<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/11633202?origin\x3dhttp://titothegreatshareshisthoughts.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

11 October 2005

♥ Life-Ruiners

Okay, God, you win! Guys, I think all this Christian-bashing must have finally gotten back to God, because it's looking like he's setting little booby traps for me all over the place. Jeez. Ack! So I know this is probably getting a little repetitive, but here's a list of things that are, at present, really pissing me off.
  • Incompetence: Ack! There is nothing more annoying than group projects, especially when people feign helplessness. I mean, come on, we're talking in terms of AP classes here... no one is ACTUALLY stupid. Just lazy. Or... okay, fine, maybe a little stupid.
  • Hypocrites: Gah! Here's something annoying: when people lecture you on something they do themselves. F'risntance, say you had a friend that suddenly tried to make you feel like a bad person for dating their ex-boyfriend. I mean, just suppose. But what if they're dating your ex-boyfriend too?! Eh? EH? That's the kind of thing I'm talking about. Or what if they tell you you've become preppy and are wearing too much makeup BUT they wear clothes exclusively of Aeropostale, American Eagle, Abercrombie, and various other very alphabetical preppy brands? And wear so much makeup that people say, "Wow, she'd be pretty if she didn't wear so much goddamned makeup!" Or what if they're so immature that they write you little stories (not-so-cleverly designed as notes) instead of talking to you to your face and then bitch at you for being mad and not telling them about it. Just supposing, this is. Entirely hypothetical. Whoops, almost said hypocritical.
  • Immaturity: Argh! Okay, I know we touched on this in the "Hypocrites" bit, but I just have a wee bit more to say. I'm not pretending to be mature. In fact, I often quote the ancient Blink-182ian proverb, "Youth may be fleeting, but, when properly preserved, immaturity can last forever." I'm all about the immaturity. But there's a fine line between immature and downright obnoxious. No, scratch that, there's a big, fat, glow-in-the-dark line. And writing a three-page note / story to someone about how they're preppy now and you don't like them because they're dating your ex-boyfriend and they're no longer following you around and fawning over you definitely crosses it. A number of times. I mean, this crosses the line, goes back across it and does a jig, and then recrosses the line. Several times.
  • Mormons: Just kidding. I like all the mormons I know, and that includes Donny Osmond (who, at age 47, is a grandfather). But I'm pretty sure Joe - a.k.a. "The Stormin' Mormon" told God about me.
  • Stop-Motion Filming: Ever since we watched that video in art, the idea that it takes 24 frames to make one second of a film is completely jostling my very brains. Seriously, it's freaking me out. Just the thought of readjusting a little clay figuring 240987934876982 times (that's a rough approximation, mind you... meaning I tapped the number side of the keyboard until a satisfactory number of digits was reached) makes me want to scream. Especially because I know that as soon as I would touch the little thing, it would crumble and I'd have to start all over. Stupid claymation is ruining my life. I like Wallace and Grommit, though.
  • Neopolitan Ice Cream: I want some. Why is there none in my freezer? You know what, though, if I think about it long enough I won't want it anymore, because it'll get me to thinking about how the chocolate in Neopolitan Ice Cream is always low-quality. Gross.
  • The shirt I'm wearing: is itchy.
  • I'm tired: and cranky.
  • Who even says cranky?
  • Your mom.
  • My mom.
  • Your mom's mom.
Okay, clearly, I'm losing my touch. I'm gonna hit the hay before I write something that will make my want to bury my head like an ostrich the next time I read this. Because ostriches are scary. Like, I'm terrified of chickens (any other foul, too, really, though I've never found ducks to be quite so intimidating), and ostriches are essentially... not chicken-like. But that's not the point. They're huge, and they could probably peck you to death, plus any animal that regularly charges people is scary. And their eggs are big. Who even thought of having giant flightless birds? Like, did someone on the Animal Inventing Committee just go, "Okay, we've got these little birds that can fly, and we've got some little birds that don't fly, so what the hell? Let's have some really big birds that run around laying eggs and charging stuff. Actually, while we're at it, let's give them a really dumb name, like 'ostrich' or 'emu.' Ooh, I like both of those... let's have one kind of bird and call half of them emus and half of them ostriches and pretend there's a difference just so non-zoologists who don't know the secret feel really dumb. All in favor, say 'aye!'"?

I'm losing my train of thought. Signing out.

♥ the best is yet to be.
10/11/2005

♥ yours truly. ;

    "And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep." --Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

♥ linkity-link

♥ Thank you

♥ Past