My room smells like bananas.

Short Takes

* Monday morning, when steam was billowing out of the sewer, I was totally waiting for Tommy Lee Jones to pop out and confirm that we were shooting Volcano 2: Midwest is Toast, Too

* Examples of Times I Just Think Bookworm is Playing with Me: jiao, geru, asci, qua, Ben

* It really shouldn't bug me as much as it does that whoever's in charge of the mini golf in the lounge misspelled "Berenstein" (as "Bearenstein") on all the posters.

* Someday I'll start wearing headphones (no CD player attached) while walking to class, just so I can randomly rock out around strangers.

* The crawl-way under the stage is really dusty and I think I have paint in my hair (I know it's on my jeans): I love stagecraft more all the time.

Your friend and mine:

The Weekend in Bullets Returns!

* Michael makes some dang fine brownies, even if he doesn't use extra ingredients like the time before.

* My show choir shoes returned to dancing glory for use in my acting scene.

* Addicting Games + an afternoon when I should have been studying spanish = a sudden addiction to Bookworm

* I ordered my first [and second and third] books on Mobius ever...and have no idea how I'll know to pick them up.

* Peeps are more fun to microwave if you named them first ("Here, have a bit of Stanley." "Cindy wants to microwaved, too.")

* the Ever After "and they lived happily ever after" just as things suck must joke works just as well as a college sophomore as it did as a high school freshman

* I enjoy blow-drying my hair way more than I should

* The universe must have a sense of humor. Why else would my card-a-day calendar provide a "get well soon" card after I got sick in the middle of the night?

* My CD player still hates me, but I've stopped taking it personally.

* Puddles, puddles, puddles!!!

Epiphany, Number...well, anyway...

As much as I cling to my college personality and all the freedom and responsibility it entails, I am still very much the same person I was in high school.

Well, if everyone ELSE gets to obsessively post quizzes...

What would your Anime life be like? by hearthlight
Name:
Gender:
Your looks:	Brooding eyes and a trenchcoat
Your best friend:	A sarcastic demon.
Your powers:	Everything.
Your beloved:	You can't pick just one!
Your occupation:	Villain.
Your ending:	Exactly as you'd want it.
Created with quill18's MemeGen 3.0!

This is awesome because no one lets me play the villian parts (except in acting class once in awhile) and I know I'd probably be too good at them, what with my normally cheery and sunshiney personality.

My inner child is six years old!

Look what I can do! I can walk, I can run, I can
read! I like to do stuff, and there's a whole
big world out there to do it in. Just so long
as I can take my blankie and my Mommy and my
three best friends with me, of course.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

Does it matter to anyone that I actually worked it out that my inner child is nine...mostly so I could turn "ten" instead of twenty here in a month?


You are CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL. She is a rad
chick with absolutely no fashion sense.

Which old school Nickelodeon show are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I took this quiz a week ago and didn't recognize the show I "was" at all, so at least I know this one. (Does this mean, when I grow up, I'll get a talking cat a la "Sabrina the Teenage Witch?")


You are Schroeder!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

"Frequent bouts of neurosis" really sums it up, doesn't it?


You are the grammar Fuhrer. All bow to your
authority. You will crush all the inferior
people under the soles of your jackboots, and
any who question your motives will be
eliminated. Your punishment is being the bane
of every other person's existence, because
you're constantly contradicting stupidity.
Everyone will be gunning for you. Your dreams
of a master race of spellers and grammarians
frighten the masses. You must always watch your
back. If only your power could be used for good
instead of evil.


What is your grammar aptitude?
brought to you by Quizilla

I imagine that somewhere, somehow, Fye suddenly felt a burst of pride for me.


Sneakers- funny, laid-back, and goofy, you love to
make people laugh and have a good time. You
enjoy comfort and don't care to much about what
people think of you. You like to hang out with
your buddies and just have a good time.


What Kind of Shoe Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ironically one of the pairs of shoes I find most obnoxious...if only they didn't smell if you skipped the socks....

Movies I Want to See that Aren't Out Yet, or I Don't Have Money For (Yet)

* Mean Girls

* Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

* 13 Going on 30

* Jersey Girl

* Van Helsing

* The Incredibles

* Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

* The Villiage

My new favorite junk food is Combos with Easy Cheese

In other news, Amanda, the girl we leadership people were coaching for district contest, received second place at districts and gets to go to state. Naturally, this is some fab-friggin-tastic news....and well celebrated with cake in class. Favorite quote from the high school? "It's like a feeding troth at Auschwitz."

Number of popsicles eaten [by me] in first evening after purchasing them at Wal-Mart (along with Combos and Easy Cheese): three. Number of popsicles fully frozen when eaten: zero.

I just volunteered to also work publicity for the musical, which means I'm adding more to my schedule. The rate I'm going, I'll get my name in the program four times, but only if Megan can work me in under "collating" like she's trying. (Who put all those scripts in order? Yeah, that would be me, thanks.)

Caleb, I got your postcard from the 21st today. I enjoyed all the "really"s. Really.

The newest Harry Potter trailer (full trailer, not teaser) went online today or last night or something, but I can't get it to play on Merv. The sound works, but the picture does that flashy, holding too long so it jumps around thing and that's not at all how I should watch that trailer.

stupid friggin fire alarm....why ringing now? Oof....sleep again.

Basically, I Love You All

* I love my Dad for emailing me back so promptly as I muddle my way through my gypsy moth trapper application.

* I love Meredith for randomly do-si-do-ing with me in front of Dobson while walking to class.

* I love Becky Becker for not despising my acting scene and everything about it, like last time.

* I love my brother for making me laugh.

* I love the conservation department people for telling me that, for the two trapper positions available, there's one for me and one for the other six applicants to fight over.

* I love John for also loving Moxy Fruvous.

* I love Michael for not shooting me with his dart gun when I finally gave it back after stealing it.

* I love Melissa for not laughing at me half as much as she has the opportunity to do.

* I love my creative writing class for all their feedback about my Lady Macbeth poem.

* I love Tony, my one-act director, for all the art projects he's planning as bonding for the show.

Finally is right

Monkey Ninjas 5! Monkey Ninjas 5!

Things I Found Written in the Margins of My Old Spanish Workbook

* an obvious disregard for the actual questions:

1. Por que' no pudo salir Susana con Pedro? he's a great big jerk
2. Co'mo se puso ella cuando Pedro llamo'? hung up on him (girl power!)

* social commentary

It's hard being Canadian in MO.

The thing about being short is everyone always thinks you're younger than you actually are. You're always cute and precious, and no one for one second believes you are threat to anyone

* general ranting

My headphones are massively possessed right now. Every two seconds, the click. Click click click. And then they go all static-y like I'm about to be filmed for Signs 2: We Brought Our Wet Suits, Suckers. Or Something. What number am I on again?

this is the stupidest section EVER! I will not degrade myself to listen further, yet will not lose time by fastforwarding

* comments to the writers of the workbook

you tricky fools!

what kind of funky accentuation patter is this guy following?

Not even gonna happen, babycakes.

* the occassional song

I really want to leave, yeah! Really want to leave. Oh, I so want to go right now-ow!

almost there! almost done! hate to leave when we're having fun! but we've both got better things to do than hang around at the petting zoo.

*2% Zinc! ... I love cheddar, too!*

So, it wasn't until just now, minutes after Melissa and I completed our back-and-forth joint song about the contents of Munchies Kid Mix and a bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream Chips that I realized half of what I was singing had the same melody as "Poor Judd is Daid" from Oklahoma.

Oh, and I'm assistant stage managing my friend, Tony's, show which I already count as fabulous (it's all about art).


[It pays to read everything I write, doesn't it? You never know when I'll stick in actual real information like that, huh?]

Pondering

Do you suppose my Dad does the same things about job interviews that I do with auditions: act like it's no big deal what happens, yet secretly desperately wanting a specific thing and then having to deal when it doesn't happen?

In other theatre news, the acting lab flooded last night.

Is it a bad sign that I woke up thinking about one-act cast list postings, and immediately my head started playing "Til We Meet That Day" from Ragtime, the song about justice being denied and death and stuff?

We'll Always Have the Sunken Garden

Not only do I love how much time I can spend talking about basically nothing with my group of friends, but also just how far one little inside joke can spread before I'm suddenly mock-hysteric relationship fighting on the path back to Ryle with someone who I'm not dating. Bless you, John.

Bad Hannah! Bad!

I know I always promise never to do so again, but I once more fell for a part (though it was the one I didn't figure I'd fall for. I just came back from my callback for two of the shows, and I'm really digging [from two pages of dialogue] "I Bring You Flowers" by William Lang, about a husband and wife who's child died....but the wife doesn't remember.

Sounds fun, right? Well, those first two pages of dialogue were about flowers and how they grow and I got to say "You're kidding!" over-exagerratingly three times and it was great.

Of course, then I went are read for another show, and I still have to read for a third, but there you have it. I've already picked what I want to do. Dang awful habit.

You like me! You really like me!

Callbacks are up and I have three: two for shows I was least repelled by (there's lots of dismal stuff this year) and one directed by the guy who gives me semi-creeps (no good reason) every time I see him. I guess I'll be busy this afternoon.

And my feet are KILLING me

...which means I had a fabulous time at the All Hall Ball, dancing the night away in Pershing. There was much 80s music (courtesy of Krista and Annie, who probably requested half the music over-all), fake swing dancing (which must always occur at dances), and I was swung around a la "Dirty Dancing" or some ballet by John (under Krista's careful direction: "Now, lift her up and spin!"). I didn't wear shoes the entire night, demonstrated my twisting skills ("Twist and Shout" = Best Beatles Song Ever), and stole a set of the helium balloon table decorations. They're quickly deflating and attacking Merv, but I don't think he minds.

I love dances. I miss high school.

More than a little giddy

I love that feeling I get after an audition that went well, when I'm all happy and confident and feeling like I could TAKE ON ANYTHING, or ANYBODY, and that loserfreak wouldn't stand a chance after my fabulous, total flahoolickness. I want to run singing down the hallway, which actually wouldn't come across all that weird to my neighbors, so instead I'm going to dinner and chill.

(Why, yes, I did find something for one-acts. Why, yes, it did go quite well. How did you know?)

I need a hero! [or a monologue]

Why do I always end up searching for something at the last minute for the one-acts? I know it doesn't "matter" as much what you do as it does for mainstages, classes, etc, but it still makes a difference. So why do I put off finding the perfect piece until the last minute? How does that even remotely make sense?

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

Anyway. Time to continue searching.

And I have a few hours left

My linguistics prof ranted about the disasterous affect Schoolhouse Rock has had on the grammar of America's children (yes, really: "They included an adverb as a preposition!"), I spent nearly all of acting class singing "Marry the Man Today" in various parts of OP, I broke out the flip-flops and have my first feet rub lines of the season, Melissa and I blew bubbles on the quad while avoiding any and all frisbee playing, I gave a spontaneous geography lesson regarding Okoboji, tried to fall asleep to Hugh Jackman and just couldn't pull it off (do you blame me?), and introduced John (the third one in the song) to the joys of pour-over butter popcorn.

I'd say it's been a successful day.

The Hair Up There

(corny title, I know, but it's still early)

My still-newly-short hair keeps doing this fun flip-out-on-its-own thing where I don't have to mess with curling irons (big plus), except that some days--like yesterday and today--it's majorly out of control and I spend all day trying to ignore the war my hair wages on my ears.

Shout-Out Disguised as Confession

Amanda, you have no idea how tempting it is to walk past the cardboard box of soda can tabs and not stash them all (handful by handful) into my backpack to help you out for your service project.

Maybe if I go in the evening and avoid the janitors.....

(Oh, the things I think up while not paying attention in class)

We (or, at least, people who have been with me for awhile) all know that I have connections with too many people claiming the same name, especially Johns. To help clear up the who's who among Hannah's Johns, I offer all y'all this, to the tune of The Kids in the Hall's "Daves I Know":

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know.
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns I know.

John Dieter, he once played my dad.
Those were the best one-act times that I've ever had.

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know.
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns I know.

John Griesdeck was in my acting class.
He works at the Muny, a theatre surrounded by grass.

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know.
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns I know.

Some of them are freshmen, but most are in my grade.
They all have their own hands, but they come from different moms.

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know.
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns I know.

John Richardson, he lives just down the hall.
He taped me for a ling project, and has some quotes on the wall.

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know.
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns I know.

John Weeks, I hardly see him.

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know.
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns I know.

These are the Johns I know, I know
These are the Johns I know, I know.
These are the Johns!

Home Sweet Home

There's totally a thread on DailyJolt currently going about Becky, from Becky's Carpet and Tile (the tiara lady on the flying carpet) and other St. Louis commercial personalities (Fred from Dirt Cheap, anyone?) that makes me miss my local broadcast stations.

Even you, Fred.

Melissa is an absolute *genius*

Merv came back this afternoon/evening-ish, I discovered I still couldn't get on the internet, took it up with the ITS folks again, found out they'd checked for the wrong thing and I had to come back again tomorrow, and settled in for another night without email, Addiction Solitaire, and other internet in my room.

So, why am I currently posting from my room?

Melissa, the genius of the title, made the comment that it wouldn't be fair if ITS turned off both internet ports in the room ("what if there were two computers in here, and one of them wasn't infected?"), and I changed from Port 1 to Port 2. For once, the ITS people actually worked to my advantage (as much as they've tried to screw me over for the past few weeks, that's a grand triumph).

I'm going to do all those little internet things I've missed out on for the last little bit. Toothpaste for Dinner, McSweeney's, IMDB - here I come!

Sure, it's convenient, but still....

Why is my knee throbbing? My only guess (so far) is that I've developed creaky joints a la grumpy old people in comic strips that ache with weather changes (hello, snow!) from all those years of sitting on my knees in order to be taller. If it's any consolation to my left knee, I'm sorry for all the trouble I gave you back in seventh grade, if I could take it back I would, and I would really appreciate it if you'd stop aching no matter what position you're in and let me sleep easy tonight. I really don't care to feel changes in the weather enough to not be able to walk up and down the hall without hurting myself.

Take good care of my baby

Lab again. Merv's officially in the (hopefully) good hands of the ITS guys, though, when I was there, they were all talking about the new screensavers for their computers. I'm trying not to dwell. Whoever I talked to on the phone said it'll take up to two days to fix whatever's wrong with Merv, so I guess now is a fab time to practice not playing Addiction Solitaire and Freecell and Tripeaks five million hours of the day....and wait for the time when I can do so again.

*gag* fumes

I'm in the downstairs lab because Merv still doesn't like me (he's going to ITS this afternoon, weather permitting), where the walls are receiving a fresh coat of paint. Of course, the doors are also closed, and there's a 100% chance of snow, like, any minute, so there's lots of laughter going on from the workers. And I can't spell anymore, which is actually quite normal, but I'd like to blame it on outside sources for at least one day.

I don't see any chance of that guaranteed snow as of yet (except that the temperature's kinda nippy out), but I suppose it is Kirksville, where in snows in April (at least that once).

Maybe not quite.

OOH! Sister Sledge on PBS! Must stay up five more minutes!

(I was unaware that "We Are Family" had violin accompaniment. Or that I could actually spell "accompaniment.")

I have to pack now. Yes, now.

Maybe it's just the silly laptop (is it "laptop" or "labtop" - I never remember, but I'm leaning toward the first) doing it's crazy "let's mess with Hannah late at night when she should be packing all her earrings and papers and shoes and things" thing again. I always feel safer when I have technology to blame because then I'm not 100% certain whatever happened is my fault.

There's such tense trouble (good name for a rock band) in that last sentence, but I'm not going to Fye it out tonight. And, suddenly, I have my last word for my linguistics "invent four words using principles talked about on last day when half the class wasn't there" project. And, I'm typing without clearing anything with my brain first, so it's like I'm talking in internet form. Whatever that means.

I'm packing my laundry now.

now things are posting once, appearing when I check, and disappearing again later...but will they reappear after posting again???

Why does everything keep trying to double post or not post at all?

Lesson of the Break

I’ve always felt weird and kinda inconvenienced when I come home on breaks because suddenly I have to deal with my parents hanging around (instead of friends my age) and messing with my pre-set schedule of sleeping in, staying up late, and general lounging. It wasn’t until this week that I realized they must feel the same way about me when I show up: happy to have me around, yet at a loss for what to do with me and how to fit me into their schedule.

Book me a trip to Rome!

I want to go to a foreign county and meet a cute stranger because, once we spend all day together, we’ll fall madly in love. Of course, there’s half a chance he’ll just be using me to take revenge on someone, but then I’ll just fall into the arms of my best guy friend (who’s conveniently on the same trip). Either way, I can’t lose.


[Maybe I’ve seen “Roman Holiday” and “The Lizzie Maguire Movie” too many times.]

Spoiler Alert!

Dudes, I’m serious—I’m just gonna spout all over the place about “Secret Window,” newest movie from Johnny Depp, fantastic hot actor guy. This used to be part of an earlier post about my entire afternoon-evening-early early morning, but Blogger ate it twice, so I’m just giving up on all but my mini-rant. So, once more, SPOILER ALERT.

Ta da.

As a movie theater employee, Sam brought Hope and me to the free movie preview of “Secret Window” on Thursday night after all the publically scheduled movies had finished. I bought a package of Twizzlers from Wal-Mart earlier in the evening and snuck them in by way of my apparently-twizzler-sized purse (one of my favorite movie memories is of passing a twizzler to Sam during “The Others” and having her totally jump at a non-scary part).

Anyway.

Everyone mocked the previews, but we settled in once the actual movie started. The movie had a genuinely creepy vibe going (mysterious visitors, the dog gets death by screwdriver, the shovel scene seen partially in the tv previews), though the plot was becoming more and more unlikely.

And then came the squirrel.

Around Truman’s campus, everyone *knows* the squirrels are insane. It’s just something you pick up during freshman week, I guess. The squirrels around campus are insane, probably want us all dead, and will attack us for no reason (seen it happen). Rather than being terrified of the squirrels, they are instead a point of personal pride. Where else can you find psychotic squirrels? Frankly, they amuse me. This is why the shot of the squirrel going berserk mid-movie caused me (and Hope) to burst out in loud laughter.

Apparently this was the breaking point for everyone else in the theater, as everyone around us (all ten people) proceeded to mock the rest of the movie. And, trust me, there’s lots there. I’d found the boyfriend guy annoying throughout the entire film and was happy to see Johnny Depp take him out with the shovel (though I didn’t need to watch him stabbed to death with said shovel). And the “shooter” – “shoot her” I will admit was a nice touch.

But, couldn’t we come up with something better than a split personality psychotic Johnny Depp? Especially once we made it fit so perfect to be a set up from the boyfriend; that conversation at the gas station (where the boyfriend takes credit for what’s going on) fits more for the Mississippi stranger than for him taking responsibility for the divorce situation. I guess that’s why he did that weird mouth stretching thing throughout the movie, also. I’d like to ask one question of the general population (as I did of Sam during the film and Hope after): does it make me a bad person that I thought Johnny Depp was even hotter once he picked up the southern accent himself and was wearing the ominous black hat all jaunty-like? I mean, he wasn’t hot because he was killing people off, but, oh, he could talk to me in southern all the time.

And what was with the corn?!? I guess it’s understandable that the garden wouldn’t stick around after he dug everything up to bury the bodies, but does corn have a special quality where it covers all evidence of decaying, shovel-killed bodies? And how hard would it be to find the car (with his watch, screwdriver, and all sorts of evidence) that close to the edge of the lake? Surely the car left some track marks leading right off the cliff that the police picked up on.

I won’t even go into all of them, but I hate that the thriller/mystery/etc genre generally relies on all the main characters making really stupid mistakes or just doing idiotic things people in real life wouldn’t do (such as staying in a solitary house in the middle of nowhere after receiving numerous death threats). I know that if they did everything I’d do in the situation, the movie would end in approximately fifteen minutes (including exposition), but surely some fabulous writer out there can come up with a better method. Though, in this movie specifically, all the stupid mistakes were justified in a “logical” (I use that word lightly) manner, they still bugged me until (and some after) I discovered the explanation.

Still, I enjoyed Johnny Depp (even when he wasn’t a psychotic Mississippi southern-spewing murderer) in the role, as kinda out there as it was. I got my money’s worth for the show, and I have bragging rights of seeing it before the movie was open for the general public. I’ll eat an ear of corn to that.

Home is where the laundry goes

Distinct Signs I Am Once More in Sullivan:

* laundry is free; I don't have to hunt up enough small change to clean both my jeans and shirts

* I'm in charge of most of my meals

* I've misplaced my purse because there's more than two places where it could be

* there's more than two places where I could be

* all the soda is caffeine free, sugar free, diet, or a combination thereof

* I don't climb up a ladder to reach my bed

* no cable (not that I watch it, anyway)

* I actually watch tv

* I'm finally making progress on my scrapbook again

* everyone else is asleep (or at least in bed) by ten thirty

* everyone else is awake before seven

* I actually worked out on the treadmill

* I went to Wal-Mart without stopping by the electronics or toy departments

* the internet is all screwy (wait, that's also true of Truman...)

Hannah, gaze at your future

My mother actually has it marked on her calendar (for 2004!) the date in March (the second) and year (1992) when I first began taking piano lessons.

Only two shopping months remaining!

Today, March 8th, marks the final two months before I depart from my free-spirited teen years (which, if we're being honest, could only be classified as such upon reaching college, as I was kinda uptight before that) and enter my faux-mature twenties.

Frightening, I know.

However, as those last two months will sweep away quickly (much like the dust under my bed), I am here to provide a handy birthday shopping list for all you, like my mother, who have "well, nothing."

I would in no manner despise receiving any of the following, in no particular order:

* a vespa

* gift certificates to the scrapbook store

* "Gilmore Girls" on DVD

* decent walkie-talkies (none of that "unobstructed 200 yards" crap)

* anything Liv Tyler wore in "That Thing You Do!"

* a karaoke machine (to spice up life in 315)

* a trip to New York

* money for my trip to London (only one year away!)

* the sudden ability to dance REAL swing dance (not just that fake show choir type)

* more giant hoop earrings (they look extra nice with the short hair)

* a publishing contract

* a gig stage managing a broadway musical

* bubbles

* a pony

"I liked my life before it became so confusing, really I did."

There's nothing quite like ready old journal entries from middle school-early high school about boys to remind someone just how unconfusing and normal life really was back then as compared to now. Perspective is always nice, especially late at night.

That, and they're hilarious.

24 Hours: that's 1440 minutes...86400 seconds...

(...and one reference to "The Adding Machine" that no one will understand)

In the first 24 hours (or so) spent back in Sullivan, I...

* fell asleep on the couch (like normal on the first night back)

* went to Wal-Mart

* did laundry

* listened to St. Louis radio six times

* found out another set of friends became engaged while I was gone

* read an entire book (granted, children's lit)

* thought about working on schoolwork apx. elevent times

* was asked out (by yet another Wal-Mart employee - why do I attrach them so?)

* watched more television than I had for most of the semester

When I finally finish that time machine...

"So, Hannah, what's been up? I mean, you used to post all the time, but, this past week, you posted basically nothing. What's up with you?"

Well, noble readers--I've had a virus. Or, more accurately, Merv had a virus. The tech people pulled Merv off the network (thus disconnecting the room's internet), didn't tell me for an entire day, we used about a zillion different programs to scan Merv personally, apparently got back on the network (because it was telling us the network was unplugged when the internet crashed for everyone else), and then left for break.

Anyway.

Basically, I haven't posted anything for most of the week. As I mentioned in a post earlier, I had things I wanted to post. Unfortunately, I left...lemme check...yeah, all of them back in Kirksville in my "toast" file. What were they? Well......


MONDAY
My scene was fabulous! I haven't watched the tape yet (and I don't plan to until I have to to put it onto my tape), but [as I actually experienced the entire thing], I sense it was totally on. Plus, I received great feedback (and some all around fab comments about myself) and got to prance around in go-go boots.

And, then there was Easy Mac and dance party-ness and all manner of jokes about the Sunken Garden. I love late Monday nights in John and Michael's room.


TUESDAY
I know nothing about Spanish and Spanish will have nothing to do with me and I don't think that's gonna change before the test tomorrow. Dios mio!


THURSDAY
I swear, you don't MESS WITH ME when I'm sleeping. You don't mess with me when I'm sleeping and you don't mess with my friends who are sleeping and you especially [Michael] don't wake me up to ask me to mess with one of my friends who are sleeping.

Y'all can thank me for the fact that Michael no longer has any of his toy foam dart guns, as he was shooting them at Tiffani's door to wake her up from her nap. Yes, that was me yelling all the way down the hall.

You don't mess with me and sleep.


FRIDAY
My Spanish prof is apparently in love with Costa Rica, but that still doesn't make me wish I decided against skipping to watch him spew adoration over the CR while watching one of his old trip videos.

Don't know much about....

I don't know why Merv has suddenly decided he doesn't like the Internet, the Internet is evil, I must protect Hannah and Melissa from the devil that is Addiction Solitiare, but he has and so I've been Internet-free in 315 for about two-ish days now.

No, I'm not taking it well.

Anyway, as soon as Merv starts cooperating again (or I just give up and save them all on disk, the pile of posts I had for this week will languish away on my desktop, praying for a miracle to occur before I leave tomorrow afternoon. Frankly, I don't have my fingers crossed, but Merv's surprised me in the past.

Unfair! Unfair! Unfair!

There's a new Harry Potter trailer up and I can't get it to download!!! Why do you hate me, Merv?!?

This is what my life has become.

Yup, another list. I'd love to do something more, but frankly I don't have time this side of my Spanish test and want to throw info out there sooner than Wednesday evening.

So.

Other stuff in my life:

* As my parents know, I can tell the rest of the world: Michelle AuBuchon was so friggin' right. Explaination: it was Locks for Love in Ryle this weekend, and I ended up getting my hair cut...as in, donation-worthy cut. I now have hair about an inch above my shoulders; if you've watched "Gilmore Girls" this season, it looks like Rory's hair.

* Melissa's parents popped-up on our doorstep Sunday morning (as Amanda, Melissa's sister was visiting as well) and we enjoyed a picnic lunch of fried chicken (!) out at the lake where there were also swings and slides for our own enjoyment.

* My acting scene went fantabulously on Monday morning and, adding to my previous acting scene compliments regarding my feet and my height, the first four or so comments were (seriously) about my hot-ness. Yay boosting self-esteem!

* Dressing up for dinner had the extra advantage of occurring at the same time as a large group of theatre people also ate in the dining hall, thus causing a trading of quips.

* New Teen Girl Squad! New Teen Girl Squad!

* Searching for a song for the next acting class segment--musical theatre--at the library and discovering our library has a big load of nothing.

* Four trips to Wal-Mart in three days.

(Is that a lightning cloud?)

Today in acting class a group of us actually spent most of the warm-up time comparing our "stigmata," starting with the girl who had marks on her feet due to her flip-flops rubbing the wrong way. Then, we moved on to me and my matching hand wounds (the left from being stabbed with a key, the right from falling on the shark jaw) and finally moved into "proper" stigmata placement and the old wrist vs. hand argument.

I love theatre people.