Confusion

The last four lines in this picture. Read them.

Balderdash word for deer poop is how people find my blog?

I don't know if I should be hurt or proud.

This happens when I'm bored

I do math good: A follow up

It was as I had feared.

Well, not EXACTLY as I had feared.

I had expected a gray carpet but there was instead that disgusting oh-so-public-school white tile with the little pink and blue flecks and instead of smelling like lemon pledge it smelled like beans and fear.  I did, however, have my disturbing bright pink calculator, there were rows of desks, and I did frantically scramble on one problem.

But the good news is, I ALMOST finished!

Yay me!

I do math good

     That title was not grammatically correct. If you are troubled by this, fuck off, you have no right to be here.
     So. This weekend, I am going to take a math placement test.
     It shall tell me if I'm a complete idiot, partial idiot, or genius. Those are the only categories offered. And according to my current math teacher, I will be attempting to reach out from the depths of complete idiot hood into the dim fluorescent lighting of the partials.
     She has faith in me though.
     So it's not all bad.
     She truly believes I have the potential to become more than the category in her mind labeled "FUCKING STUPID."
     But anyway, I, like the other numerous lemmings, will make my way into a large, desk-filled room, which will smell like lemon pledge and and have a gray carpet.
     We will sit, and I will take out my ridiculous bright pink calculator, and then I will have a mental breakdown because I KNOW NOTHING.
     Then, in a frantic haze of half-remembered formulas, I will attempt to solve one problem.
     Then time will be up.

     Also, I don't know what genius decided to make me take a math test about math I learned last year, but they should not be working with children if they do not understand the concept of the Summer Atrophy of the Brain.
     This was a mild attempt to pour all my stress out onto you, dear reader.
   
     That is all.

Celebrities

I am going to list certain celebrities and my opinions of them, as I am bored and feeling fat, therefor it has become necessary to become a scary blogger who hides in a dark space, eating Nutella and dressing cats. Here goes.

Daniel Radcliffe-I don't know why you popped into my head. Maybe because you're British and I like that. You should stick with it, it works for you. Or maybe English. Who the fuck knows. Also, I heard you are going to be Allen Ginsburg in Kill Your Darlings. That's alright, but James Franco will always be Allen Ginsburg to me.

James Franco-I enjoyed watching you kiss Aaron Tveit in Howl.

Aaron Tveit- OH. MY. GOD. You are a FUCKING god. You're like Jesus, but BETTER. And Jesus makes wine from water. Thats fucked up. But I think everyone can agree that seeing you singing about how you'd live forever whilst standing before thousands of people in your boxers is like a mind orgasm.

Kim Kardashian- You...you're fucked up.

Avril Lavigne- I'm amazed that your hair hasn't gotten up and left you after how bitchy you've been to it.

Lady Gaga- See above.

Kelly Clarkson- I know waffles are good. I do. And I appreciate your music. But we all have our limits.

Neil Patrick Harris- You are like my baby.

Anne Hathaway- You are a very talented person, and capable of being very sad and singing about it. Also, you wore cool fingerless gloves in Les Mis, and I thoroughly enjoyed your performance. However, I cannot forgive you for Catwoman. I'm sorry. You're still half dead to me.

Neil Young- Stop. Just stop.

Leonardo Dicaprio- You are my other favorite sex God. I love you.

Dane Dehaal- You are one of my favorite actors of all time. You are the love child of Brad Pitt and Leonardo Dicaprio.

Taylor Swift- I used to love you. And then you made Red and I realized "Dear god...she's become a sheep."


That is all.

Goodness, I could be an entire Greek chorus all by myself.

CHICKEN SCRATCH

I...

Have not been on here in a very long time.

In the blurry haze of that's-what-she-said jokes and Psych-induced feelings that filled the last few months, I have had a creeping sense of guilt that I haven't written anything. I apologize for my absence.

Not that people really read this blog or would particularly miss it, but I still feel like I owe it to past-me, the sad, misguided fool that said "I'm going to start a blog and write STUFF in it!"

How silly of me.

But anyway, I needed to write something, sooo....

That's what this is.

I have no idea what to say.

This is like one of those moments when you've been mentally writing stories in your head for the last three weeks and then your English teacher gives you paper and is like "WRITE, PEASANT!" and the only thing you can think of is repeatedly stating that you don't know what to write. But in different ways, so by the end you're saying stuff like "The vague possibilities of chicken scratch to scrawl upon this page have fled my mind."

Yeah.

That.

Also-how funny would it be if Russell Crowe wore a dress?

This...this is what goes on in my head.

Seriously, though.

That would be fucking hilarious.

I apologize for this post.

Why we study Chinese history

The other day, I was looking through my notes app. A mind the lists of food that shouldn't exist, the fighting foodons theme song, and pages of various Emojicons, I discovered an essay I did in history class about why we study Chinese history. Please keep in mind, this was past me. Not present me. Also, I used the word hyperness. Lord help us.


     We study Chinese history because someday, the Chinese will be our overlords. Oops. Did I say overlords? I meant protecters. I know this because everything, and I mean everything, says "made in China" on it. Oh, nice going, USA. Buying products from the Chinese will only encourage that they are good builders, and then they will realize that they can use their factories to make nukes. They will hide said nukes in a secret nuclear bunker, which will most likely be labeled "taxidermy and cheese" to deflect suspicion. Because, in a show of hands, how many of you would go into a building labeled "taxidermy and cheese"? Not many, right? When they have enough, they will paint their faces, put on their pointy hats, and charge. Most likely they will have been prepared to fight long, hard wars with a fit, strong, and democratic country, in which they could make several fight scenes for a documentary about how they conquered America that take place on lakes of lava with lightning in the background. Instead, they will get a short war and several surrenders. What up, America?! After they have successfully conquered us, we will be sent to underground moisture farms where we will live off self-grown mushrooms, being presided over by their army of robots. The people who managed to escape will be living in caves and preparing an army of weasels. Weasels, being the only animal flexible, furry, and sharp enough makes them the obvious choice. When ready, the weasels will be unleashed in a furry storm of rabidity. For those who don't know: rabidity means high-energy and hyperness. The weasels are not literally rabid. It will be a long hard battle, in which several valiant weasels die to the robots, but the bands of freedom weasels, nicknamed the freesels, will chew through the cages that contain humans in the moisture farms. They will then gnaw through the control booth wires that control the robots, effectively wiping the out. The Chinese will be infuriated. The remaining humans and weasels will fight them. It will be a long and hard battle, but we will pull through. When the Chinese have been sent back to China, we will once again control them. And then one weasel, Jacob, will rise up, kill everyone, and rule the world.



UPDATE: To be clear, I have nothing against the Chinese. You guys are cool. This was my young,      strange, and slightly racist self.