Julieta I want your babeis

SO FUCKING GOOD

This thing would bring me to tears if I had tear ducts

I've often caught myself saying, "I want to go home" even when I AM at home. It's one of the scariest things I've experienced, and I hope I'm not saying it all my life.

It's March and so far...

So I seriously haven't written in this thing in forever. And I do mean WRITE. Like... type shiz, ya know? It's all been cutesy little videos that I enjoy quite a lot but are ultimately there just so I don't forget them later because my brain can't handle too much memorization (I have the entire history of America to memorize; for such a young country, it has a ridiculously involved history).

Speaking of America, I bought America: A Visual History From Then to Now. It has the most lovely photos in it - and the best part is that I know what each and every one of them is referring to without having read the description first. I am getting so good.

Right now, my room is bathed in this ghostly blue light. It reminds me of this story I used to love when I was little. It was called The Spirit of the Blue Light and it was about this spirit... of a blue light. I remember I never did understand it - it was about as abstract to my little kid brain as this blue light is to me now.





I hope it doesn't ruin my eyesight too bad. I'm quite fond of my 20/20.

I guess I've chosen tonight to be introspective. I have those introspective moments quite often. Last year was one giant introspective moment and this year I've had one every few months, it seems. They just come and then they leave because being a maudlin teen is one of my non-goals list.

I guess it started with that colorgenics test thing. No matter how many times I took it, no matter how many different color combinations I chose, it kept saying that I was in a state of anxious tension mixed with hearty dollops of stress, and I was like, "Sheeeeit no." But if it kept saying it, there must be something to it. It also told me I was unhappy with the place I am and seeking an escape and I was like, "Hmm... sort of."

POINT IS - it was rather spot-on. I must not be doing something right. It might be the lack of sleep these last few weeks (which tonight is clearly not helping hurhurhur)or the fact that Italy's happening so fast. I'm not sure.

Speaking of which, I FINALLY got started on my passport. Got some passport photos taken in which I look DASHING (hah no) and am ready to get it done MONDAY. After my passport's in the works and I get the second installment of my ticket paid, I WILL FEEL SO MUCH BETTER. In the Italy department, anyway.

Which is how I bought my America book. And sour brite gummi octopi. And got a haircut. And met YET ANOTHER member of my extended family. She cut my hair, such a sweet relative.

TONIGHT'S PLAN IS:

1. Clean room and closet. That task alone could take me HOURS.
2. Organize my bathroom area. It's like a hurricane hit it. HURRICANE NATALIA.
3. Do some work. Like, get that shiz done. I should be doing some now. LEMME BEGIN THAT.
4. Umm. Not sleep I guess. Yeah.

I'm ready for crazy brilliance. And a change.

The Fucking French

Carla Bruni, wanna stop being Sarkozy's wife and come be my personal minstrel? There's no way in hell being the First Lady of France can be more fun this playing this FOREVERMORE.



You too, Piaf. GET IN MAH BEDROOM.

Peach, Plum, Pear

I steal from the sites I stalk :D

Joanna Newsom "Peach Plum Pear" from Echo Panda on Vimeo.

do liiiiike

Don't know what it is. Can't explain it. Love it. Makes me happy. :D

This is why Hombres G never should have grown up. Or married me. Either one.

GOD YES.

Sono il capone della mafia! Sono il figlio della mia mamma! Sono uno stronzo di merda! Un figlio di troia (?) in Veneziaaaa! Veneziaaa!

Lo tengo preparado, tengo las maletas, vamos juntos hasta Italia...

3-1

3 wins, 1 loss. A good day overall.

And, I had chinese food! Yay!

Be It Resolved

I, like most people in this world, am a big fan of resolutions. I like self-improvement, and reflection, and the word "resolution" because it sorta sounds fancy, just a little. So, like most everyone in this world, the following are my resolutions. Incidentally, I never forget my resolutions, not if they're important, because they're usually just resolutions I've made before.

Except tweaked. Maybe.

1. Time Management
2. Work harder
3. Work always
4. Get off your ass
5. Run around
6. Clean that shiz
7. Live that shiz
8. Ok, I think we're done now.

I'm so good at this, it's ridiculous.

I nearly cried

Yes. I really nearly did as I watched this. Most people would take this to mean they need to find a new obsession.

BUT NOT ME.



LET'S DO IT AGAIN, LET'S DO IT AGAIN!



This is how the world needs to be. All. The. TIME. Small, and it must include flying ships. And I must be the captain of one of these vessels. And pillage the harbors. But mostly pillage DREAMS.

I have a lust for life

I like this. :3

MMMM GIRL, IS GONNA BE GOOOOD

Looks to me like Sherlock Holmes just got bumped up the internal book list I carry.

WE'VE GOT TILL CHRISTMAS, PEOPLE.

Look who failed at reading the actual books. *facepalm*

Regardless, this STILL needs to happen. JUST LOOK AT ITS EPICNESS.



Oh god. It gave me shpulkas in my gonnectagazoids.

Yesterday, on Christmas Day, I went with my cousins to the theatre to see a movie. My cousin Diego and I wanted to see Sherlock Holmes, but the other two cousins in the group were really leaning towards Precious. Meh, what the heck, I wanted to see Precious earlier anyway. Just... I wanted to see Sherlock Holmes slightly more.

Whatever. We saw Precious instead. (SAD MOVIE. OH GOD SO SAD. Comic relief was created when a few ladies in the back started giving commentary to the movie. Soooo great.) Truly, I'd rather see a giant HOLLYWOOD PRODUCTION like Holmes on Christmas Day, but whatever.

BUT THIS ISN'T WHAT'S IMPORTANT. THIS. LOOK AT THIS.


AND THIS


Always nice to see you, Watson.

GOD IT MADE ME SO HAPPY. I must have looked like a total spaaaz, asking to take a picture with cardboard people. I really don't care. SO WORTH IT.

IN CHRISTMAS-RELATED NEWS:

I spent the PAGAN HOLIDAY (lulz)in the company of my family, eating everyone's food, playing Beatles Rock Band, unwrapping ONE present, and generally being merry. That was the Eve.

The Daaaay was spent in the company of aforementioned family at my own home where we grilled meat and lazied about and discussed how teachers are drunk (according to my uncle, anyway)and how one of my cousins was at DISNEYLAND. YAY!

Then we went to see Precious, where I cried a little over the sadness of her life and felt sad that I hadn't seen a happier, more actiony movie instead, then returned home to watch a show about aliens and ancients or some shiz like that. Meanwhile, I started to feel a little stress about all the unfinished work I've yet to do: due dates look closer this side of Christmas...

This is about Disneyland, which means you shouldn't be surprised.

I apparently fail at owning a blog. I didn't realize it required so much feeding, and water, and a regular litter box change. It's so effing NEEDY.

Nevertheless, it's still here and we're working through our problems. Meh, not really. It's sorta degenerated into a "OMG I WENT TO DISNEYLAND GAIS" kinda thing. And I really have no problem with that.

In keeping with the I LOVE DISNEYLAND OH YES motif, I'll just tell you how I spent my last weekend. If you haven't guessed yet... I went to Disneyland. Stayed in a hotel and everythang. Woke up the next day and had breakfast... and tEa!



Oh, and it was such a lovely sight upon entering! Well, even before that, obviously. Because it's Disneyland. That's just how they DO. The castle was SNOWED ON. I was astounded, amazed, speechless, and just a tad itchy, maybe. That, clearly, had nothing to do with the "snowed on" castle, but it's just a fact I felt needed to be pointed out.



King Arthur's Carrousel has some creepy ass faces, man...



We went on Dumbo and laughed our asses off. My mother and I weren't sure what came over us. It was probably the Disney MAGIC. Fur sealz.

Friends, remember that tEa pot at the beginning of the post? Yeah, well, there musta been something in the tEa, because in time, I began to SEE thiiiiiiings... strange things. O_o



NO, NOT DANCING, TINY WOMEN! Waaaaaaaaaai, God, why?!

>

Holy Jesus Christ, the sky! Look at the SKY.



What's that you say? I'm not on shrooms, as a dear friend of mine once claimed? No? That's just a bunch of crappy pictures of it's a small world holiday? Oh. Ok then. That was a tad embarassing. MOVING ON.



Ho Ho Holidays INDEED.



Pfft. Don't hold your breath, Disney.



IN ADDITION, there was a parade! With Santa! And other stuff! I took pictures, but considering my limited stature, they were nothing marvelous. Besides, during the parade time, we managed to JOIN FORCES with a man with a broken leg from Mexicali, as well as his wife and his 4 year old son, Robert.

Can you say, FASTPASS? We can. We never had to. We had a HANDICAP. That's BETTER than a fastpass!

In time, we'd ridden four rides in the time it'd take us to do two. EPIC. FREAKING. WIN. While in handicap line for Pirates, I flitted off to explore New Orleans Square, because I'm a badass rebel like that, and also because when I was at Disneyland during the Fall, I'd come across a portrait maker in the middle of the Square, and kinda wanted a lovely portrait of myself, because I'm vain. As I was walking towards where I'd seen them, I glimpsed a little corner/nook with a large "Princess and the Frog" sign over the doorway. Upon closer inspection, I learned that Princess Tiana was taking pictures and signing autographs... and the line was only 20 minutes! Before you scoff, you must know that the line for Princess Fantasy Faire in Fantasyland was a freaking HOUR AND A HALF long. I know this because early in our journey through magicalness, we decided to hunt down a princess for my little sister, a project which failed epically.

Now, however, here was a chance to take a picture with a Disney princess - and a REALLY recent one too! The recentist! That's not a word! I don't care! It was so, so lucky, but the entire clan was back in line for Pirates and I knew nobody would approve of my AWESOME idea except for my sister and me. Thus, I sighed and proceeded around the corner of the street, pausing only in the teeny tiny, itsy bitsy Princess and the Frog shop, where I caught a glimpse of the newest princess through the window.

She was so cute :3 I wish I had taken a picture with her. ME. And then I'd tell her what I'd like for Christmas. And she'd be gracious and laugh but internally think, "Oh god, do I LOOK like Santa? Am I fat and WHITE? I DON'T THINK SO. Maaaaan!"

I managed to find the portrait artist right around that little bend and, lo and behold, the prices were nothing to giggle over, but I expected as much. The time was the issue here. You can't expect a full picture of your FACE to be a quick thing, and I knew nobody would approve of this awesome idea either.

LE SIGH. I never get to chill in New Orleans. :(



I get over things. I get over things quick. Especially when we got to go on Pirates and then Indiana Jones in the FREAKING QUICKEST LINES EVAR. In the history of TIME. In the history of LIFE. In the history of ME.

We parted ways after Indiana Jones, as our park hoppers were calling upon us to hop the fence on over to California Adventures. Running through the Hollywood Backlot reminded me very much of last trip. Hmm...

And thus, I got my family to appreciate THEATRE in the form of Aladdin's Musical Spectacular. So. MUCH. FFFUUUUNNN. Goooooooood, I love that show.

Then we soared over California, something especially fun for the fam because they'd never gone on the ride before and because my dad could go, "HEY I'VE BEEN IN THERE!" when we flew over the golf course, and because everyone got to fly. I thought my sister would start crying, but she was yelping with joy.

After eating some burgers and sandwiches at the nearby Taste Pilots' Grill (nomnomnom chicken sammiches, nomnomnom onion rings, nomnomnom vanilla shaaaakes)we went back to Disneyland for the fireworks spectacular! But not before purchasing an over-priced balloon that lit up for my little sister. It later deflated when we had to hand it over to the Haunted Mansion people and then MISTREATED it. Lear's balls.



We rushed past the now lit up Christmas tree, all trippied out by my expert camera handling...



Down Main Street... OMG I CAN'T IGNORE THIS!



I wanted to sit there and stare at that castle ALL NIGHT LONG, no joke.



OH HAI HAUNTED MANSION, HAI. I see Jack's had his way with you. Interesting, interesting.

Now, I personally consider the Haunted Mansion a staple in the Disneyland diet. It makes me sad if I don't go on it. My dad doesn't care for it much and so to appease him, we rushed on over to Splash Mountain after this. Line was like 5 minutes long because everyone's already rushed over to the Rivers of America or the Central Plaza to prepare for the night spectaculars. I chose to chill outside with my mom and browse the overpriced merchandise that I've become immune to through careful training. I'm like the Brahman of Disneyland, son.

So, we managed to watch the fireworks show. I NEARLY CRIED, I WAS SO HAPPY. Most beautiful thing EVAR. And then it "snowed." There were these lamp thing that showed globs of foam that looked like snow on certain sections of the Central Plaza. EPIC WIN, DISNEYLAND. You've contented me once again.

We left then, but not before I'd had my pick of souvenir. I knew to stay away from the hats, since I always forget about them, and instead wandered into a little visited art shop where they sell you overpriced posters and overpriced frames. I settled for an overpriced poster of the Mad tEa Party complete with Disney characters spinning in the tEacups - a nod to Mustafa and his tEa party.

That shiz is on my wall now, yo.

Next morning, I ate myself silly at El Torito's sunday buffet. That night, I killed myself over Bio and Math. Returning to my regularly scheduled programming was sadness :(

BUT GOD I LOVE DISNEYLAND :D :D :D :D :D

Mustafa's Tea

"Oh, dO pLeAsE sit down, Miss Rahlia! Would you quite like some tEa?"

I sat down in the large, winged armchair, stroking my mustache in a contemplative manner, wondering if I, indeed, would quite like some tEa.

"Why yes, Mister Mustafa, I would quite like some TeA."

Mister Mustafa frowned, his tiny silver teapot frozen in mid-air. "I said, 'Would you like some tEa, NOT 'Would you like some TeA?' Those are two entirely different beverages, you insolent American!" Reaching inside of his paisley coat, he removed a mutant, overly large sardine and smacked me in the face with it. I could taste its shiny, nasty, fishy silver fish scales all up in mah grill, and made a mental note never to mispronounce tEa ever again, or visit the Italian island of Sardegna, for that matter.

"Give me some goddamn tEa, ya old geezer," I said, rubbing the side of my face where the fish had slapped, wincing as I felt the rawness of it.

The old geezer smiled, his own magnificent mustache twitching. "That's more like it," he guffawed, and proceeded to pour the tEa right onto my elbow, where I proceeded to lap it up like some people lap up honey, and like others lap other runners as they run laps on a track.

After I'd finished lapping up my tEa, and after Mustafa was done lapping his up as well, I looked at the man right in the eye and said, "Why did you call me? Surely, it wasn't just to drink some tEa, though I'm certain that was your secondary motive."

Mustafa sighed, laying his elbow on a saucer and stirring it with a spoon. He looked so old all of a sudden, older than he had looked just a few seconds ago, but then I realized that his Malaysian servant, Musa, was swinging precariously from the large crystal chandelier directly over our intimate conversation and shooting his master with an aging gun that he had surely developed in the bowels of the palace, or some other such dodgy place. This explained the sudden oldness of Mustafa, and I nodded appreciatively at Musa. Those Malaysians, always so ingenious!

He, in turn, made an, "URGH," face and swung down to earth from his swinging chandelier, shouting something about bananas in the drying machine.

I paid him no mind, as my host had now returned to his regularly scheduled programming and was about to reveal to me the reason for his sudden summons.

"Well, Miss Rahlia, I am getting along in age now - "

I interrupted. "No you're not, that was just because Musa was testing his new aging gun on you, which is apparently not permanent, as all your deep wrinkles have returned to slightly less deep but still incredibly noticeable wrinkles."

Mustafa glared at me. "That's enough, stupid! Anyway, as I was saying," he said, his voice returning to the sad, wilting tone he'd started to use after his first sigh, "I'm getting old, and soon I'm going to die. Actually, not really, I'm only going to pretend to be dead so I can go on an extended vacation to the Bahamas without anyone asking any ridiculous questions. I was wondering..."

"Yes?" I was getting frustrated with him. He's annoying and semi-retarded. No, I'm not saying that just to be mean. He really is semi-retarded.

"I was wondering if..." He paused again, throwing his flaccid hand over his tiny eyes, his fez and monocle falling slightly out of place. "Oh, but I can't do it!" he cried, standing up and pushing me out of my seat and smacking me with his fish again. He then walked over to his desk, crowded with erotic items from his explorer days, and slid everything off the floor, breaking several glass unidentifiable erotic objects.

"Don't you see!" he cried, grabbing me by the lapels and shooting old man spit in my face. My face was frozen in an expression of, "OMGWHUT." I had a feeling the old man had gone insane, was having an episode, had lost his left foot, ruined the American economy, or stolen a beanie baby from Sears.

He threw me into the fireplace and fell to his knees, his noticeably wrinkly face in his hands. "I can't ask you to do anything for me because you're way too cool!" Mustafa bawled like a child.

I growled. I'd only travelled here all the way from New Brunswick, hoping I'd be a getting some sort of inheritance or maybe a daughter of Mustafa's to marry. Unfortunately, it was just another repeat episode of Mustafa being semi-retarded and probably bipolar and maybe even malignant. I grabbed his fish and slapped him across the face with it, and then I punched him in the gut, and then I made him dance a lively polka to a completely un-polka-ish song.

"Snap out of it, Mustafa! I didn't travel here all the way from New Brunswick, hoping to I'd get some sort of inheritance or maybe a daughter of yours to marry, just to witness a repeat episode of you being semi-retarded and probably bipolar and maybe even malignant. This is why I've grabbed your fish and slapped you across the face with it, and then punched you in the gut, and then made you dance a lively polka to a completely un-polka-ish song. So, either I force you to write me into your will, you write me into your will willingly, or you cough up some daughter for me to marry, or I promise you, there shall be hell to pay! And maybe also the IRS to pay. Wait a minute, they're the same thing, so there'll be HELL TO PAY!"

I removed my portable Manny Pacquiao from my messenger bag and commanded him to beat up Mustafa in Tagalog. Manny speaks some other dialect, but he understand everything, even Eskimo, so there was no problem. He beat him up for me until Mustafa looked like a pile of apple sauce. Suddenly hungry, I told Manny to go make me some apple sauce using only his fists. He nodded, saying that was much easier than using his feet.

"What'll it be, Mustafa?"

Half dead, Mustafa twitched on the floor. He mumbled something. I couldn't hear him, so I grabbed his megaphone from the shelf and laid it on the floor next to his mouth. He mumbled again, but this time I could hear him.

"I... I only wanted you... to-to-to... watch my goose farm while I was 'dead.' I... I just thought you were...too-too-too... cool for the job. Now... now... now I'm still asking you to watch my goose farm, except this time I'll... really be... dead."

Gasping, feeling foolish, and also feeling like I needed to pee, I grabbed his head in my arms and poured tEa into his mouth. "I'm sorry, Mustafa! It's just you're so annoying! Here," I said, raising his broken hand and sticking a pen in it. "I prepared a will just in case something like this should happen. Quick, sign it before you die!"

He complied, probably because of the numerous concussions he'd received from Manny. I smiled, holding Mustafa's head in one hand and licking the will with the other.

"You know, Natalia, you always were my best student," he said, mustering all his strength to be coherent.

I put my finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. You'll ruin this beautiful moment." I continued licking the will, shedding tears of joy onto it.

I felt his body go stiff in my arm, and I dropped it to the floor, knowing that I was now a whole lot more filthy rich than before. "Poor man - he was sort of ok."

Then, looking down at the check in my hands, I giggled and laughed and danced - until I noticed that all the licking and crying I'd done all over it had smeared Mustafa's signature beyond recognition.

"CURSE YOU MUSTAFA!"

----

The purpose of this post was to inform you that I drank tea today, and that I enjoyed it quite a lot. Obviously, there was some sort of mutation or generation of the gene, and I birthed this creature.

American TackleBall

DYOOD I just finished Passage to India! I was so excited, it needed to be written.

And yesterday, I went to my first football game. Deprived? Yes. According to some, I am/was/it doesn't matter. Cause I went and I guess it was interesting. We kept the flag? We beat PD? We don't fail? Ok, cool. I'm happier about the kettlecorn and the brigade than I was about the actual game.

There was also some chick behind where we were sitting and she kept cramping my style, man. She got upset when people booed. IT'S A GAME, LADY. There's this little thing called a rivalry and people tend to get into it. I see nothing wrong with that.

After the third touchdown, somebody shouted, "You can just go home now, Palm Desert!" and people started singing "Goodbye," or whatever the balls it's called and the chick started going, "OMG THAT'S SO UNCLASSY WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN IF THEY COME BACK THAT'LL BE SOOOOOOO EMBARASSING."

STFU. They are obviously not gonna come back and if they do, then we fail. So what. People do crap like this all the time. GET OVER EET.

Meh. I just like being angry at people and that chick thought she was too cool for highschool games. "I IZ CLASSY." This is highschool, ugly pants, and nowhere does it say we have to be classy.

ALSO ALSO: THE BRIGADE = EPIC WIN. Twas pretty indeed.

Halloweeeeen

Soooooooo Halloween's like the holiday of pumpkins and costumes and shiz, right? YEAH, I did it! The build-up for Halloween for me was probably the most buildy-uppy I've had it in a while - I actually tried to consider my costume for once. And I've clearly had my fill of pumpkins for the year, as demonstrated by stuff and junk that you shall see shortly or, like, RIGHT FREAKING NOW.



Math pumpkins! We carved pumpkins in math to find IMPORTANT SERIOUS INFORMATION OF IMPORTANCE about them. Cause MATH = SRS BZNS. Obviously.







Michael = EPIC WIN for that pumpkin. Whoop de woop!

And this was my costume, so the entire world can know the weirdness that is me when I try to make a costume. It should be noted: cheap costume paint is cheap and lame. Not that I tried that hard, though. :D



I look like a cross between a hooker, some chick from the twenties, and maybe Marie Antoinette if she was pretending to be a queen instead of actually being a queen.

I'm Slurping Ice Cream and You Should Do It Too

So I have a story to tell.

While preparing to type how neglected this thing is, I accidentally dribbled vanilla ice cream all over the F key of my keyboard. It was starting to slide between the little cracks between the keys and, in a moment of panic, decided that wiping it up would only further drive the vanilla-y goodness into the black hole that is the backside of the keys and thus, swooped down quickly and suctioned that shiz up like a vaccuum. Urgh. I'm disgusted.

ANYWAY.

This thing is neglected as BALLS. Wait, no, that's wrong, because balls are probably way more unneglected than this blog thang. At least balls get scratched every once in a while. This thing? Not even a TICKLE. It makes me sad and I clearly felt the need to address this most worrisome issue, probably because I'm currently procrastinating on some VERY SRS BSNS that needs to be attended to.

PROCRASTINATIONWINFAIL

Oh yes, and yesterday was quite fun. After finding a see-through lace shirt that just seemed to make so much SENSE in my brain and actually buying the item (I have come a long way, yes sirree) and then watching my grandma tremble and shake on her recently operated knee, I headed off to a 1920's themed paaaaaaartay. I was all cloched out, ate all the cigarettes, drank all the punch, snorted all the pixie sticks, lost all the Cannoli money, and then won it all back. Guillermo and I decided that when I grow up I will be a compulsive and lousy gambler, as well as a compulsive QVC home shopper that'll buy all this weird ass stuff she'll never use.

AWW WELL, WHO NEEDS TO NOT BE BANKRUPT ANWAY! :D

Maaaaaaan I wish all my weekends were spent pretending to be in the 20's. It'd be fun.

Disneyland: Mining Equipment/Gay Edition

Were you there? I WAS THERE. It was epic and now I'm tired and it appears that I've caught the flu.

Basically: car drive to Disneyland was spent getting all amped and excited for the super magical day ahead, with a bit of singing here and there. Once we arrived, Sarah crashed into a sign, I laughed cause it was HILARIOUS and then stopped because I remembered it was her birfday, and people had their hands SPACE PRESSED by the weirdo, futuristic hand dryers of McDonald's Anaheim. I did not. However, I was a witness and can thus say, with the utmost conviction, THAT WAS SOME CRAZY SHIT. I thought I was on drugs or something.

We met a man who nearly broke my hand and has my DREAM JOB (he's a Disney castmember) and entered the park like ninjas, sitting down in the now OCTOBER/HALLOWEEN-ized Disneyland where autumnal colors reign supreme. While waiting for the rest of our crew to cross into Narnia, we spotted Alice and the Mad Hatter being their sweet selves and I couldn't help but imagine them making out right then and there because, let's face it, Bri-chan knows what she's talking about when she, er, draws. Yes. If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's ok, just assume you do.

Wanna know who else I saw? Ryan Higa. AKA NIGAHIGA.

Yes. THIS GUY.



With his GIRLFRIEND. D'AWW.

Sara, Amber, and I debated whether or not we should fangirl him. We sorta decided against it? And hoped maybe we'd see him around? Stand behind him in line? STEAL HIS SHIRT.

Eh hem. Moving on.

Stopped by the Disney Gallery/the 50 first magical years and I was like, "BETCH I KNOW THIS STUFF. I HAS SEARCHED FTW." Then, we decided fast passes for Space Mountain: Ghost Galaxy HAD to be acquired. I was not going to stand in line for HORUS. Or for hours. Just not worth it.

We also star toured. And shot at robots in space. And Matterhorned. And then we epically spun and screamed like nutters on the Teacups. WHICH I FILMED AND THEN ACCIDENTALLY ERASED. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHY.

THEN: There was mining equipment. NOT THE MINING EQUIPMENT. NOT THE FRUIT. OH NO, JESUS CHRIST. Snow White's Scary Adventures were scary, no joke.

Afterwords, we headed down the Big Thunder Trail between Fantasyland and Frontierland to walk into... a petting zoo? Yeah, really. With GOATS. I made new friends, I tell ya. Like the sheep, which started to walk away after it got tired of being surrounded by curious people. Perhaps the most epic of moments there, however, was how Woody rejected my hug (DISNEY CHARACTERS ARE ALWAYS FREAKING REJECTING ME) but then accepted.

Yup. Woody rejected AND accepted that Ho. And I have PROOF.

We were apparently hungry for overpriced food and backtracked to the Village Haus restaurant, where people bought overpriced food for consumption. Big Thunder Mountain railroad was next on our list, and it was EPIC. There was even MORE mining equipment. Seriously, Walt had some sort of mining fetish or something.

We Mark Twain riverboated it and spent a good few minutes waving at the people dressed in red down on the docks. Funnily enough, the people dressed in red for Gay Day '09 were the only ones who responded to our gay waves. The rest ignored us even when we pointed directly at them. WHAT DOUCHES. It's Disneyland, it's the closest you'll ever get to heaven, WAVE AT ME FOR WALT'S SAKE.

It was upon the gleaming white steamboat that we became interested in the Davy Crockett canoes, specifically in the one with the fine young lad with the head full of bouncy brown curls at the head of the rowboat. We attempted to hurry, not wanting to be stuck with some other bland canoe director; alas, it was not to be. Instead, we got this one chick who was actually not horrible, but was also not Mister Bouncy Curls. Poop!

Either way, I loved the canoes. I'd never done that before at Disneyland, and we all got very wet, I made a new friend who was like 6 years old, and it was made of epic win. My arms got a workout, yo.

I think we tried to get a fastpass for the Haunted Mansion? Or did we do this later? AT ANY RATE, we headed towards Space Mountain to experience this new fangled thing they call Ghost Galaxy. It was sorta the schnapps. Apparently, there are more ghosts than planetary bodies in space, but I sorta don't care. It was all good, and Anamaria learned a valuable lesson: always put your sweater on or you may end up with a less-than-flattering picture of yourself when you exit the ride. Lulz.

I think we were on our way towards Pirates of the Caribbean, which we rode for obvious reasons (it's only sorta necessary?), and then I think we did the Haunted Mansion, which was soooo spiffy in all its Nightmare before Christmas GLORY and then Indiana Jones ("WHY MUST THERE BE EXCAVATION!"). At the Temple of the Eye, Sara yelled at people and they jumped and freaked out. Twas funny.

Jungle Cruise? YES. Tarzan's treehouse? I had already screamed myself nearly hoarse, and I yelled and sang all the way up and then down because I have no shame.

Time starts getting fuzzy and I'm not exactly sure whether my chronology is right. I'm guessing it's not but let's just roll with it? Yes, let's.

Because the Aladdin show at Cal. Adventures is amazing, we head on over to experience the magic of the Arabian Nights during the Southern California afternoon. I'm soooo glad we did. I can't believe I hadn't seen that before. I mean, there's a REAL MAGIC CARPET that flies over the audience... that some dude died making, but that's beside the point. And the Genie killed it. KILLED IT. Brought it back to life, and then killed it some more. He was AMAZING. He alluded to Kanye and stupid crap, Jon & Kate, the SINGLE LADIES, the iPhone, and all this other crap.

I could watch an entire genies show. Or an entire show with Aladdin, who was sorta hot.

We ate dinner outside the park, Amber said the waiter was adorable (she meant Aidan, the baby), and then we planned Anamaria's entire nuclear holocaust LIFE. Upon rearriving at Disneyland, we found that what seemed like everyone in attendance had gathered on Main Street in preparation for the fireworks display. We maneuvered around in ninja-est of ways until we'd reached Frontierland/the site of the Fantasmic Night Spectacular... at the end of the show. NO PROBLEM. 10:30 showing, baby.

Everyone else wanted to go to Splash Mountain and I'm not too fond of the ride because a) the fall is LAME. Why can't I just hear singy animals be all, "Zippideedooda! SONG OF THE SOUTH WAS RACIST!"?, b)it has a huge line, usually and c) it will get you WET. I could already feel the tickle of sickness in my throat, quite different from that of hoarseness from a day of screaming, and I wasn't going to push it. Wetness + chilly night + tickle in throat = NOT GOOD.

So I decided to wait at the exit, browse Pooh's corner for antenna things, and then wait for my drenched buddies to come out. Like Ana. Nobody got it worse than Ana.

Eventually, we all managed to get to the Fantasmic spot, where I got angry at some stupid tall douche who was stupid, tall, and douchey, but I enjoyed the show nonetheless.

Thus the day ended. We were all tired as beans, we had all yelled and laughed and waved and spazzed over mining equipment continually, and we once again saw NigaHiga with his girlfriend upon exiting the park. Obviously we really didn't want to go up to him that bad because we were like, "Nah, he's in a hurry! Third times the charm!"

Hah. NO.

God, I'm tired. And, as always, I want to go back.

The First Debate

Today was the day of my first debate competition. Yes, the one I was unsure about joining because it would mean giving up my Saturday and not sleeping in late. But, obviously, that is a lazy and lame argument, so I rejected that Ho and decided to sign up anyway.

With my new partner. The one that I basically told he was my partner and really didn't have any say in the matter. Yeah, that one.

I woke up at 5:00 am this morning and put on the pants I'd pilfered from my mother's closet. Later, I arrived at school, where other people were waiting, like my partner, who had purchased some obscure energy drink because he was dying or something. I dunno. The kid is sorta weird. Scratch that, he's a whole lot of weird.

Eventually, I ended up in a stinky van driven by Ressing/Roessing/however her name's spelled (it doesn't matter, she's totally coolbeans), Lindsey and Adrienne and my partner. We sang like three Disney songs and then I dunno what happened.

Somehow, probably by driving, we arrived at the highschool. IT LOOKED LIKE A JAIL. Steel gray, two-floored, with weird boxish looking architectural features that looked like guard towers, and ROTC kids in their army uniforms standing out front - it didn't look like we'd gone to debate, it'd look like we'd been tricked into going to juvenile hall. WHUT.

After some sidelong glances at the ENEMY, some weird warm-up exercises concocted by the Varsity debaters that were basically a take on Theatre I games, and the weirdness that is that entire freakish team, the first debate round was posted! OH NOES. WHUT. I'M PROP? I DON'T WANT TO DEFINE, JUST LET ME GO HOOOOOME.

Hahaha no. So we prepped for twenty minutes, went in against a boyfriend and girlfriend team from I forgot where, and we basically kicked their joint black-tinged, red velvet ass. But apparently, everyone that had to agree with the resolution given pretty much won.

WHATEVER, I WON FROM PURE SKILL. AND MY PARTNER DID STUFF TOO, I GUESS.

It continued in much the same fashion for the rest of the day, with some waiting, then some prepping, then the actual debate, then another break, etc. The second one we lost but I totally should have seen that coming. We lost against this really cool team of badass kids who looked like the dorkiest, nerdiest guys, like they'd just trip over themselves in losing, but they kicked our butts. HARDCORE. Don't even get me started. I respect them though - smarty smarts, AND they were actually super cool. Kept saying hi to them throughout the day.

PIZZA TIME. Yeah, we ate pizza. Watched the rest of the team members be, erm, unique.

Our third debate was OMG WHUT, against the boyfriend/girlfriend couple of earlier. We lost. I don't understand why, I do think it was just some personal belief the judge had, because my team was better. Scratch that. I was on par with the chick, my partner was better than their dude, and their dude sorta sucked. That means we were generally better than they were, but whatever. I felt so bad for the boyfriend because, on our way back to cafeteria area, he was lamenting the fact that when he's next to his girlfriend, he feels so shaky and stuttery and like he's the girl and she's the guy.

I totally saw what he meant. That chick needs to back off. Nice and all but... she needs to tone it down a bit.

4th debate. Something must be said here: by this time, my feet hurt like a father. I'm walking on heels because it's more professional and to make sure my pants don't drag on the ground and, after a few hours and a few times up and down those stairs, my toes are on fire. So my feet hurt, I'm tired, it's hot (not as hot as here, though), and I'm starting to think my partner is semi-retarded/too nice/a creeper/a fugitive from the law and fearing that I may not be able to reject that Ho as my partner because then he might punch me in the face.

Yes. By the 4th debate, I didn't even care if I won, I just wanted to go home, and I was sooooo grateful that I had the 20 minutes of prep time to just chill and watch my partner rub a stick of Vicks Vaporub around his nostrils. I'm telling ya, this kid is weird.

So I chill for 20 minutes and don't worry too much because I'd actually seen my competition before hand and I knew it couldn't be as bad as debate number two. They hadn't even bothered to wear business attire, for crissakes!

The 4th was actually my favorite.

The judge was sort of an optometrist? She develops lenses for eyeballs and whatnot and showed us an example of one that she uses to show surgeons how to do their job. Pretty cool lady. Said she was 47 but she looked to be about 33. Anyway, she was coolbeans and the resolution was: This house would bring the troops home. I was on the opposition side, meaning I opposed the statement.

The proposition defined it as such: The majority of Americans would bring the troops home.

LULZ. GOTCHA BITCH. I learned from debate number two and will NEVER EVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE let something go undefined. Never. It's too bad you didn't catch me immediately after debate number 1, cause you might have had a chance, but not really.

To summarize: They did not specify which troops, so I took the liberty and said Mexican troops. Why? Half of the US population doesn't even know the US is sending military aid to Mexico, and I was pretty damn sure they didn't. Nobody watches Mexican news like I watch Mexican news.

They went on to say that we should bring the troops home from Iraq? That happened a while ago. Your point is moot, and made of fail.

Why are you talking about the counterculture of the 60's? What does that have to do with your resolution? NOTHING.

And my vaporub sniffing partner even came through for me, saying something about the troops in the state of Chihuahua. The opposing team (which had a dude named KASH, OMG FAVORITE NAME EVAR) was like, "CHIHUAWHAT?" It's good having someone from a Mexican state when we're talking about drug cartels and shit.

We won that shiz. But I didn't even care about winning against them, because it's obvious they knew nothing about what we were talking about. The win in that was the fact that we persuaded a woman who was a deep believer of "BRING THE TROOPS HOME," seeing as how her dad, brother, and grandpa had all served in various American wars and she saw no reason to keep them there.

But she sided with us cause we were more persuasive.

WIN WIN WIN WIN WIN.

Overall, I was happy with my performance. Quite the learning experience. And that's not even to mention all the random crap that debate people do. Like race on the freeway. And have weird dudes from other schools come and talk like they'd known us forever. And discovering that someone did, indeed, define troops as Girl Scout troops, just like I thought they would. And seeing two dudes chest bump in the middle of an empty parking lot. And listen to Carlos Santana OVER AND OVER AND OVER again. And listening to the Varsity members be like, "THAT WAS SHIT, THEY WERE WRONG, WE ARE RIGHT BECAUSE OF CHINA AND ECONOMY WOMFLASJDFALMQ."

Angry German Kid

I'm sure this is OOOOOOOOLD news but I can't get over it because I've just seen it.

His name is Angry German Kid. And he and I are now the bestest of friends.



I only found out about him because my younger brother was watching videos and came upon Angry Man From Deutchland. There have apparently been many video game spoofs made about him or whatever and I sorta love it. I feel sad that I never saw this before - WEHRE HAVE I BEEN? WHICH SON OF A BITCH IS SHOOTING AT ME? *SCREAMS INCOMPREHENSIBLE*

I'm shutting up now. No, really.