Happy Friday the thirteenth!

If you have not ever seen a meteor shower in your young/old life, I command you to immediately go watch one the next time one's all meteory. And make sure to bring a half billion of your friends because it definitely would not have been as fun as it was without them.

I officially love my little brother because of what he made me promise before I left. "Erin, promise me that if one of the meteors falls and you catch it, you'll bring it home so that we can make a space sword." How beautiful is that? Coolest little boy ever.

I love Friday the thirteenth. It seems to always be a lucky day for me. I'm waiting for something fabulous to happen. I guess seeing that meteor shower was pretty fabulous, but I need MOAR.

...Several hours later...

DURN IT. Nothing. Ah, well, there's always the next time.

Ten days until Mockingjay comes out. I am super mega epically GEEKED OUT.

Less than a month until school starts. I'm thinking that I'll be blogging every other day during the school week and then both Saturday and Sunday.

Because I am a lazy person and I got only an hour of sleep last night (while on the lumpy ground and mosquitoes were buzzing in my ear) and a few earlier today for a nap, I am not going to blog any more. I may or may not have a long post tomorrow because some relative-y type people are in town and we are hanging with them.

I will end with this lovely picture that my wife (she's not my ex-wife anymore!) linked me to.

Ex-wuffles has ordered that I blog about dead gay dudes, so I shall.

Let's see. So ex-wuffles was talking to me the other day about like, this dead gay guy who had a house made out of glass. Apparently his name is Phillip Johnson. And he like, had this gay lover who lived near him. Y'know, I don't think having a gay lover and living in a glass house works very well. According to ex-wuffles, his gay lover, David Whitney was pretty epic too. I don't know much about him, though.

Oscar Wilde. I know he was a writer or a poet or something. I'm waiting for ex-wuffles to tell me random facts about him that I know she knows. I know that someone at my school started a painting of him in the same stairway as my forum leader's room. So ex-wuffles says that he wrote books and plays. And that he was super witty and stuff. And apparently he was a big guy, so when people harrassed him for being gay, he could beat the forking heck out of them. He apparently had a boyfriend named Bosie whose real name was Alfred. And Bosie was a big jerk and spent all his money on hookers, but he totally had a huge thing for him, so he ignored it or something. He also had a wife and two kids.

Frank O'Hara died young. At like, forty when he got hit by a car. And he went to the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) He wrote a lot of poetry. Including one that ex-wuffles and I stumbled upon during intro to lit. Here's my favorite part of the poem. It's called Steps.

'the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much'

How fab is that? I think it has much meaning that I don't know about.

Another one of his poems has the following...

'That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.'
and
'You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.'

That's all for dead gay guys tonight. I want to play a little of WoW and get to bed. I have to get up early. Eleven. D:

A Haiku is a somewhat annoying form of poetry.

Haiku can be fun
when you're writing paragraphs
for your science class.

But they're not really
paragraphs anymore if
they're really haiku.

My ex-wife, Libby
once did a blog post using
only haiku. Hi.

That last haiku was
a super mega fail at
syllable-ness-ness.

It's been a while
since I wrote haiku. I hope
I don't mess up much.

I like waffles. They
are amazingly delish.
Who has a waffle?

I want it to be
August forever because
of a calendar

that I have that is
Harry Potter themed. August
is Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy is
played by Tom Felton. He's a
an eight on a scale

of one (an ugly)
to Bill Kaulitz. And Bill is
super prettyful.


I mean, look at that
picture above. He's gorgeous.
His hair really is.

I'm writing a play
as many of you know. It
is really fab. Yeah.

My thumb hurts. I don't
remember when I hurt it,
but now it's bruised. Yeah.

The ugly carpet
in my basement is now gone.
Mostly. It was all

moldy and gross and
smelly, so my mom ripped it
out. I had to touch

it because my mom
is mean and ew I touched mold.
It was so nasty.

Mockingjay comes out
in twenty days as of right
when I'm writing this.

I'm just rambling,
so I think I will stop now,
end your misery.

Post of random stuff because my brain can't concentrate on one thing at a time.

I'm pretty sure I haven't touched on how much I hate high school sports on this blog. Let me start out by saying the following:

I hate high school sport teams.

I was reminded of this tonight when I played soccer with two really good friends... and then some people who were on my soccer team for school. We exchanged a 'Hi.' and 'I like your new haircut.' and 'Nice pass.' but that was it. And these were what I considered the nicer of my old team. Just a warning, prepare for angst.

I've decided that I'm never playing sports for a school ever again. Mostly because your play time and acceptance is based on your popularity. I mean, when in high school isn't it? Except for my school. I'd like to think that my school is past all the popularity crap and everything. I think we are. But since I go to a school where there are no sports, my friend guilt-tripped me into trying out for soccer at her school. I mean, just to try out I had to pay thirty dollars. And when I realized that I hated it, I couldn't really back out because I had to pay another hundred and fifty.

That season, we had something like twenty games. That's a lot for a month and a half time period. Especially if you want to be able to practice and do homework and have a freaking life. (Hey, look. It's a picture of Bill Kaulitz. Because he's amazingly gorgeous. Did you know that he is the definition of androgynous and ambiguous? And he is the love of men.)

Maybe I'll just stop talking about how much I hate stuff and start talking about how BEAUTIFUL Bill Kaulitz is. In the past fifteen minutes I have been chatting with my ex-wifey about how beautiful he is and how we want to cry because he's prettier than most chicks. Gah. Why does he get to be soooooooooooo pretty? It's sooo unfair.

Why do I keep stopping typing to look at pictures of him? It's so depressing.

Now I've totally lost my train of thought and I'm not in the mood to rant about sports. What to type about?

Have you ever randomly nail polished your skin in cool patterns? Or random objects sitting near you? I always end up doing that during the summer. It's all 'OOH! Nail polish! Darn. My nails are already painted. Maybe I'll paint my leg or this conviently placed sticky note or maybe my cell phone.' That's totally my thought process.

Have I ever mentioned that at the beginning of summer when I cleaned my room I organized my book wall? I alphabetized it by title. It's so organized it's not even funny. And it hasn't fallen over yet. Which is amazing.

Augh, it's getting late and I have to get up early and I can't think of anything else to write about at the moment and I'm sleepy and hungry and augh.

Neopets is possibly the most addicting thing in the world.

I've totally been meaning to blog all day. I've promised myself I would try and do it everyday. I've made up a list of three reasons I put it off.

1. I've been sorta kinda not really busy. And by busy I mean sitting in a classroom at ten in the morning listening to this guy drone on and on about passing other cars. And at three I drove a car. Which really shouldn't be happening because I'm not the kind of person who should be operating heavy machinery. You see that picture above? That's what will end up happening if I drive anymore. Oh, and I've also been eating waffles.
2. I'm justifying this procrastination with the knowledge that I blogged late last night (which was the second time that day). So maybe technically based on that, I shouldn't have to do this.
3. And third and the biggest issue. I've been playing neopets. It is one of the single most addicting websites ever created. It's like... getting kids warmed up to spend all of their free time playing World of Warcraft. Which I totally approve of, by the way. I've spent most of my time on a game playing a game called Faerie Cloud Racers. My keyboards hate me. Even if I switch them, it's all AUGH. So I've probably spent a half hour or more saying various pseudocurses under my breath. Have you ever played that game with a keyboard that's all delayed for a second? You. Can't. Win.

So those are my reasons. They're pitiful. I just thought of another reason. Because I've been running around my house, eating waffles and belting out Disney songs. Mostly Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. Y'know, cause it's all many and stuff. I mean. LOOK AT THESE LYRICS—

When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs every morning to help me get large! And now that I'm grown I eat FIVE dozen eggs so I'm roughly the size of a BARRGGGEEE!

Also, Let's Go Fly a Kite and Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious because they get stuck in your head so easily. The best part of today was definitely when my brother and mother began singing along. Though my brother has decided to say 'No one brushes his teeth like GASPATCHO. And I keep trying to correct him, but he's stuck in his little world where he's right.

I think we should go back to the idea of me using heavy machinery. I am a failure. And should not be trusted on the open road to murder innocent villagers. On the other hand, I should be allowed to pillage and rape villages with my viking comrades like we have done before. See that viking hat? How gorgeous is that? I bet that baby rapes and pillages bunches of villages. I bet no one would expect that baby to be an evil viking pillager. But once he puts his hat on, BAM. He's not to be trifled with. I mean, look at that cute blanket. Who doesn't love that?

By the way, vikings are the sexiest things ever. Except viking babies. That's just creepy.

You see these pictures of cars running dogs over and in a tree and in/on a roof? That's what I'm going to end up doing. D: I don't know if it's even possible, but I'll manage. I think everyone should evacuate the roadways whenever I'll be driving. The only reason I haven't run over anyone/anything—WAIT. I did run over a dead raccoon because it was on the side of the road and there were cars halfway in my lane, so I had to move over. Augh. It was horrible.

I'm going to end up not being able to parallel park or back out of driveways without running into things behind me (like my mom) or I'm going to end up running over a family (like my grandmother). I think it might be best if I just stayed off the roads. My family history isn't that great. On the other hand, Gigi (my other grandmother) seems to be a pretty good driver other than honking when we're pulling into the garage. And my dad is... I dunno. He hasn't driven me places very often, and when he has, I don't see anything wrong. At least he hasn't run over a family.

I have a really strong urge right now to tie a orange cloth around my head, draw whisker-type things on my face and run around screaming 'I'M NARUTO. I'M A FREAKING NINJA.' I hope you don't find it weird that I've done that before.

I'M A BLOGGIST!

Golly. This is my first post. I was inspired to start a new blog and continue my sagging dreams of becoming a bloggist? blogger? (I think I'll go with bloggist. It sounds way cooler.) with a bunch of people that read this. I doubt that'll happen, but hey, a girl can dream, right?

I'm sure this blog will be forgotten about in a few weeks or when school starts and I don't have time or anything cool to write about. But here's to keeping my dream alive.

I should probably start off (well, it's a little too late to start off, but whatever) this post with explaining how the forking heck I got the name of this blog. It's quite simple, actually, if you'll just read this next paragraphy thing. They're not really paragraphs, though, since they're not indented. But each pseudo-paragraph is indicated by a fabulous little space inbetween each clunk o' wordies. It might be more than one clunk.

So in my sciencey class, we had to make a map/chart/whatever you want to call it of the layers of the atmosphere. It had to include things that are in each layer. Did you know that airplanes fly in the Stratosphere? That's like... ten kilometers up. And so on our map/chart/whatever you want to call it thing, we decided that we needed something extremely bad-arse to represent a plane. At first we were thinking 'HMM. J.J. THE JETPLANE. HE'S PRETTY SEXOY.' but then we realized that young J.J. the Jetplane was not sexoy at all. We thought harder. Maybe it would be sexoy if he was a teenage jetplane! And rebellious too! So we drew a rebellious teenage jetplane. He had sunglasses and he was purple with green windows (which makes me realize now that we were idiots, since I think he was red).

And that's the story of J.J. the Rebellious Teenage Jetplane. I'm sure I'll be telling it to my grandchildren when I'm old and frail and still (hopefully) blogging on this bloggy and I'm totally famous.

Just to clarify, my name's not anything related to Willy Wonka or Jetplanes. It's Erin.

I think that since this is the first post, I should give a little intro about all my friendies since I call them pretty weird things.

I'll start with my 'family'.

Ex-wifey(or any variation on the word 'wife'), Wuffles, Libby, Mother of my children. If you hear any of those names, I'm talking about Libby. She used to be my wife, but I divorced her a few days ago (and I can't seem to remember why). We got married in Vegas (by the way, I'm so serious about Vegas. Ask any of our children and they're vouch for me) at the end of November of 2009. And our marriage ended so tragically four days ago (if you count me writing this at 2:30 in the freaking morning as the fourth day).

Turnip, Molly, Molly-wobbles, Jew(I promise I'm not racist!), Son. She'll most likely be called Turnip. Sometimes I forget what her real name is. It's a long story about her being named Turnip, so maybe I'll have that in the next post or in the near future. She's the brain-child of ex-wifey, but she's my son as well. SO I SHOULD GET AT LEAST HALF OF HER NOW THAT WE'RE DIVORCED.

Bethy-kun, Bethy, Bethany, Radish, The Other Asian. Bethy-kun is, as you can tell, AN ASIAN. And she's really cute when she's not pissed off. She makes funny noises and is another brain-child of ex-wifey. I WANT HALF OF HER.

The Asian(again, not racist. He doesn't mind being called that.), Nathanael, Daughter. He's the one with three names. It's not our fault, it's just that he was never around when we came up with fabulous names for people. Stupid Asian. Brain-child of my ex-wifey, and she said that I could keep him but he refused and I feel unloved by my children.

The last person is someone who is not part of my family. :D

Ellie!, Nellie, Nellie the Heartless, etc. Ellie is a fab person who is mental and hates trolls like Tara Gilbsie, (I have no idea about her last name) the chick who wrote My Immortal, the infamous Harry Potter fanfic starring Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. She's fab and weird and is in love with Jack Spicer from Xiaolin Showdown, a cartoon.

I don't know what else to write about.

Maybe I should say that I'm NOT crazy, if I do seem like it. I am a paranoid person with a lot of random, irrational fears. My room is the sexiest place ever because it has xmas lights and lighting up Chinese-type lanterns and the coolest posters you will ever see (some of the ninja, face, zombie, Harry Potter, Star Wars, iPod, ravioli, Obama, Gir, and various music people variety.) I think what's on those posters says a lot about me and I don't really need to say any more for you to guess what kind of person I am.

It's 2:44:35 in the freaking morning as I'm writing this and I should be sleeping because I'm being forced against my will (almost a little redundant, don'tcha think? It's needed) to wake up at eight or something (which, by the way is in like, five hours) and swim at a freaking swim meet for a team I'm not even on. Golly. I quit that team so I could stay up late and type and sleep in.

Goodbye my lovely few people who will read this.