Just Call Me Myrtle, Because I Am About To Moan...

Clever title, right? I'm full of hilariosity.  Honestly, I don't know how I live with myself.

But today isn't going to be all sunshine and roses and me being hilarious and bringing humor into your lives like a humor-bringing thing.
No. Today I'm going to moan.
If you don't like moaning, the exit is, quite literally, the X at the right or left of your screen, depending on the brand of computer you have.

Ready? Are they gone?

....

Good. If they are gone, I don't love them nearly as much as I love you all.  Honestly. I love you all much more than them.  Muchos kisses mi smallus amigos. (And I say that I'm in Spanish 3. What a laugh and a half.)

So let me tell you my story.

I have this issue where I was all high and mighty and didn't like anyone 'like that' for I want to say four years, which coming from a teenage girl, is like saying I've been a virgin lesbian monk for 79 years and that I have a beard and a moustache and I live in a cave in the Himalayas.

....

Obviously none of that is true, besides the bit about me not liking anyone for four years. But that is what I'm trying to get at. I haven't liked anyone for four years, which is nuts. My friends liked guys and fell out of like with guys and I was like their proverbial rock in the storm. They clung to my apparent freakish non-normal self because I had a clear head. That is clearly a lie, but I apparently offered the best advice on relationships, which is hilarious and ironic because I've never been in one. A relationship that is. Saying that I was going out with a guy for fifteen minutes in the sixth grade doesn't count.

Anyfloozle, this year I met a guy. Shocking beginning to the tale, I know. Like I said, I'm not a lesbian monk. But I met a guy. And he is really, really cool. And I guess it is a good thing he doesn't know that I have a blog, because then he would find this and he would know it was about him. And he would get a big inflated head and that is the last thing that I would want to happen. It's already inflated enough. But that's one of the reasons I like him, odd as that may sound.

I met him talking at a marching band parade. The first conversation we ever had we talked about how me and my friend Elliese have penis envy and we want to have one for one day only for the sole purpose of writing our names in the snow. This, ladies and germs, is what me and my friends think about. But he was funny. And we got to talking more. And, the blossom of LUUUURRRVVVE began to grow.

But then, the pruning sheers of horrible comments appeared. He said that he was like my brother. And I was all 'Suuuurrrreee!' and I said it with that horrible fake smile that feels like it has been plastered onto your face.

Then the flirting started. And there was a lot of it. I knew he was flirting with a lot of other girls, but me being vair vair pathetico, I thought I was different. So I kind of told him that I liked him. And then things left the Valley of the Casually Okay and entered the Mountains of the Majestically Awkward. We didn't talk for about a week and a half. Which, for those of you who don't know, is about seven years in teenage girl time.

So I wrote him a note like the romance novel heroine that I am and now we're friends again. But he's trying not to flirt with people anymore. Which sucks because I love hugging people. (I love hugging people. I love hugs. I will literally hug anyone. I don't care if I haven't known you that long, I will hug you.) And in trying not to flirt with people he's moaning to me about it.

And now I'm moaning to you. It's like the big circle of MOAN.

Or a pyramid of moan, since you can't moan to him about me moaning about him. Or if you can, please don't!

....

Wait, I didn't tell you his name, and as far as I know, none of you know him, so I'm in the free and clear!

Woopdedoo and PANTS!

Okay, moaning/storytime over. I just used all of you like a diary.  Keep these secrets I have told you until you are cold and in the grave. And like Andrew Marvill said, you can't date in the grave. Or, well, Marvill didn't say that. He implied it though. I had my English midterm today - can you tell?

I feel like I've wittered on enough, like a wittering thing meant to witter away.  I'll let you get back to your lives. They are probably much more interesting than mine.

Parting joke:

Two chemists walk into a bar. The first guy says to the bartender "Hey, I'll have some H2O!" The second guy goes "That sounds good. I'll have some H2O2."
The second guy died.

Love and kisses,
Jen

A Realization In The Shower

And no, that wasn't a ploy to get you all to think of my washing my hair, but you are all now thinking of that, aren't you?  I am a diabolical mastermind.

Anyway, as I was realizing that one of my second toes is longer than my big toe, but the other one isn't, I had a realization.

Most of the people on YouTube are all Liberal Arts majors that have happened or are waiting to happen.  The makes me fear greatly for my job in the future, because I am in now way, shape, or form, as talented as them.

This makes me feel kind of insignificant.

Oh, the existential thoughts I think in the tub at 6:00 in the morning.

God, I hate talented people.

Ah, well, Tararara!

Love and kisses,

L.

Keep Calm, It's Going To Be Totally Awesome

If you see the quote "Alas, ...", what is your automatic response to it?

Choose.

A.) I failed.
B.) Earwax.
C.) Peanut Brittle.
D.) It's over.

If you chose A or D, you have no imagination whatsoever.
If you chose C, I want whatever your on.
If you chose B, you are my best friend ever. (Or Isabel T., which is basically the same thing.)



For those of you who are awesome, you probably guessed what this post was going to be about from the title, which is a quote from A Very Potter Musical, which I've mentioned a lot on this blog. So, if you can deduce it, if you've been taking your smart pills, you could probably guess that this is going to be a very long, very involved, possibly tear-jerking post about HOW MUCH I FREAKING LOVE HARRY POTTER.

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system, a warning: If you do not like Harry Potter, leave now. Leave right now and never come back. (Not really; please come back! I'll still love you if you don't like Harry Potter. Though probably a little less than I did before.)

You've been warned.

I am going to start this off with a huge I AM A GIGANTIC, HUMONGOUS, FANTASTICALLY AWESOME NERD. And I am specifically a nerd for Harry Potter. I wasn't even born when the series first came into fruition. I was born later, which kind of is bizarre to me. My whole entire life, my whole life I've had Harry Potter in it. There hasn't been a period in my life when Harry Potter didn't exist. That is mad. And by mad I mean crazy. See? I think that Harry Potter was the first thing that introduced me to Britain and its awesomeness. And I've never stopped loving it. I use British terms all of the time, thanks to Potter. It began my fascination. Seriously.

Secondly, I'm not one of those obnoxious people who think about Harry Potter 24/7. I know my limits. I seriously could link it to everything and anything in my life, but I don't. I have friends who do that, and frankly I find it annoying. I love these books, and seriously wish that I was J.K. Rowling, but I have standards. I haven't read the series in full in about a year and a half. Not ony do I not have the time, I just have other stuff to read. But that's the great thing. I can go and read other books, and still have time to say, 'You know what, it's time to read Harry Potter again.' And I just do. It's like going home. As sad and patheic it is to say that.

Thirdly, it is time for the awkward confession of the day. I used to pretend I was a character in Harry Potter (Sorry Is!). Like intensely. And until I was about 12. Seriously. Don't mock.

Fourthly, I love everything to do with Potterlore. A Very Potter Musical and Wrock music anyone? I have friends who are Potter purists, and they only like the books and I'm like WHY? Why wouldn't you want to immerse yourself in this honest-to-goodness subculture? This is probably the only place that I feel comfortable pigeonholing myself into. I am a Potter Nerd. This is final.

Fifthly, it is Thursday night, I have work tomorrow, I'm listening to Wrock music and as soon as I finish this post I'm rereading the 7th book. And then tomorrow I'm going to see the Final Harry Potter Movie dressed up as Draco Malfoy. I'm really nice now, you guys. It is going to be totally awesome.

Sixthly, I just love these books. The characters, literally, are my best friends. I feel closer to Harry, Ron, and Hermione than I do to some of my honest-to-hopkirk friends. Like, flesh and blood friends. I'm closer to fictional characters than to real people. If that isn't devotion I don't know what is.

Seventhly, I just love these books. They were the perfect escape as a kid, when I was weird and didn't have many friends. I found friends in Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I found a home at Hogwarts. I found myself in those books. And no matter what, I will always be waiting for my letter...

So yeah, I really love Harry Potter. I kind of banged this post out, and when I go see the movie tomorrow, Red Vines in tow, I will totally write a review.

GET PUMPED UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I KNOW I AMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!

And in the words of the immortal Albus Wolfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, here is my ideas on the whole series.

"Well of course this was happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

And with that I bid you adieu; I have some book to read.

Big sopping kisses to all,

*MWA.