Mah Bedrooms (I actually only have 1, but the S is for emphaSIS)

I was browsing the internets as I usually do when I stumbled upon this:



I obviously cannot have that room with those shelves and that deep blue wall paint. Still, I WANTED IT. I was like Veruca - which, incidentally, DOES mean wart in Italian - Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Grand movie, that is.

SO I DID IT. Sorta - I don't have that many books, unfortunately. I had to dust my shelves anyway - for some reason, having an outdoor room seems to invite a whole lot of dust and fuss balls into my sleepin' space. Or maybe my air filter doesn't work like it should.

Steph Meyer wasn't allowed on the shelf - too big, too black.

I love that picture of the girl.

Dumbledore!

Why yes, that is a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory collectible card. Jealous?

A gift from mah grandma. I love her. And my spelling bee trophy - strictly a "you participated!" trophy but still.

It's only taken me about three years to put crap up on the plain white walls. DESPICABLE. And it's still sorta plain. EVEN MORE DESPICABLE.

You like blur? I LOVE blur.

Piggy bank, courtesy of my ol' crazy aunt in Mexico.

Even is she is a child-hating BASTARD. I haven't forgotten, Snow White...

Snickerdoodle the Hickory Pirate. He's been on TV! On Drake and Josh, he got thrown across the room in one episode. Twas a sad day for Hickory Pirates EVERYWHERE.

Lollipop from Disneyland, licked by nobody... 'cept Clark Happy Boxx.


Consider that a Blur gift from the GODS.


I've been steadily skipping around my collection of Potters. Yay!



Who knew California Strawberries spoke French? I won't lie - I'm impressed, Stawberries.

I've never been much of a cereal person, so obviously me and oatmeal are little more than aquaintances. I love the smell of oatmeal - the problem with oatmeal is that every bite I've ever taken of it tastes like flavorless mush. I like my mush FLAVORFUL, thank you very much. Still, I decided to give oatmeal a chance because it lowers cholesterol and the idea of stuff clogging up my arteries REALLY FREAKS ME OUT. Not nearly as much as the idea of osteoporosis, which is FREAKING SCARY, if you ask me, but still freaky.


I have a feeling oatmeal and I will become the greatest of friends. Nearly as friendly as Ophelia and I. Ok, maybe not, you get the idea. (I mean, how could we be that close? Oatmeal doesn't even have a fine mustache!)

Also, today I heard about this dude who was having marriage troubles, so he hired a dude to kill his wife. Totally effing gangsta.

Ophelia Is My Golden Star

Welcome the newest addition to my family of furniture! I've yet to name the beautiful thing, though I do believe I may call it Ophelia. Or something.



Ophelia is replacing my old chair, which received no name because it deserved none. No, really.



Cheapie thing, that. The back of it broke off, its pleather ripped, and then it unceremoniously tossed me from its wobbly self one evening as I was browsing the webs. Oh, the audacity!

Ophelia, on the other hand, is sturdy and encourages good posture for my developing spine. Best of all, it was free! My uncle found it while working and brought it back to my house. He believes he's going to be taking it home tomorrow; unfortunately for him, I have claimed dearest Ophelia as my own. We've already become the best of friends - we gossip and paint each other's toenails and braid each other's hair and even groom each other's fine mustaches!

...

Eh hem... Yes.

While following links on youtube yesterday, I stumbled across My Brightest Diamond. It's a band? The project of singer-songwriter multi-instrumentalist Shara Worder? That's really all I know about it.

While I know next to nothing about music, I do know I love this chick/band. I'm just feelin' it, ya know? I mean, look at her:



And now, listen:



It doesn't hurt that "Ads by Google" keeps asking me if I love lucid dreaming. (Your ads by google may ask you other questions like, "Are you secretly a rapist? Find out now!" I don't know how Google works...) I thought that was kinda cool (not the rapist thing, which didn't actually happen, but the lucid dreaming thing. KEEP UP). By the way, yes, I most certainly do love lucid dreaming. I'd tell you about this dream I had last night but I fear you're already bored.

Actually, I don't really care.

I dreamt I was going to Mexico and my family was leaving without me. They were acting like it was a trip to the grocery store and everyone was ready to go, all packed and everything, while I rushed around my room picking things that would be useful on a month-long vacation to the land of the Aztecs. For some reason, my dream self decided I needed tons of cameras, books, film, and my wall decorations to properly enjoy my trip.

I forgot to pack clothes. Apparently, my dream self felt that clothes were IRRELEVANT. I can wear the same pants for FOREVER, right? No big deal.

AAAAND while drawing my curtains today - yes I do have heavy curtains, sorta - my curtain rod fell. THE EARTH HAD ENDED. Until I fixed it. With much slow maneuvering - and a few chips in the plaster/stucco round my door - I got the ladder into my room and fixed the fine mess I'd made.

Be proud of me, because I am.

Let's MOVIT!

Just a few things.

1. Guys with V-neck t-shirts sorta freak me out. They should stop wearing V-necks.

2. There exists someone in this world named Dr. Orly. I don't think her parents hated her - I think they were just foreign. And the term, "Orly?" probably didn't exist yet.

3. If you can't tell by number 2, I've been watching the Colbert Report. The following is one of the things I saw. I enjoyed it thoroughly, though I was bothered because I couldn't figure out what language they were speaking, and I'm usually quite good at that sort of thing.

I'm still not too sure whether it's German or something else. My mother's rudimentary German, the one she didn't properly learn in High School because she was too busy not paying attention, is rudimentary and doesn't help AT ALL. Obviously.

HERE THEY ARE. MAH GOODNESS, THEY ARE SO CATCHY.



They make me MOVIT!

[EDIT]: Nett says they're Swedish. I believe her.

4. Saw The Haunting in Connecticut last night. First scary movie I've seen in a LOOOOONG time. And, maybe it was the fact that I was with people, or that I had food in my belly, but I didn't find it all too scary. Mostly QUITE INTERESTING. I couldn't help making Jesus jokes throughout the movie. I also couldn't stop comparing Kyle Gallner (I think that's his name), the actor who played the main dude, to Robert Pattinson.

Kyle plays Matt Campbell, a kid with cancer who has to get radiation treatment or chemo or whatever it is. Thus, he is sickly and pale. PALE. Keep that in mind. Thanks to the radiation, his neck and chest take on this strange reddish color.

Edward in the Twilight movie is pale. In one picture I saw of him, his stomach was strangely pink, as if the Twilight crew didn't have enough money to powder his treasure trail.

COINCEDENCE? I THINK NOT.

I now have conclusive evidence that Edward is not, in fact, a vampire but a CANCER PATIENT. Stephanie Meyer obviously cannot tell the different between the two. Weirdo.

Kyle Gallner/Matt Campbell sorta looks like Robert Pattinson/Edward Cullen. I'm obviously not the first person who thought of this, because some other chick made this picture:



LOLWHUT. I think I'm done with this shiz.

I Wept Into My Salad

I heard that Rupert Grint owns and operates his own ice cream truck. He apparently also took two tries to pass his driving test. Obviously, I now love Rupert Grint just a little more.

IN ADDITION, Evanna Lynch, the actress who plays Luna Lovegood, is even more loved by me than she previously was. I read her Wikipedia page and really, there's no way I couldn't love her. It's just... so much HP love still floating around my household. It's darling.

I went to see Ice Age 3 today: enjoyed it. A lot. It was cute! And funny, as these types of films tend to be.

Then I ate at DA YARDHOUSE. MMMM that place is delicious.

Unfortunately, my good day was slightly tainted by the fact that USA lost against Mexico in the final for the Gold Cup. Can you believe it, Mexico made in FIVE GOALS. Do you know how many the US made?

None.

I was greatly bothered. I wept into my summer salad. I dribbled mucus into my mu shu egg rolls. I slopped saliva onto my father's pan seared ahi tuna (that's what you get for rubbing your win in mah face, old man!). And I'd rather not even mention what I did to my siblings plates of fried calamari. Or what happened to the waiter - I promise that was purely accidental. The man understood - he too was despairing over the great loss.

I'm not sure if anyone knows this, but one of my life dreams is to go to a World Cup, preferably one in a foreign country. I got so excited for the 2006 Germany World Cup and I'm looking forward for South Africa 2010. Before, I didn't truly care about soccer. The thing that changed it was HP and the Goblet of Fire and their Quidditch World Cup.

The World Cup of ours is the closest thing to it. God forbid I never get to experience the undiluted levels of fanaticism that revolves around a world sport.

Really, if I never get to join in that level of sports fun, I might as well never have existed.

I noticed that most goalies seem to love yelling at their team when the ball gets too near. Like, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Aren't you supposed to be my defense or something? SHUT THE HELL UP AND DEFEND, BITCH. They would've totally made that last one in if it wasn't for my obviously UNMATCHABLE, INCONTESTABLE, and SUPERIOR skill!"

Gah, it's freaking great.

Oh yes, have you met Memo Ochoa? He's Mexico's goalie. I think he's got pretty hair. He's also one wicked keeper/goalie.

Freakin' Fantastic Day

So I was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking liquid ice-cream and reading Deathly Hallows, when my brother announces we've received a package. Or several.

OH JOY! What on Earth could it be?

AS IF I DON'T KNOW.



Oh yeah. It's that pair of little beauties. I know, you're aroused just by looking at them. Behold their various beauty shots!





Oooooh YEAAAAH. *koolaidman*

They came accompanied with a box with two pairs of the same shoe in the same size. WAY TO GO, ONLINE STORE. Screwed up me order, ya did. But it's ok, you're forgiven, because at least they were delivered (plus, return policy!). The shoes give off the smell of leather wherever they go - my room currently smells like new shoe. And I'm lovin' it. Like McDonald's.

Now, anyone remember that Anthem essay we had to write a few months ago? The one I'm sure you forgot until I mentioned it, like, a second ago? YEAH WELL... guess who's a finalist? :DDDDDD

That's right. I AM. I received an email from DA INSTITUTE OF AYN RAND that says I'll be receiving a package that includes my prize ($50 for doing my homework? HELLS YES!), certificate, and official letter or something.

Thanks, Anetha Milllis. I guess there was a method to the madness. (No speaking of the true name, friendlies. If you call her, she shall come.)

AAAND: My Ricardo Arjona tickets arrived in the mail today too! It's been a freakin' fantastic day.

I Wish Disney Would Show Me the World Again

"Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them. Some wizards just like to boast that theirs are bigger and better than other people's."

~ Hermione (Deathly Hallows 415)

After reading that whole wand thing a while ago, where they point out all the various ways wands are used, I couldn't help but laugh at this. I'm almost certain that, if DH got one of those SUPER WAND RECAPS OF DOOOOM, this made it in. It just had to.

It goes without saying that this is what I spent my day doing - reading Deathly Hallows. I did my compulsory chores, and then sat down on the couch, or the kitchen, or the bathroom floor, or the toilet, or in the laundry room, and read. I have very little else to report about my life, and yet I feel as if this must be documented FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS. By that, I mean ME. It's important for me to remember how I spent my summer because, when school starts, I forget everything.

I've forgotten most of 7th grade, if you can believe it.

Something that I was thinking as I watched Hercules the other night: I love Disney movies. Really, that's not such a novel idea - everyone loves Disney movies. I still do love Disney movies, despite all the crap everyone harps on about how the Golden Age of Disney has ended. That's a horrible thing to say - if Walt saw the new stuff, he'd be incredibly impressed. He'd beat himself up for not having matched the level of current Disney artists.

I just wish Pixar would include songs. I loved that about Disney, how great it was to sing along with the songs.

Now that I read it, none of that's new at all. I think everyone would love Pixar even more if it mixed a little of Disney's love for Broadway and Musical. Would it kill them to put in a few musical numbers? Is that too much to ask?

Maybe it is, and I'm just being whiny because I want to sing with my movies. Which is weird, since I've never really been a big musical fan, not really. Not live action, anyway.

STILL. Don't tell me this doesn't make your litte child heart flutter and your vocal cords move of their own accord.

It makes mine. Excuse me while I sing and cry fat tears of joy.



And the references to other Disney films. It makes me weep a little harder.

Literature

I do believe that one of the best feelings in the world is discovering that you are no longer required to attend Summer School, even if the "semester" wasn't all that horrible to begin with. It's pretty damn great.

Wanna know what's better than that? Finishing Things Fall Apart. My suspicions about that book were correct - I knew what would happen before it all happened (sort of) and, as I also rightly predicted, it sucked balls from beginning to end. What the hell was Chinua thinking?

And I still have other things I have to read. No, I don't have to read Deathly Hallows again, especially because I've got a good number of books that still need to be read, but I can't really help it; recently, I've been hit with the full strength of the Harry Potter love - you know, the one you got when you first started the series.

It's like that. And I ain't gonna fight it. I'm not stupid - that stuff's like liquid luck.

And after that? Sherlock Holmes, TECHNOLOGICA-FIED. Yay, e-books! And after that? Books being pressed into my hands by my relatives. From the aunt - Teatro Chicana, a memoir about a Mexican theatre troupe (I think). From the uncle/cousin - The Bible, both testaments. Also from the aforementioned dude, The Book of the Martyrs, a history of the Christian Martyrs from Biblical until modern times.

I'm not too keen on the last two, truth be told. Small print, in Spanish, and ... yeah. You know. The subject matter isn't something I'm too excited about. If it weren't for the fact that FREAKING EVERYTHING alludes to the Bible, I don't think I'd actually consider reading it, but seeing as how EVERY WRITER IN THE HISTORY OF THE PLANET found the need to allude and allude and allude ...

JESU-CHRISTO, DIOS MIO.