for reading my rant, and have a good day. 🙂

Post Script: This is why you have not been seeing me on facebook. WordPress is where it’s at.

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Epic Mickey

Bought myself this for x-mas on the 3DS, and I like it. It is thoroughly entertaining, and kept me up late last night.

It makes me want to draw cartoons, and skip school.

Cannot wait until lunch-time.

GOT MY GLASSES! I have to put a picture on here. They just scream college student, artist, hippie, vegetarian,  blogger, dubstep fanatic, so on and so forth. (Strike a pose!)

Oh, I am nearly done with high-school. I think that I am graduating in two months. I have to, I have no choice, but almost done!

Plans: Graduate, celebrate with energy drinks and a couple of tattoos. Piercings included. (One classical Pitbull and a pokeball somewhere.)

Go to Juneau/Anchorage. RAVES. (hugs, not drugs.)

College for associates degree because I don’t know what I want to do.

Go to the states for exotic animal training.

Go to Borneo in Southeast Asia to feed Proboscis monkeys.

Be a hobo and go to more school.

My human capital will be so amazing, that…. Well, it is hard to get jobs working with animals, because everybody wants to do it. It is hard to stick out, but I think I can do this. 🙂

Who knows, I might want to be a history teacher. All of my favorite teachers were history teachers. They are always so amazed at what happened back then, and it has never failed to make me read the text-books. XD

Okay. Thank you for reading. Have a good day.

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Red Neckin’

I darn right ‘ter’ wanna put ‘dat dang tootin’ cuppa’ joe in ‘da’ microwavey.

(I want to microwave my coffee.)

I want to speak redneck, and I try, but to achieve the fluency that I would like, I need to travel to the states. Any suggestions? I think that Texas would have too many Mexicans, and I am terrible at Spanish, but I was told that Missouri would be a good starting place.

It will be a risky trip though, because of all of the back roads and cannibals. (I would be stringy and bony. I have hardly any fat/meat to spare.) I also would be completely unaware of the shooting ranges and their arrangements. Everything with room for a beer can is a shooting range down there, so I am considering investing in some bullet-proof vests and a kevlar body suit-bright orange. My feelings are that I would be found anyways.

Maybe there won’t be food there! That’s why they are always eating people, and practicing shooting and throwing bombs in lakes. That is why they kill everything in their path!

I don’t think that I will be able to prepare…………….

Ummm… When am I getting tickets? Well…. (*Scurries off into closet and puts on mask*) (that didn’t need to make sense.)

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Tabasco Sauce

Let me tell you now, that I am wimpier than an elephant facing a mouse (Mythbusters proved that elephants, are in fact, afraid of mice) when it comes to spicy food. I think that spicy things cover up the flavor of foods and also melts taste buds, making it so you don’t have the ability to taste food, making it okay to use spicy toppings. I just don’t do spicy. On the Scoville scale I am at about 800 for spicy limits. (Banana peppers, pepperoncini) That, my friend, is no exaggeration.

Now, where in the world does tabasco sauce come in? Here it is: My roommate is ridiculously addicted to the stuff. She puts it in everything, and then some. I am not sure that she cares what the food tastes like, because as long as it has “Da Sauce” on it, then she is good. When we go to restaurants and there isn’t her sauce, she either orders and takes it home to sauce it, or she will leave. She is so serious about her sauce, that she takes sides. Tapatio sauce is the rivaling sauce, and she wouldn’t resort to using it if she was stuck in a Nazi base in Atlantis.

So, the last time that we ran out of “Da Sauce”, I watched her put about 3 fl. oz. of all of the hot sauces we had in the fridge on her burrito and rice! (NOT the tapatio, of course.) I looked at her plate, turned, and said to Foster Parent, “We need to go shopping.”

That made her laugh.

I made sure that we got two smaller Tabascos this time. One for home, and one on the go. 🙂

Thank you for reading, and have a good day.

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Ivy Plant Work

I got sudden inspiration to work on my plant, and did a huge amount of pruning. I had let the plant grow to be huge, and it was taking over my window-sill. I think that the slow releasing fertilizer pellets had finally wasted away, and it needed some help over-all. I cut off all of the small and new growths of vines, and kept it at five vines altogether. I pinched back almost all of the leafs. The biggest leaf you can see, near the top of the picture, is about a third of the size of the full-grown leafs. The height went from about a foot and a half, to 10 inches at the tallest.

For fertilizer, I put some of the crystal formed fertilizer for houseplants into a teabag, and set the tea bag in the middle of the five vines I kept. (They make the shape of a star.^-^<) The amount of fertilizer was miniscule just to be on the safe side. This plant is like a weed in disguise, and it has made it through everything I have done to it, so far. But, safety first.

I really did cut a lot off. I am more than sure that the plant will be fine, even though I took off more than two-thirds of the thing. I am especially proud of the vine in front, because it had the most tiny leaves of all of the vines, and was the shortest. They are all starting to develop a very thin and papery bark too, which makes me all the more certain that this bonsai thing is going to work out.

I have read a lot online about people saying bonsai ivy plants were impossible to make without stealing from an old plant. As my sister had gotten me this plant last year for my birthday, I decided that I was going to keep for as long as possible. That means using the art of bonsai. Isn’t part of the art having patience? This plant is going to get old whether you internet folk like it or not, and I am set on proving people wrong.

It couldn’t be that hard, right? 🙂 I am just waiting to see which one of the vines does the best, and that will be the vine I keep for 20 or 50 years. All in time.

Random link

I saw a huge root that stuck up from one of the vines, and I put a marble under it. I think that in a couple of months I will upgrade to a pretty rock. Maybe it will develop into a root over rock thing. 🙂 I am so ready for this.

Oh, I have considered replacing those tacky sticks with a dead, gnarly, smooth, and bleached branch. I think that I will have to wait to find one from a beach. I, am, so, excited.

But something that has gotten me to wondering is how I am going to take this with me on my travels. Or, where is is going to be kept when I head out to college? I have a few ideas, but I haven’t quite asked anybody yet.

I should downsize to a smaller pot to help myself out with this problem. But I had just put the plant in this pot not seven months ago. Well, as I had said before, this plant has made it through everything I have done to it, so I think that I should start investing into a new pot with better soil. Bonsai style.

Now, time for some soil research. 🙂 Thank you for listening, and have a good day.


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Unofficial Smither’s Love Song, By My Favorite Martian. Need to watch if you haven’t.

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I was not allowed to go, initially. I was told that I was still earning my privileges back and whatnot. I refused to take that answer. I do this study hall thing on the weekends for school, and it is to either catch up or be a consequence. Either way, it is no fun, and I am very bad at sitting around and not talking to people. Well, moving on, I offered Foster Parent 5 whole days of study hall. This is no breaks and no food no talking stuff. It is the elite master’s group of schooling. (except for the fact that I am blogging right now) They track progress and check work and report to parents. So, 5 days of 8:00 to 4:00, with an hour lunch. It might not sound so bad to you, but I could be doing something much more productive, like watching reruns of Big Bang Theory and Friends. (Kung Fu Panda is on my favorites list too.)

I also had to whip out the guilt. I told Foster Parent that I am not going to be going to any more high school dances, which is purely true. I’m not. This was the last dance. I graduate in a couple of months. 🙂 He let me go, but not without the 5 days of study hall.

So, how did the dance go? It was okay. This is a small town, and I believe strongly that the school should be paying the kids to go, because we would have gotten more desperately needed dancers. The music was terrible, as only the good-graded preps got to arrange the dance. (Theme was 007.) The was ONE good song, it was Satisfaction, by Benny Benassi. Oh, runner-up was Gangnam Style. That one never loses. 🙂

I only knew about ten people, which is good, seeing as I don’t even go to the school that it was held in. For the first half hour, everybody was just sitting around, like small-town high-school  kids should, and then, half an hour of lame dancing. (retardo music, mind you) and then a FULL HOUR OF DISTRAUGHT TEENS. Here is why. All of the boys were expecting dates or something, that didn’t show, and then when they did, they were with somebody else. So, they were sitting there doing nothing. Ten dollars for bad music AND being sad? Over rated. But they got over it and stood around for the last half hour. I am sure they wanted to dance deep down. Adell and bruno mars aren’t beats to resist. (Sarcasm is a low form of humor.)

Then, after I had asked people to dance with me millions of times, and them running away from me in their new-found depression, I bawsed eet awn da dance flo’. With my best friend/roommate. It was way fun, and I am afraid it all payed off in the end.

After the dance, I hopped in a van for the treatment kids and went to mcdonalds. (Not to eat, I was just in the car for the drive-through.) Then, the boys said that they felt bad for not dancing with me.

They should have been. They missed out.

I was violated a few times, by a guy I knew. It was inappropriate, and I had to ask him to stop. 🙂 Then my body-guard stared him down. (She is an ex-gangster, and is no joke to mess around with. ROR.) I did tell people that she was my body-guard. It made us laugh to see the looks on people’s faces.

So, I made it to the dance…

I stayed up until 3am, and then got up at 8:30 to go to my contracted study hall deal. Now I am writing this.

Time goes by pretty slow around here… This only took 15 minutes to write…. (I got here late.)

So, thank you for reading, and know that you are lucky for living in a bigger town/city than I do. I am going to a rave in March though, and I am raving the crap out of that rave. I will be raving on caffeine and pure joy.

Now, Hugs, Not Drugs.

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Crazy Cow Productions

Lives where I live. HERE, in ALASKA! Can you believe it? Crazy Cow Productions  is an amazing artist, with tons of commissions and tons of amazing story ideas, with the right art to suit it. Plus, he works at the mall here, and I go to hang out with him.

Here is how I met him…

I went to the store where he works, and ended up talking to him because I am social. We talked a bit about gaming, like Legend of Zelda, and Pokemon. Then, we talked about art. He pointed out to us that he draws whenever he is talking with dumb costumers, and it just looks like he is taking notes. I want a job where I get to do that! He has a perma-quizzical look, with glasses that fall low on his nose when he is drawing. He is famous too. In Alaska, that is about as famous as it gets. I once met the Letterman, but nobody knows who they are, so here is this internet famous artistic anime prodigy for ya. Check him out.

Do I know his real name? No. I just call him crazy cow, and he calls me dreads. (Not really, I just wish people would.) I will now tell him to look at my blog and confirm our year-long friendship. 🙂

Thank you for reading, and have a good day.

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