But Darling...

...I'd still catch a grenaaaade for yuhhhhhhhhh!

I'd throw my hand on a blaaaaade for yuhhhhhhh!
I'd jump in front of a traiiiiiiin for yuhhhhhhhh!

You know I'd do anythiiiiing for yuhhhhhhhh!

I've fallen head over heels for this song and smile maniacally whenever it comes on the radio.  For whatever reason, hearing a song on the radio brings me more joy than it does on my iPod.  Because if it's on the radio, it's a special treat and stays my favorite song for a longer period of time; on the other hand, if I get a song I like on my iPod, I brutally stab the "play" button for an hour after downloading it, and then I move on to a new favorite song.

And just in case you were wondering, I haven't abandoned you.  My computer died and I was tragically  Internet-less for a whole four days.  This was last weekend.  We borrowed a relative's laptop for "homework" purposes for the past couple of days.  I could've chosen to write a blog post on the laptop, but I really hate typing on laptops because my wrists arch all weirdly and it's just an uncomfortable experience.  But now our good old (and I mean old) Dell is back from the shop and in its former working condition.           However, I do miss the track pad on the laptop, because it seems like so much work to move my hand from the keyboard to the mouse now.  The point of this... I'm back, and maybe will post more soon.  Probably not because of history and ELA projects due this week, and Christmas around the corner, but it never hurts to hope.

Ta ta!

Sarah

Great Big Sigh of Sadness

To my utter despair, today was the last day ever of Computer Class.  (Now say it again, but use so much sarcasm that you spit a little.  Especially in despair.)   We did four projects total, including-

1. A video with pictures from Google that has the pictures change with the beat of the song.  Unless you have no musical gift whatsoever, and you just change the pictures whenever you feel like it.  For those of you that did that, be ashamed.
2. A spreadsheet.  YAWN.
3. A Stop-Action video project.  My group video came out okay, but not good enough for me to want to keep it.  We used pipecleaners.  I supplied them, because I'm so willing to give.
4. And lastly, a stupid 3-D model of our stupid houses, on some stupid program that is stupid.  Mine was awful and the similarity between my house and the digital one was about 30%.  I bet I got a D on that project.

So the only one I wanted to keep was the video with pictures.  We could do it on any topic we chose (I chose something I love more than my right hand) and had to have around 100 pictures.  Not to brag or anything, but... I had 183 pictures.  Overachievers, UNITE!  For your viewing pleasure, please enjoy the following work of art entitled "Sarah's Breakfast Food(s)".  (I couldn't remember if there was an "s" or not.

When I showed it to my family, the timing was off, and I was all ticked and up in the computer's grill going "So this is how it's gonna be?  THIS. IS HOW.  IT'S GONNA BE?!?!?!"  (I figure it counts because I said it in my head, if not aloud.)  So if the timing appears to be off, it's because it is.  But I still wanted to show it because the pictures are amazing and appetizing.  What's awful is I worked on this for 2 weeks, and had to wait a whole class after Computers until I could eat lunch.  I hope you understand how much I suffered to give you this work of art.  You're welcome.

COME VISIT THE SCHOOL STORE DURING LUNCH!  AND BRING MONEY, BECAUSE I WILL HAVE SORRELL BITE YOU IF YOU DON'T BUY OUR STUFF!

Love and hugs,

Sarah
P.S.  BTW, I know it ends really abruptly.  I didn't have time to fix that and now have to live the rest of my life knowing that something I created is imperfect.  Oh, woe is me!

Thanksgiving: A Brief Overview

Ten Things I Am Really Thankful For

1. my family
2. teachers
3. soldiers
4. my parent's jobs
5. my friends 
6. muffins
7. pants
8. my house
9. internet
10. chairs that spin

That was a legit list that I made in school yesterday.  Except I didn't put down "friends".  My friends brought that up after I had already written the final copy in marker and I told them that they are ranked so high that there isn't a spot prestigious enough on that list for them.  (I really just forgot about them.  I think they knew that.)  I forget what I put on the list instead of them though, so they'll have to do.

Me, Aunt Tina, my cousin Teighan who is rubbing a spitty car on his face, and that other kid.  (Look at how tall I look!  And I'm not even wearing shoes!)  This is about an hour after ingesting disgustingly large amounts of food, 80% of which was bread.  I swear, I ate half a loaf of scali.

 

I'm also grateful that I went to SYTYCD Live in Manchester a couple of weeks ago and met the top 6 and some of the All*Stars in person.  I never posted about it because the pictures were on Julia's camera, and I was too lazy to figure out how to get them on the computer.  This happened during the end of September, so you can see how technologically incompetent I really am.  I am super grateful that my mom went with me and was even willing to wait for an hour after the show ended in the back parking lot with me and my SYTYCD crazed dance friends for autographs from the contestants and stars.  I sat next to my friend Jess who is Robert's future wife.  Maybe Kent and I will get a house near theirs.  :-D  (Is "theirs" a word?  It looks weird.) When the screen was rolling up at the very beginning of the show, and you could see the dancers' feet marching, then their knees, then their hips, theirs stomachs... and I couldn't see after that because I was crying so violently.  I'm pretty sure it was shock from being in the presence of such amazing people, but it could've been Jess screaming for Robert that induced my never ending flow of tears.  I have a picture of it on the computer, but it's so horrifying that if I put it here, I would probably have to live in the middle of nowhere, maybe Nebraska, for the rest of my life living on grass and jar of applesauce.  Let's see if I can just describe it to you.

• The background- an abyss of dirty-looking dark brown.

• In the foreground- my face (taking up about half of the picture) in a disturbing shade of red, and my eyes so squinty they're slits, (yet slits that are big enough to be able to release tears from).  My mouth is huge, screaming incomprehensible screams.  

• Peaking out from around my  mungo head is quaint little Jess, who although is clearly in shock, doesn't look like she's about to spontaneously combust. 

The dances were amazing, and some of them that I had forgotten about were even better in person.  My favorite one, "My Chick Bad" was even more impressive in person, even though Twitch wasn't there, and his role was played by Dominic.  The best part was the end, when Sophie, Jess, Ashley, Zoey, me, and our various parents waited out back with the rest of the stalkerazzi and got our pictures taken with them!  Which brings me to the last thing I am extremely grateful for...

I am grateful that Kent Boyd touched my shoulder.  MY SHOULDER.  With the same hand that was on t.v.  And see that glimmer in my eye?  (Pretend you do.)  That's a tear.  Of unadulterated joy.  And bad lighting.  Not only did I push the others aside to get to be the one to stand next to Kent, I am also possibly the only girl in America to ask Kent to sign her shoe.  My friends were so embarassed to be with me.  I loved that.  (Sometimes I act embarassing in public just to humiliate my friends.  Let that be a lesson to you.)  So yeah, I was casually hanging out by the security gate, with  my foot up on the bar, peering around everyone, in severe pain because jeans aren't supposed to be stretched that way, but it was okay, because it was for Kent, and for the humiliation of my friends.  Sadly, he didn't even flinch when I asked him to sign my shoe.  But maybe he'll remember me.  So when I'm president of the U.S., he'll be all "Oh yeah, you're the girl from Manchester whose shoe I signed!"  And I'll be all "Yeah.....  I still have it in a glass case.  I hope you don't think that's creepy."  

No, it's not really in a glass case.  It's in my closet, pushed aside because the fabric part of my high tops was ripped from the rubber part after the last school dance.  You can see my sock when I wear those shoes now.  I'm getting new ones on Sunday!  Woot!  There's nothing better than the smell of new sneakers.  Except maybe Walmart.  

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sarah

I Google and Write

RANDOM PICTURE NUMBER TWO

THE VORTEX OF SWIRLING COLORS:  This picture makes me think something along the lines of "AHHHHH!  MY HEAD!  THESE NEON COLORS ARE GIVING ME A MIGRAINE THE SIZE OF AUSTRALIA!"  And it's hard to disagree with me, no?  Because what earthly being who has the misfortune to gaze upon this mistakus ofus colorus doesn't immediately think "It's like being stoned to death, except they use bright colors instead of stones, and instead of dying, I'm about to throw up, most likely on this rainbow."  Don't tell me you didn't think that.  I thought we agreed not to lie to each other.

RANDOM PICTURE NUMBER THREE

THE "HAHA, I HAVE YOUR STUFFED CAT YOU LOSER!" AD: Something similar occurred to me in sixth grade.  Catherine and I were at the bus stop one winter morning, and there was snow everywhere.The large collection of snow at the corner of the street where we wait was disgusting; splattered with dirt, Dunkin' Donuts cups, and a present from Fido.  But there was something special about this mound of snow.  WE R WHO WE R  It came in the form of a soggy stuffed bunny, carelessly tossed on the pile.  I felt really bad for it, because I have a problem, thinking that all inanimate objects have feelings.  And I'll probably regret putting this on the internet, but whatever.  In my sock drawer, my socks are lined up SINGLE LADIES very neatly, in nice, orderly rows.  And I wear them in the order I put them there, because if I don't, some poor pair of socks will probably get pushed to the back, buried beneath the other junk I keep in that drawer, and will never see the light of day (or my delightful smelling feet) ever again.  And I couldn't bear the guilt that would cause.  Anyways, Catherine and I left the stuffed bunny there for a couple days more, and when the snow had melted enough for us to climb over the snow pile, we placed it in a bush that was relatively snowless and offered it some shelter from the weather.  ONLY GIRL IN THE WORLD When, a few weeks later, the bunny was still sitting in that bush, I finally did what I had known I would do from the minute I saw its forsaken little face on that fateful winter day.  I took it home with me.  My mom, understandably, was disgusted, because who in their right mind would want a used bunny that had been sitting outside for a month?  I did.  I had already developed feelings for this unloved creature, and intended to keep it, no matter the consequences.  So Mom reluctantly gave in, as long as I put it in a plastic bag for a week (to make sure if there were any ticks, they would have died) and washed it in the washing machine afterwards.  I cheerfully obliged and even checked on Hopper every day as he sat in a Target bag next to the washer/dryer.  And when 7 days had passed, I whispered encouraging words to my new friend before dropping him into JUST THE WAY YOU ARE the vat of lukewarm water to ensure our safety from the rabid rabbit plague.  I pulled him out just as the washing machine stopped, so he wouldn't have to be trapped in that metal death cage any longer than he needed to.  That twenty-five minute ride alone could have caused irrepairable damage to his psyche, I reasoned with myself.  After a more fun ride in the dryer, Hopper was finally mine!  I placed him in the place of honor next to Big Bird, Tickle Me Elmo, and Winnie the Pooh in my bedroom, bringing my stuffed animal total up to 53.  A week  later, I had forgotten about him, and the only time I even touched Hopper was to move BULLETPROOF him so I could vacuum the floor beneath his rabbit butt.  I only just donated him to Big Brother Big Sister on Friday, so I can't supply a picture, which bothers me.  I even GoogleImaged "stuffed rabbit" in the hopes of finding a bunny similar to Hopper.  But those pretty Google bunnies are nowhere near as ugly as Hopper was, may he rest in piece(s).  I donated a whole bunch of stuffed animals, actually including my money-wasting Webkinz.  And now I have to go count how many stuffed animals I have left because I really wanna know.  

HOLY GUACAMOLE! 

He's here!  Hopper is still here!  I thought he had gone with all my other meaningless stuffed animals to needy children!  Where is my webcam?!?!?!

 

BTW, I'm down to 17 stuffed animals, four dolls.  PRETTY GIRL ROCK Don't worry, I'm not that mentally unstable.

Loves,

Sarah

This is my natural picture-taking face.

Guilt Post

So I decided to write a post entirely about a triangle of numbers I found on the internet.  I swear on my fish's food pellets that I typed the word "random" into a Google search engine and just clicked on the first picture.  And then the majority of the post goes on about my failure at life and completely disregards the triangle.  So here goes.

THE NIGHTMARE TRIANGLE FROM COMPUTERS:  In computer class at my school, you pick the computer you will be working at for the next consecutive six weeks on the first day of class.  I always forget this fact and end up late by about two minutes, which is about three minutes too many.  Last year I ended up stuck in between Unicorn Girl (see two or three posts down) and the blond kid who doesn't give a monkey's butt about school or anything within a ten mile radius of it.  This year I was late again and although I certainly had limited choices, got to sit next to a girl whom I can talk to without worrying about having her growl at me or offer me drugs.  On Thursday this week, when we walked into Computers, which is Lazy Typer slang for Computer Class, and is by the way my second favorite specialist after art*, we were paired up with the person sitting next to us for a class-long project which will forever bring upon me a feeling of shame and stupidity.  Briana and I were partners, and at first I was all "Yay!  She's an overachiever, just like me!  We're going to ace this bad Larry!"  Ten minutes later I was yelling at myself in my head.  "SHE'S NEVER GOING TO FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS!  SHE THINKS YOU'RE STUPID AND DON'T KNOW HOW TO ADD TWO DIGIT NUMBERS!  SHE'S GOING TO TELL THE PRESS THAT YOU'RE NOT AS SMART AS YOU THINK YOU ARE AND YOU'LL FLUNK OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL AND END UP SERVING GREASY RAT MEAT TO OBESE AMERICANS AND POSSIBLY FOREIGNERS!!!"  (Not that I have anything against Americans or foreigners.  You're all lovely people.)  The goal of our assignment was to add 500 numbers together, using either pencil and paper or calculator.  Half of the groups in the class got paper, half got calculators.  Briana and I had calculators and twenty minutes.  Originally, I didn't understand this assignment AT ALL and was just adding random numbers together for her to write down thinking that the object was to have the most sums at the end of the twenty minutes.  Five minutes later, I heard kids saying "We finished the first column!  Only...  7 MORE TO GO?!?!?!"  And I began to get this awful feeling in my stomach.  It was the first sign of my impending social doom.  Because we WEREN'T supposed to be adding random numbers together to get random sums.  We were supposed to be adding them all TOGETHER to find out what the total of all 500 numbers were.  So I whispered sheepishly to Briana "I think I'm doing this wrong..."  And she gave me a look that told me I was doing it 200% wrong.  So I gave her the calculator and she added up the first column.  Then she generously allowed me to try again.  That was a mistake on her part.  I kept forgetting which numbers I had added last, and had to start over again.  And again.  And again.  Until I just started typing in random numbers, and begged Whoever is up There to give me an answer that wasn't too far off the mark.  I didn't realize the the Guy up There was out fishing at the time and I left the message on his anwering machine.  Because my prayers clearly weren't answered.  The correct total of the 500 numbers was something around 15,400.  On the slip of paper I handed in, I had written 28,000 and hoped for the best.  Needless to say, Briana and I came in last and did not get the six prize lollipops.  My nubby computer teacher made a power point the next day of who came closer to the actual number.  Each slide had two teams, their place in the competition, and whether they were Paper&Pencil or calculators.  The very first slide said 

CALCULATORS:

SARAH AND BRIANA

6TH PLACE

28,000

There was another team on there who was farthest from the correct answer but used Paper&Pencil.  So of course when that slide showed up there were some confused murmurs that went along the lines of "Sarah came in last place?  *pointing in my direction* That one?"  I panicked, clapped my Man Clap, which I use to intimidate others, and yelled "Whooooooo!"  Then, face red from embarassment, I finished the rest of the class in silence.

*SIDE NOTE:  I do not like art because I excel at it.  As a matter of fact, the only reason I didn't fail that class last year is because I was the least horrific of the delinquents in my specialist class.  I was a buoy of excellence in the sea of despair, one might say.  If one choosed to. Chose to.  Whatever.