So I'm sitting here with my hair piled on a sticky mound atop my head, coated in hydrogen peroxide, cetyl alcohol, a lovely little bugger called pyro-phosphate, and various other unpronouncable carcinogens. I'm emanating a distinct ammonia stench.

I think I may have inadvertantly gassed the frog whilst slathering this over my scalp. As soon as the "colour developer" was opened, he stopped moving. And hasn't started since. I'd feel mildly guilty if the dratted thing hadn't decided to infiltrate my room one night. YOU try waking up to an invisible speck jumping around the room, driving the cat into a frenzy.

I've been able to mold my hair into some pretty neat shapes, though. The faux-hawk, wilting spikes, and something resembling the turquoise lady-Jedi's twin head-growth's are the most notorious thus far.

I feel vaguely like the fantastic Ghost Busters. "Why worry? We just have unlicensed nuclear reactors strapped on our backs."

Why worry? I just have chemicals that if left in a closed container will cause it to explode saturating my hair [no joke -- it's a label warning].

T-minus 6 minutes to finding out whether I will indeed have neon orange hair or not.

::::LATER:::: Things are looking suspiciously crimson up there. I'll give it a few more minutes.... If I resemble Carrot Top in any way, I'm going to be both pissed and relieved. Pissed because my hair is orange. Relieved because it was 2-for-1, and I also bought dark brown dye. We shall see....

Not really, but I though I might reel in a few more unsuspecting readers with a title like that. *Grins*

I may be moving on to bigger and better things as far as employment is concerned. I may be working in a ......*dramatic pause*.........

LAW FIRM!!!!!

You may worship from afar.

I'm quite excited. John Green, a lawyer who attends St. Paul's Episcopal as well, called me today with a list of several Murfreesboro attorneys, and even offered to call ahead and warn them. I was planning to work for observation, but he tells me to sell myself [shut up] as a "runner" of sorts. This will no doubt entail doing as many menial tasks as can be squeezed into one day [I shall once and for all learn to use a coffee maker, for instance] but instead of getting to watch, I get to watch and hopefully get minimum wage, which is reams better than just watching.

But.... They'll have to take me, first.

Let's hope that happens. *Crosses fingers* *You should do the same [especially if you consider yourself anything remotely close to "Rad."]

On an even lighter note, I read the latest Harry Potter today, and am quite blank. I think this is a good thing. Not too certain yet.

And, rising to ever-higher levels of fluffy content, I'm dying my hair tonight. Wish me luck, and hope it doesn't turn orange or any other frightful neon hue. The last at-home dye job didn't take. Understandably miffed, I am only now making a second attempt.

*Vreeeeeeee* Ciao.

I have emerged from the familial gathering unharmed, if not neccessarily unscathed.

Long story short: Within five minutes of arriving, one of the older attendees was asking me if I had mono. No. Then if I had a boyfriend. Again, no -- too busy. At which point I was informed that girls were never too busy for boyfriends. Ah, yes, this is where I excuse myself before I start touting feministic ideas.

*Blinks*

So today was all right. I might wind up being a gopher in a law firm in exchange for observation [and might even get some cash, but I neither set much stock by it nor care -- no, really]! Mum got a little bit psychotic, I guess you could say. The kind where nobody does anything correctly, even if they're not doing anything at all [which is the highest crime]. So I sought refuge at Leland's, where we watched Cellular. It was a pretty good film. A few instances were quite reminiscent of L.A. Confidential, particularly toward the end. This was followed by some of the more amusing snippets of The Patriot. "Here are your captive officers, sir." Haaaaa! Alas, right after that lovely line, it was time to leave, for my cousin turned 20 today, which is really surreal. I feel.... Old....-er. Go figure.

And Dad's switching off the light, which means I have to log off so that he can sleep.

Good night, all!

In ten minutes I leave for a "Sullivan family reunion."

What's sad is that they're virtually indistinguishable from the Phillips' side of the family.

Small wonder. One woman [who will remain anonymous due to the fact that I don't know her, nor wish to alleviate such a situation] was heard to utter, "Why, I'm related to her through both Momma and Daddy!"

I can't help but wonder how my father wound up normal.

Pray for me. I may wind up fielding questions about marriage.

So I was reading someone's post about how they wanted a fairytale, and I just have to ask....

If you were to write your fairytale, what would it be?

Mine is fairly warped. It would involve a reluctant royal bound to a prearranged marriage contract. This sticky situation is made doubly difficult by the fact that she is developing extraordinary powers over which she has no control, leaving them apt to manifest at very inopportune moments. So like any dutiful daughter would, she leaves home and assumes a commoner identity. During her travels, which are rife with adventure as always, she winds up in a situation that involves her saving the life of a foreign-born travelling minstrel. The minstrel attaches himself to her, and try as she might, she just can't shake him off. This, just like in any other fairytale, means they eventually fall in love. They travel to his native country, where there's an excess of political unrest. They overthrow the corrupt nobility and just before everyone lives happily ever after....

She discovers he's the monarch she tried to escape a prearranged marriage contract with by running away.

Then everyone lives happily ever after.

So, what's yours?
Come oooon, tell!

Yoinked from SingAHappySong/Amy Pow-ahhs



photo from SingAHappySong

Just another fulfilling work day.... ;)

Well, I'm home.

Virginia is quite possibly the most beautiful place I've ever had the pleasure of visiting.

It almost made up for the overwhelming desire to strangle 1/3 of the Jeskey bloodline. Seriously, I love my family, really. I do not love being in a car for ten hours with them.

Family togetherness is one of the overwhelming ills facing society today.

But.... Everything was worth it. Well, almost worth it. You know why? I bought a box filled with books, not a one of them printed before 1918. This includes three FRENCH BOOKS, an 1892 script for Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, Ivanhoe, The Last of the Mohicans, A Tale of Two Cities, Silas Marner.... Five dolla', foo'. For about seventeen aged books. With letters betwixt the pages. I found this box early on and stood beside it for literal hours, sutbly interrogating anyone who happened to peruse it. *Protective stance* "Do you like old books? Me too. Any particular interest in this lot? Oh, good."

Old books are love.
*HEART*

I'll not post the trials and tribulations, but to give you a general idea....
Within thirty minutes of driving on Saturday I almost had vehicular homicide burned into my record.
Because cyclists are convinced that twisty mountain paths are the ideal place to practise their art. Lurking around corners is their main source of entertainment, the better to catch innocent motorists unawares.

Fuuuuuuuun.

It's raining. I want to do something.

Aside from clean my room. But that seems to be unavoidable. Someone save me from it! *Falls into organisational quicksand* *Air bubbles cease* *Death is imminent*

At this time tomorrow, I'll hopefully be nearing the Virginia state border.

For now, I'm sitting at my grandparents' watching Fox News beat the Natalie Halloway case into the ground as they interview random Aruban attorneys who are in no way related to the case aside from the instance of their nationality, and wondering when China will get around to nuking us.
Good times in America, foo'.

Some people.... *Exasperation*

My family desires me to work for that television network. They fail to realise that my political views would get me both sacked and maimed on the first day of job training.

The amount of makeup women wear on that show is astounding. They must use trowels.

Car commercials get weirder every day. Watch the latest Eclipse commercial and you'll see what I mean. [Tribal drumming is sooooo relevent.]

My frickin' god. I may be in all likelihood staying in-state for undergrad.
For a good reason. A very, very good reason.
I'm floored.

So yes, Virginia.... I get to test the acceleration of Granny's zippy new [red, might I add] Honda. Woohooooooo! *Grins*

Now my grandmother is discussing the properties of date-rape drugs sold in Aruba, and how they react with alcohol. And various methods of being safe at parties. Interesting. And analysing the handcuff patterns used on Joran Van Der Sloot [such a surname if ever I heard one; I know he's Dutch, but it's still just plain funny]. And on to sonar and cadaver dogs.... She's quite amusing -- I love her.

Thunderstorms are not one of God's greatest accomplishments, let's just clear that up right now.

You know you're best friends when you run a box down to their house, she's not there [because the lucky bitch is in the School of Visual Arts camp in Manhattan], but you stay for over an hour just talking with her mum and sister. :) Woot.

Quote of the Day
"I'm all for you moving out!" -- My beloved mother.
She didn't mean it that way. We were discussing my habitation should I attend MTSU. Because I really don't want to be the type of person who lives at home through college and then moves out when she gets married. Granted that works for some people [my cousin undoubtedly will be included in this], but trying to survive outside one's childhood home just seems to be an important developmental step.

Someone pounded on the glass door leading to the patio. The girl nearest to it turned and drew aside the blinds. Standing there in the near-night was a pale, skinny boy in oversized black clothing. He looked nervous. She tilted her head, questioning him.
“The building’s on fire!” He shouted through the glass door. The girl blinked. It was as though she hadn’t even heard him, as though he had just moved his lips soundlessly.
“What?” she asked, her voice taking the tone of someone who had just tuned into the very wrong part of a conversation.
The building’s on fire. Get out. She blinked. They went back and forth like this twice more, the girl unsure yet all too aware of what she had heard, and the lad repeating the fact endlessly.
At last everyone rose. The “mother” of the group told everyone to grab their purses, wallets, or anything else they might need as thirteen people formed a line. The girl heard the glass door open behind her and the young man step into the apartment. She walked calmly to the front where her bag was. Nonetheless, her movements were erratic. She knelt to gather her purse and shoes, wondering why she couldn’t pick them up as easily, completely numb to the can of Dr. Pepper burdening one hand. She wished nimbleness in her fingers, the better to get out of the way in order to let everyone escape the apartment complex. . It was probably a small fire, she told herself. He didn’t sound that frenzied. She wondered where the blaze was.
They stepped outside, and a policeman quickly ushered them across the street. They looked up. The roof was crowned by whipping orange as black smoke charged upward in a sooty rush.
The young man who had warned them was standing a few cars down. The girl who had answered his knock wanted desperately to go to him, to thank him, but her eyes were hostage to the sight before them. The next time she looked back, he was gone.
A woman walked by, asking for wet towels for the firefighters. Everyone looked at her stupidly. The owner of the apartment pointed to his doorway and said, They’re in there. The woman turned to building, and moved on.
One girl dialled home. Mum, before I say anything else, I just want you to know that everyone and everything is all right.
What happened?
The building caught on fire.
Silence. Then, Are you okay?!
Yes, Mum. That’s why I prefaced the entire phone call with it.
Thirteen people sat on a hill across the street from the broiling apartment. Two of them made trips to the gas station, buying water for the fire fighters. The second time they harvested three more of their group. It was decided that if necessary, the girls would use their clothes to carry bottles. One of them wondered what possessed her to wear heels that night.
Flames scuttled across a new section of roof and down the interior walls, eating at tile rapaciously. The power in the apartment was still on – it was a miracle. Everyone latched onto this hopeful sign. The owner of the apartment rested his head in someone’s lap, but at that point smoke got the better of her, and she abandoned the group, trying to find a place to hang her head should her digestive system decide to reverse. The owner soon found her and they sat on the steps talking well into the night, watching the fire creep slowly to his porch roof and running down it like the water that extinguished it seconds later.
Is it just me, or is the chimney leaning to the right, he asked.
She tilted her head. Yeah, I think it’s leaning to the right.
Firemen concentrated their hoses on the chimney, which soon toppled to the ground like a beast felled.
I’m about to lose everything I own for the second time, he whispered.
They’ll stop the fire before then, she assured him. The power’s still on, see?
I see…

That's nonfiction, guys.
This is what happens when I return to civilisation [just in time for the Third Annual Angelina Jolie Sundance Film Festival -- of Hendersonville]. If you heard about an apartment burning down Saturday night, that was us. Can we party, or what?!

AH-HAH!

VICTORY!!

Actually, more like an Act Of God.

The estate auction is NOT, as I had feared, THIS Saturday, but NEXT Saturday. I'm ecstatic.

But what else was I suppose to assume when the email reads, "You'd drive up there Friday, the auction starts at 8:30 on Saturday, then come back Sunday morning." ....That's what I thought. :]

I'm developing a bruise on my foot. What have I been doing with that foot to merit bruising???? Absolutely nothing. Gah. It at least could have been something cool, like I was scaling the Capitol building to save Pope Benedict Insert-Number-Here from certain death and when we were safely on the ground being applauded, he stepped on it. But he's the Pope, so since he's holy would he neccessarily cause bruises?
Ponder this while I go eat dinner and tango.

So.... I might not be coming home until freakin' Sunday.

Explanation:
My great-great-aunt or great-aunt or.... Okay, a relative on my grandfather's side of the family died several months back. Her estate auction is [I'm guessing] this weekend. My grandmother really wants to go. Grandfather not so much. Mum can't drive her because Caroline has a horse show in Lexington, Kentucky, that weekend as well [because things always work out that way]. She lived in northern Virginia. I have no problem doing this at all because exponentially-great-auntie was a packrat and has diaries, saddlebags, etc. from the Civil War. In fact, my great-grandfather watched as the Shenendoah Valley was torched at the age of three. But.... I don't know. I'm upset, but I'm not really sure why. I think it's because I'm going straight from BFE to a pilgrimage into Virginia [Oooooh, Brian will be so jealous, lol....] without a break to, I don't know, sleep in my own bed, do some laundry, experience traffic, visit home. We should be able to make the drive in one day. We will if I'm driving, at any rate. Just praying Granny doesn't watch the spedometre, as siblings are so fond of doing. ;)

It's an adventure.
I guess I'm doing laundry before leaving. I just want to know how/why we're going to hold all my dorm crap aside from luggage. These new Hondas are big, but honey, they're not THAT big.
This is confusing. I need details beyond the fact that the auction begins at 8:30 AM. That means nothing to me. It could be 8:30 AM next week for all I know.
That's it. Telephone call ensuing.

I've never driven farther from home than Hendersonville.
My grandmother is more directionally challenged than I am.
Maybe since I'm computer-literate her navigation system will take pity on us.

But if we don't get where we're supposed to be, we'll at least have another story in our pockets. :)
Now I'm excited. How much more schizophrenic can this post get?

Hot and sweaty from tangoing. Shut up. It takes a lot out of ya.
I'm going to wash my nasty self.
Ciao.

Revelation: Maybe if we're close enough to Washington, D.C. we could drive there and pass a day in the city!! And visit the National Gallery with the portrait of Ginevra di Benci!!!
*DROOOOOOOOOOOOOL*
I am geniusness.

I've been tango-ing for most of the day!

That makes me the hot-double-t-ness. You may worship from afar.

My right side is covered in bruises and scrapes. Curse you, dive-y roll, you! *Shakes fist in rage* Even sitting is an event. And let's not even get into lying down to sleep [when it happens]....

Running into a locked door slightly less than hot-double-t. But rather entertaining.

Next time we see a golf cart, we're hijacking it. But you don't know about that. *Shhh*

Mr. and Mrs. Smith is coming together. I'm excited. We might actually be able to pull this off by Thursday. But that implies we have any choice.

I'm off to do laundry shortly. Oh, the glories of throwing everything in cold water. ;)

Domestically challenged and proud. But I can tango.

Creepy-Side-Of-The-Monitor-Guy is back.

At a different table.
He's looking at Harleys.

I have The Evil Overlord Career Guide website up as a potential buffer.

Hah. Assume the cloak of impossible nerdiness and they will run in fear. At least, I certainly hope so.

Favourite Career Tip Ever:
56. My Legions Of Terror will be trained in basic marksmanship. Any who cannot learn to hit a man-sized target at 10 metres will be used for target practice.

He's gone. Safe! I am the only occupant of this room. I feel the power.
And this time there's no security camera reading over my shoulder to rain on any acts of potential diabolicalness!

Drama workshop in 32 minutes!!!!! I'm tres excited. :)

Someone IM'd me a few minutes ago.

I thought it was a pop-up.
So I killed it.

Was it you??

More interesting stuff in the previous post. There's a new monitor guy. O_O

Now there's a Creepy Redneck Side-Of-The-Monitor Guy. *Pause.* How did he know I was in philosophy 160???

And now he's trying to convince me to come to college here. Or LSU, where he is going to attend grad school.
I tell him I want to attend college in the urban north.
"Ah dunno eff I could do that, Ah've got me some promblums with thet pahrt." [I'll give you one guess as to why.]

He's concentrating in poli-sci. So I mention Mummy Dearest majored in that. And am now being grilled as to what she did with it.

It's all I can do not to laugh or cringe at this point.

I'm very tempted to bring up something about how my parents met at assasin's camp or something. Or that I'm going to double-minor in marksmanship and judo, and does LSU have those courses?

If we were in civilisation I wouldn't be so.... weirded out. But the man won't even travel north because of a war that was fought 150-odd years ago.

So much for writing that final piece of script.... I'm busy fielding questions from the natives.

Wah. *Seeks refuge in fine arts building*

Leland, you'll appreciate this.

So Finis walks up to me on the way to geography yesterday and starts elaborating on how we crazy emcees are going to be doing a Mr. and Mrs. Smith theme for the talent show here, complete with fight scenes, and that we're going to be playing the title roles.

Fun, no?

There's going to be a mass meeting to write the script.

I'm excited.

So yesterday we boarded a bus at about noon in order to go traipse through the home of William Falkner. Four hours and three turnarounds later, we're convinced we're going to die in the wilderness.
The house was nice. The grounds were lovely. The four-foot long poisonous snake was less than attractive, even at a distance. At which point I decide the gardens aren't lovely enough to get bitten over. Down the nature trail it is, then, complete with scoffing at the "don't go past the first bridge" warning! [Come on, I grew up crawling through underbrush without benefit of a trail. What can happen?] Hmmmm.... What's that old guy doing walking around in the wild untamed portion of the forest [which is actually a vast majority of the woods]? He looks lost. Except for the fact that he's staring intently at something red hanging limply from a tree. I'll get closer and try to see what it is! *A few steps later* Then again, mayyyyybe I won't. People die that way.
Boy, I miss that poisonous snake about as long as I am tall.... Time to go back! *JauntJauntJaunt*

Memphis mall was the best and longest part of that trip, aside from the drive, which definitely wins out on endurance. Helmut [our geography professor] ate dinner with us. He is one incredibly cool old guy. He prices Indian artefacts on the side, kind of like Indiana Jones! Except he's old, and not wreaking havoc upon the Nazi party. I have a studded belt now. For one-fifth the price of those at Hot Topic. It makes me happy. :) I've now been to five Hot Topics within the state of Tennessee. And a bunch of us tried on corsets at Charlotte Russe [which are really just interestingly cut, heavily embroidered polyester shirts with a few cable ties set at flattering angles, but hey, they were still pretty]. There is photographic evidence. I wound up locked out of the changing room, though. That got interesting. Especially when trying to find an associate. Oh well. Makes for a story.

Anyway....

It's the weekend. Oh joy, oh rapture. Well, it would be joy and rapture if I didn't have to be memorising the location of about fifty European geographical sites.

Oh dear. Creepy Over-the-Monitor Guy is back. After staring in the door and deciding whether he wants to come in. *Waves uncertainly* His demise has not yet come about. As is, granted, evident from the fact that he's here, alive and well. I could plot it, form it, perfect it until victory is certain, and he's still be oblivious.

....I like doing this a little too much.

[Ciao.]

::EDIT:: Oh. My God. Over-the-Monitor guy has a friend. I believe they're speaking in French. O_O *Doink* ::END EDIT::

I feel like I should update, but I really have no idea what to type.

You know what I said about the last three weeks become "extremely, hm, interesting?" ......Scratch that. Stupid caterers. Stupid orcs. Still not king.

I think the coffee is wearing off from this morning, as I am in a very-close-to-black mood....

The creepy guy at the computer across the table from me keeps sitting up straight intermittently in order to see over the monitor. Damn him. I shall shatter his glasses with my heel and then strangle him with the mouse cord. Hahaaaa! And he shall never terrorise another computer lab again. What's great is that I can type an entire paragraph about his demise while he sits three feet away and smiles. And he'll be completely oblivious until I enact my "cunning plan." Which is quite literally and rather amusingly bringing an evil smirk to my face that he is misinterpreting as benevolence. My victim is unsuspecting, having been lulled into a false sense of security. I may strike at any time, and take this creature utterly by surprise.

......As I remember there's a security camera behind me reading every word.

CURSES.

We're going to Oxford, Mississippi, tomorrow in order to tour William Faulkner's home. Bonus: stopover in Memphis for dinner. Civilisation. There is a god!! Maybe we can go to Starbucks.... A town without Starbucks does not deserve to be on the map. Did you know there are nearly five times as many tanning salons as there are Starbucks in the nation?? [I guess they counted the ones that were attached to a deisel pump.] This is frightening.

Writing here about random pointless things has actually put me in a good mood. I'm not even sure why. But hey, who am I to question it??

All quotes taken from an MSNBC article written by Alex Johnson of Nashville, Tennessee.

"Reviving a major plank of his re-election campaign, President Bush called for a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage Tuesday."

Please. Does this really constitute an amendment to the mother-loving Constitution of the United States of America?! I was labouring under the delusion that this was a country founded upon the basis of freedom, which includes the freedom to marry whomever you damn well please.

Besides, it's not like HE'S ever going to have one, so why bother preventing other people from marrying people with similar sex chromosomes?? Doesn't really affect him, so why is HE getting all up in arms about it? Or anyone ELSE, for that matter?!

Some more of his latest acts of idiocy:
"In a nod to polling data that suggest Americans strongly support embryonic stem cell research, Bush sought to focus the debate on theoretical pitfalls should such science be perfected."

Mayyyybe it's just me, but the experiments have to have f-u-n-d-i-n-g in order to merely take place if they're ever gonna be perfected.

If you've got a problem with stem cell research, consider how you would feel if it might be the one treatment/practise/experiment that could save both your grandfather and his mind. Then watch your commander-in-chief shoot it down year after year. That's all I care to say on the matter. I'm not even going to employ science on this one.

"He thanked the 11,077 'messengers' who made the trek to Nashville this year for defending 'the values that carry a moral society....'"

Okay, this is relatively minor, I suppose, but if applied across the board could translate into a very frightening outcome. He's applying morals as defined by one religion's mythology. This just in: Not everybody practises said religion. Not everybody buys into the morals as set forth in his particular holy book. Not everybody agrees with practises espoused by holy book. Some think holy book is so diluted as to be practically worthless. To use one's religion to govern betrays all those with differing religious views and violates the whole separation of church and state, particularly if the church becomes the state. [Note: Not a stab at Christianity. This is very important for my continued survival.]

Even his own party members are challenging such acts in Congress. That's gotta say something.

I'm pissed off. I need chocolate. Flame me and prepare for a scathing return volley. You have been warned.

Well, I'm leaving in anywhere from 2 seconds to 45 minutes from now.

See you sexy beasts in three weeks. Don't have too much fun without me. ;)

Holla!

Oh dear.... The last three weeks of Governor's School will be interesting.... *Grins*

And I thought I'd never be grateful for Murfreesboro. Baby, go to Martin and you will realise what a cultural Mecca my hometown is. It [Martin] is smaller than Murfreesboro was when my mom moved here -- nineteen years ago.

And is it just me, or is our keyboard jacked up?? I think it's just me....

I have The Killers' CD. Mr. Brightside is stuck in my head. Mum promised to take me to Starbucks before leaving again. Going to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith with supercool people tomorrow. Life is good. :)