20:16 - 2003-12-21
Season's Beatings
Productivity is sweet like rosen used on double basses.
From what Little Doodoo tells me anyway.
But she has had the rosen and I have had the productivity. I went to the wretched mall the other day with Mom--
I don't remember, have I talked about my mom's gall bladder? I don't think I have. Well, my mother's stomach has been rebelling almost as blatantly as mine these past few months, and she went to the doctor-man and the doctor-man declared to all that she would need to have a small, and particularly unfriendly organ removed because it was full of rocks.
I just can't help but wonder who puts the stones into people's kidneys and gall bladders. Maybe it's the Stone Fairy or something? Reminds me of an episode of Cow and Chicken, but perhaps if there's a fairy who takes teeth, there's also one who gently places stones in eager little bladders and kidneys everywhere.
So these doctors went in a lil' while ago to dig these stones out of the gall bladder, like some kind of miniature, un-intercourse-related abortion. Seriously, it's barbaric! Taking an unborn stone from its parents womb! Do people know this is going on? TELL THE PEOPLE! Or at least let the poor woman KEEP her gall bladder! Sheesh, she and her organs have been together for quite some time now, Doc, she might like to at least have them close by.
There should be a law against that. Taking peoples organs. That's stealing. Yeah, she paid you (which was a rip-off in the first place), and yeah, it was extremely painful inside her body, but these are still my mother's organs we're talking about. We don't mind you running a test or two, but what do you need these organs for? Do you just shelf 'em, or melt them down and put them in lava lamps, or what?
The point here, if there is one, is she had her gall-bladder taken out.
Since it was the last day of exams, Jenny, Brandon, Chantelle, Greg, and I decided to go to this little pizza joint in the creepy, dillapidated region where we go to school. We walked over there, and got the pizza (but not before this lady warned us that we coldn't just "hang" around, I guess she thought we looked a little shifty) and we talked about the mental assistance facilities Brandon and Jenny have been to in the past, about how everyone in the restueraunt was Italian (I said it a bit loud and worried that I would soon get shot) and about the putrid reek this one customer was giving off. After the reeking started, we decided to leave, but I did get shot at, and that was kind of exciting.
Then we walked in Hideous Mob Form toward the parking lot where my disgruntled mother was located, along with her side-kick (that's a literal term), my socially-inept, cranky grandmother.
The two of them tried to run us over because I had apparently neglected to mention the fact that I was going to ingest triangluar lard-units with my aesthetically-objectionable flock of friends.
That was another mistake on my part, one of the more noticeable. And lots of bonus mistakes have been popping up lately before and since then, which alarm me in some ways, but anyway:
After I dodged a few murder attempts from my mom, and apologized fervently, we went to Mardel, this Christian store, where, ironically, I found this very amusing puppet made in the image of Satan, and looking a little sauced, to tell the truth.
The puppet brought me hours of joy, even though I didn't buy it, but I continued to laugh about it as I got into the car and drove with my mom to the mall.
And while I was at the mall, not only did I violently bump into quite possibly my coolest friend, but my mom let us wander around together as I got ahead on my shopping. This is very good. I only have to buy two more gifts, and those poor shmucks read this thing, so I have to make sure they never find out the seeeecret.
I and a few other people who don't even know it yet, owe Death an ear-shatteringly loud "THANK YOU" due to his invaluable help with my gift-acquiring work this year. So to those of you who do get gifts from Death, be eternally cursed with gratitude to him.
Merry Kerstmas by the way! The time of year when one begins to realize just how undesirable one's family really is.
But also a good time for TV movie premieres and moderate excuses for reading The Christmas Carol, and watching a bunch of movies themed after it.
There's one where Scrooge is played by this sad man whose vocal-cords are obviously encrusted in fish-tank gravel. I'm sure he smokes in real life, I think he was smoking a little in the movie, but it just wasn't very nice listening to Scrooge grate on and on like a broken can-opener that's trying noisely to open a can of Jimbo's Dehydrated Rocks. I hope you get the picture that it was the most errosive racket that human ears can withstand.
Honestly Christmas isn't very exciting to me this year. I'm never that choked up about getting gifts purely as a mode of tradition (and that's what most of it is), my family is wonderful, but they cause bad memories sometimes, and it's literally about 60 degrees where I am.
I wouldn't be surprised if it was really sometime in August and the government was just tampering with our minds so that they could cram some more school into the year. If the Fridays weren't freaky enough to make me suspicious, this really tops it off.
But admittedly, it is Jesus' birthday, and that's worth some effort and an optamistic mood, at the very least.
The title of this entry is, as you may have noticed, "Season's Beatings".
It amazes you, my clever word-play, no?
Well, there's more here than witty holiday violence, guys:
The term "wasselling", as I understand it, was once actually used to describe a gang-oriented activity of brick-hurling and unprovoked assault back in the ghettos of London.
It wasn't an alcoholic beverage, typically served hot.
Go see Return of the King. We all want you to, give in, go see it.
I'm not saying it was the best movie of all time, it prolly wasn't, but it was impressive here and there, and even the hopelessly elderly in your family should be able to understand that now the good guys are WINNING and that now the short dude is getting BEAT UP, you know, the basic stuff.
A lot of fan service in this one. Not as much as some people would want, but if you did it that way, the movie would suck royale. I'll just say Legolas gets another moment in the sun, and that you get to see Elijah Wood without a shirt, if you delight in those things. Personally, I wasn't squirming and giggling about any of it, but the Legolas scene is kinda cool. Kinda. It's cooler when the elephant gets swamped over and eaten by ghosts.
See if you can best me, I went the whole time and didn't have to pee! Even though I drank this huge tub of Ice Sucky. Perhaps I managed this because most of the water was leaving my body through my eyes. That's not necissarily a bad thing, I'm pretty easily moved, when I allow myself to be, so I don't usually need an excuse to cry.
I went to church today, bumming a ride from Cody again, of course. Bumming rides is an odd thing for me. It's certainly not a discomfort, I enjoy riding around with friends, and Cody has all but encouraged me like an airline service to "hitchhike" with him. I suppose I'm letting past experiences govern the present maybe, or maybe I'm just being too stuffy and polite.
Manners are good, but frankly, I wonder if sometimes they are just plain annoying. I need to be more rude and assertive and quit worrying who I inconvenience.
Yeah right.
But I did go to church, and we came back and Cody went with us to Chili's, and then I came home and subsequently threw up. Not because of what I had eaten or of my health, but because I had to unclog a toilet that some idiot had used and walked away from the night before. That idiot could've been, and probably was me, which would techinically and ironically give way to plenty of suspicions toward my being bulimic. And that's pretty darned funny, if you ask me.
Then I caught a moth, and put it in a jar so my cat and I could watch it. I'm keeping it near the candle in my room. Moths are fascinating creatures no matter how you look at them, as long as you can look at them, so that's what I will do tonight.
The moth's name is Dust, and he and Raymi are quite the pair of flashy friends. I filmed this, and it was quite a giddy rush, along with my sister's chomping, drooling mouth as she ate her dinner.
Titanic is over now, which means I can go watch Adult Swim. See you in the future!
