Sunday, January 23, 2011

Sunday is Khaki Day.

        Khaki: the neutralist of all the neutrals; to me, khaki says, "Hey, I have no real opinions on anything! I'm basically Miss America, but too fat."
        Khaki is the girl in my English class that thinks Global Warming is a myth, because Glenn Beck told her so. Khaki is white bread with no butter. Khaki can't tell you her opinion about the economy, but she will tell you about how she loves Apple Pie, and America, for that matter. Khaki isn't even a color, it's a lifestyle.

Today, I am Khaki, because I'm a Girl Scout, and it's part of the uniform.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

A Unicorn Story.

            Once upon a time there was a Unicorn named Neilse who lived in Sweden, where (as I'm sure you all know) all Unicorns come from. His golden mane danced in the wind, and all of the lady Unicorns wanted to have his foals, but Neilse was not interested in making foals with these lovely lady Unicorns, because the sordid truth was that Neise did, and always had, wanted to be a human.
            I think it's about time to let you in on a little secret: there are no humans from Sweden. Any Swedish person you may have met in your life is really an exilled Unicorn wearing a shameful human suit. The issue is, these suits aren't meant to be permanent, they're meant to give their fellow Unicorns a scare by showing them how beastly and mundane life as a human is, but some Unicorns find that they actually enjoy being human.
           For most of his young life, Neilse controlled his urges to live with the barbarian humans, satiating himself with banned sit-coms and magazines. This, however, could not keep into his adult years, after he finished school and most of his friends had already settled down with a nice mare and started making foals. Once he heard the whispers around him, he knew he had to act fast; he quickly married a beautiful, and inordinately stpuid mare, but still held off on making foals.
           A few months into their marrige, Neilse begain to lose control; his wife had begun to wonder why an upstanding stallion such as Neilse would want to hold off on having foals for so long. His troubles finally came to a pinnicle when she found his human magazines, and he was forced to explain his facination with humans. Needless to say, she was horrified and disgusted; she went back to live with her parents, and Neilse was left to bear the scandal alone.
          After many months of isolation, Neilse began to lose hair in odd places, within a week his whole underbelly was bald. Another week, and his whole body was nearly bald, save the top of his head, some near his muzzle, and a few other choice places. His bristly skin became smooth and blotchy; he also found that he was losing weight rapidly, and his forelegs were shortening. After a month of agonizing transformation, Neilse was human.
         Under cover of night, Neilse slipped out of his house, and travelled several nights thereafter before finally reaching Norway, where he slowly worked up enough money for a plane ticket to California. He earned a decent wage in California, working for Ikea, married an American human named Mary-Sue and fathered a few children. By the time he reached old age, he had saved a considerable amount of money, and planned a journey around the world with his wife.
           Alas, when the time came, his wife became too weak to make the voyage, but she insisted that Neilse  should make the trip alone. Initially Neilse refused, but after many arguements, he found himself on a plane to Switzerland. Upon landing, Neilse boarded a train to Bern, Switzerland, which (as I'm sure my well-travelled readers know) is famous for bears, who, upon smelling the reminants of a Unicorn (their favorite snack) promptly devoured him upon his arrival.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

The Breif and Exciting Adventures of Chloe and Johnathan (Edit: Chloe is an awful person)

            The other day (two Thursdays ago, to be specific) my good buddy Johnathan and I went for a hike up in Cucamonga Canyon. As you may remember (assuming you all live in Southern California, and do not have amnesia) the week preceeding our adventure was quite dreary, but I woke up that morning with high hopes.
           So I got up at 7-something on Thursday, got dressed, ate some breakfast, and waited for Johnathan to treck the mighty 200 feet or so to my front door.

I was supposed to write a story about the awesome adventure my buddy Johnathan and I had a couple weeks ago, but I'm a terrible person and only wrote like three sentences before quitting. Basically, we went up into Cucamonga Canyon for a nice hike, but the river was super deep and wide from all the excess rain, so we didn't get very far in, and we (re: Johnathan) spent a good portion of the day building a bridge across the water, with the eventual help of a couple young men filming a "documentary" and a friendly asian family.
        Had I actually written the story, it probably would've had some nice imagery, and at least seven synonyms for "majestic"; so maybe it's a good thing it never really happened. On the down side, I have probably lost any credibility I had, which is a pretty terrible thing to lose if you think about it (I suppose that's why I included the chunk at the beginning, to show that my intentions were good, I just wasn't very interested). So Johnathan, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. But (to rebuild my credibility) I'll write you a story about a unicorn. Well, I can't guarantee it will be about a unicorn, but there will at least be a unicorn in it.

Love Chloe :)

What's with all these Debbie Downers? ( This is not about Jamie)

So I'm not exactly the school-spirit type, but there's been a plethora of people (three cheers for* alliteration!) complaining about our school's Kingsball (aka Sadie Hawkins) dance. Yeah, I think it's a little over-rated to stress for weeks about who you're going to ask, but you have to give these girls credit for the creativity they put in to asking people! And just because you don't want to ask anyone (for whatever reason) doesn't mean you have to "hate on" everyone else. And not everyone with a date to Kingsball was cute about it either; personally, I was just like "Hey, want to go to kingsball?" and he said "sure"".  Plain and simple. So please, if you hate it that much, don't go. It's really that easy.

*Yeah, I'm bringing it back. Deal.

Friday, January 7, 2011

I am woman: Hear me complain!

Well, this post was going to be about how I don't really enjoy hanging around girls because all they do is complain (about boys, their body, their hair, school, blah, blah, blah), then I realized how ironic me complaining about their complaining would be. So I'm just going to title this "I am woman: Hear me complain!" as a spin off of something Ingrid says in White Oleander. Because I enjoy that book.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

How to optimize bed war, and other unpublished works.

Rather than doing something productive in my free time, I half-start new posts that never make it to the good graces of publishment. I would love to finish them, but some are irrelevant now, and most I simply can't remember the point of. My favorites are:
  • "I have awful things"
  • "It's a bird! It's a plane! It's... the flu shot"
  • "What to do in an encounter with a Muccubus"*
  • "How to optimize bed war" **
But my all-time favorite was titled, "Ode to the final days of break". Obviously it's irrelevant now, but I just can't get over the first sentence, "Okay, so this isn't an ode, it's more like an eulogy written by an extremely intoxicated porcupine for its dear old grandfather who has yet to die." Rest in peace, dear unpublished posts....

*male version of a succubus
**I REALLY wish I could remember where I was going with this one...

Top 5 reasons why I love my dog

1. Her growl sounds like a lion, which is useful for scaring off hungry wild animals (except bears; a hungry bear is unstoppable).
2. She is part dingo, which is also useful for scaring off animals, but mostly hikers.
3. She is unbearably soft
4. She can store an uncanny amount of dirt in her fur
5. She is not a bear.