I'm a Pre-School Dropout....

Not to be confused with Beauty School Dropout

I'm being dead-serious.  Not only am I a dropout, I was kicked out.  Oh yeah, I was bad-ass.  You know it.   But like all juvenile delinquents: it was the way I was raised.  You know the environment a child is raised in can really effect later behavior and socialization.  And I was raised by wolves.  I had trouble communicating my feelings to the other children.  

I'm being literal.  I was always in the company of my dog, Tucker (who was female, as were Jake and Charlie).  And I was kicked out for growling at the other children.

You read that correctly.  I liked to growl at the other children.

It's not like they didn't deserve it. They weren't furry, or cute, or in any way useful to me.  I had to share the crayons, when clearly they couldn't color as well as me, so why bother?  I mean, only stupid kids color "red squirrels" red.  It's clearly a species name, because I'd never seen a red squirrel.

Plus, they got all up in my personal bubble, usually accompanied with snot or spit bubbles as young kids are apt to do.  OH NO they didn't.  We've already discussed my personal bubble, so I don't feel the need to reiterate.

And as far as I was concerned, it was effective.  I was kicked out of preschool and only entered into another program when my sister was ready to come with me.  Little did my parents know that she's really the instigator, so this was not going to make me more socially acceptable. Puh-lease.

But, the violence didn't stop.  

There was this girl, no names on the blog, who was an entitled little brat, and I knew that before I even knew what "entitled" meant. I mean, she was just a regular buttface, as we were apt to say at that age.  

It was show and tell.  My sister and I are opposites, but at the time we got along very well.  We were both excited for show and tell.  I had brought a toy rubber snake I'd gotten from a Blue Angels show in Rhode Island.  My sister brought a Barbie Doll.

So Ms. Buttface decides to ruin my sisters day.  She stole my sister's show and tell doll, on show and tell day.  Them's fighting actions!!!! (Yes, I know the phrase is "fighting words", if she said anything I don't remember)

But, she had to take it a step further.  Ms. Buttface ripped the head off of the Barbie doll.  Even I know, (and I preferred my dinosaur toys) that when you pop the head off a Barbie doll it doesn't ever go back on right, the joint inside there is broken and there is no good way to connect it.  To save the doll you essentially push the head on so much that the Barbie has a severely shortened neck.  So basically, the doll is ruined.

Now, did we remember my toy? You should, I'm the important one here.  I had a rubber snake.  And Ms. Buttface did not like meeting the snake.  

An appropriate weapon, considering the circumstances.  Mine was this pattern but mostly black and a little green.

To clarify, after the decapitation of the doll, I chased her around flailing the rubber snake until I caught her, at which point I beat her with the rubber snake until she gave me the doll back.  As far as I'm concerned, I was being the good older sibling sticking up for my little sister.  I don't remember my sisters reactions to my action.  She was probably mortified, which just makes her ungrateful.

I still know the girl.  She doesn't remember me as her assailant, and I left it that way.  I still think she's an entitled brat, but unfortunately I've learned that you can go to jail for beating those kinds of girls that way now.  In preschool, it was "cute and funny".  I guess that reasoning doesn't fly anymore.  

I think this is part of what lead me to be the introverted, pessimistic, and generally angry person I've become today.  I have no faith in people.  I have every faith in dogs, they were always the better companions, and their communication is concise and serves to keep most species away.  My target species being humans of course. 

Sometimes, it just seems like rather then swearing and bitching someone out, you just want to growl at them. Oh yeah. I said it.  Too bad that unlike dogs, you can't follow it with a snap or a slap.  

So I'm a little weird, but I'm still bad-ass.  I mean, how many people can say they are a pre-school dropout?

That's what I thought.

A blog about my Sister, and her horror of my blogging.

So my little sister Michelle was trying to write a short story in first person perspective the other day.  She was struggling with it because she wanted it to be sarcastic and funny.  I told her that she shouldn't try so hard and maybe she should write like she's blogging.  She then expressed her horror at the idea of blogging, at the very same moment I sent her the link to mine to show her what I meant.  This resulted in a loud, obnoxious exclamation of my name in a distressed tone  (JeeeeeeEENnnnnnnnnnnnnnnYYYYYY!!!).  Apparently she didn't approve, even though when she was reading she did laugh. Oh Michelle.

(Side Note: I'm pretty sure her story was about being stuck in the Hippie Section of Forever 21, so the weirdness is genetic, it's not just me)

The funny thing with Michelle is she rejects everything first before she allows ANYTHING.  This probably has something to do with how organized she is.  See, Michelle has a time and place for everything.  Everything she does has a process, system, routine, or algorithm.  Even things that are created to be "homemade" have to be perfect.  She is a combination of the perfectionist, the OCD, and the crazy person all rolled into one.  I would like to submit a pictoral explanation of how this could occur (all "scientifical" of course)

This is of course, an easy to understand picture of the normal human brain.

But Michelle isn't, and has never been normal.  I could probably list several embarrassing stories, but I won't.  Moving on...

So, as you can see, Michelle's brain has rewired itself to be more organized and efficient.  It is probably made out of glitter glue, construction paper, ribbon, and assorted sheets of music.  But of course, these components are meshed together in a way that shows that she clearly spent an hour making sure the very first line was straight, and three more counting the pieces of glitter to make sure there was the exact amount she wanted.

She would have her mind in color coded folders in binders with page protectors if it was at all possible, but that surgery was too expensive.

Of course, you may be thinking "how is this at all a bad thing?"

I counter this with, "why do you think they make medication for OCD?"

Not that she is full-blown OCD.  She is a perfectionist.  Again, that's not necessarily a bad thing.  Up until you try to help her with a project and she totally picks your work apart and redoes it.  Or when she spends most of her time playing bassoon, stressing over playing bassoon, practicing bassoon, stressing more over playing bassoon, and then embarking on a mission to craft something that of course, has to be handmade but factory perfect (to DE-stress, of course).

So I've concluded that this is why she rejects everything first. It simply takes too much time for her to redo everyone else's crappy work.  Plus, if it doesn't already have a color-coded box in her head, where is she going to put that information?  After all, how can she approve of something without having a place for it, I mean, it's not like she could expand or adapt or anything.  (insert sarcasm)

Now, I probably sound mean.  I am, a little bit.  But this blog is not to criticize her.  It is to illustrate the uniqueness of her mind.  It's like a National Geographic Special.  Or an Animal Planet show.

...and I'm going to send it to her just to be the annoying sister =]

Statistically Speaking....

Criminal Minds is awesome 100% of the time.
I am complaining 67% of the time. (and the next person to tell me to think positive has a 97% chance of getting slapped)
My State and Local Government teacher is a pompous, pretentious asshole 99.999999999% of the time.
And I forgot about my blog for 100% of my spring break. Whoops.


I'm going to chat it up about karma.  First, let's get something clear.  I am not religious. I do not endorse, advertise, sell, solicit, or otherwise push any religious ideas onto any reader.  Ok?

What I do believe in?  If something can go wrong, it will.  Bad luck is almost a disease.  So what do you do?

You combat it with good karma. Yup.  Just keep "knocking on wood" everyone. Compliment someone.  Maybe that tea you spilled over yourself (or that iced coffee you dropped) may have stayed safely inside its container had you been nice to someone, or at least thought nice about someone.  I mean, we can't go complimenting everyone, everyday, for everything.  Then we'd be a creep. And there are just too many of those in the world.


If you're an asshole to someone, please be careful on the stairs.  The bad karma you created makes you liable to fall down the stairs, or worse (shame on you!) get a papercut.  You have to be pretty nasty to get a paper cut.  And if you fall down the stairs and take someone out with you, it's ok.  They probably were an asshole (at some point, there doesn't seem to be an expiration date)

Who knows what horrible things I've been doing for my bad luck. That's not the point. My point is, what if someone else's bad luck becomes your good luck? It's happened to me.  What if, in a bad decision, someone talked down to you? Told you EXACTLY why you should be disappointed, because OF COURSE they are better than you.  And your predicted disappointment turned out to be sweet sweet victory.  Maybe boasting is exactly what you need to do to fail miserably.  So when you think your crap doesn't stink, don't tell it to someone else.  Especially when that someone else is in competition with you. That is just asking for karma to shit on your life.  And that shit does stink.

Moral of the Story.  You being an asshole= me WINNING LIKE CHARLIE SHEEN.

Why I love Criminal Minds. And Spencer Reid. ...Mostly Spencer Reid.

I've mentioned this a couple times now, but I love love love Criminal Minds.  I love the predictable content of the show, because I happen to like predictable. I love the dry wit and sarcasm because that's all I have. I love the fact that they can just up and go anywhere, because their job applies everywhere.  I love that one of the prominent characters is a female who is not a size 2 and has super smart computer skills that put most men to shame.  I love that alongside super muscle dude- there's Spencer Reid who is as geeky as they come and yet it is still believable that he would be on the team. I love the limited character backgrounds because I could care less, unless of course you're talking about Spencer Reid.

Ah Spencer Reid.  I think I love his character because he's a nerd.  So am I. But that's pretty shallow.  He's a confident nerd.  He's doing well in life.  He's in the fucking FBI. How awesome is that?  His favorite phrase...."Statistically Speaking" is a cue for a fountain of knowledge that is actually applicable to the job at hand.  Most people that know a lot of statistics know them for the sheer fact of knowing them, and the statistics themselves are useless bits of information.

But mostly, I just love Spencer Reid.  Not the guy that plays him. Just Spencer Reid.

Next blog: something much deeper and more sarcastic. I promise.

Words that sound weird when said over and over again, and other thoughts that go through my head in math class.

Have you ever noticed when you say a word a lot, or read it over and over, it sounds bizarre and other worldly. Oh yeah. Like Stop.  I noticed stop is a weird word.  I read it over and over again on the 20 or so shuttle rides I have to take to Worcester every week.  I've decided it's a weird word.

Apparently whoever painted this thought STOP was a weird word too.

There are plenty others. Like unique. Kangaroo. Sugar.  I think if you stare at them long enough they start to appear weird.  Try it sometime.  It's probably why you're taught in english class not to words over and over to describe something.  If you use something over and over again, the person is going to notice you used it over and over again, and they won't just think you're a bad writer.  They'll think the word was weird.

(Side Note: who now thinks "over" is a weird word? Hehe)

Maybe I'm the only person who experiences the phenomenon of strange words.  Phenomenon is an awesome word.

As for my other thoughts in Math Class

-"I hate systems"

-"I'm pretty sure the kid behind me has a mouth breathing problem"

-"I should learn how to talk with a Russian accent"

Among other things.

As for my thoughts now...

What defines being selfish? I mean. I'm a selfish person, even though I'll bend over backwards for other people.  

But I'm definitely selfish.  I may not admit it all the time, but I totally am.  I mean, it's a basic principle---why would I suffer when I don't have to, or when someone I hate can suffer instead.

You can add that to the list of character traits: Vindictive Bitch. Oh yeah.

But I mean, if you can be a selfish person by wanting to be happy, and taking time for yourself- ok, whatever.  But when your family/employers/general assholes in your life tell you to stop being selfish and yet- take time for "me time" I can't help but see a paradox. Someone eventually has to accept or alter the circumstances to make themselves happy, which may in turn make that one or two other people happy.  So I'll take one for the team, I'll be selfish, so someone else doesn't have to.  And then the family/employers and general assholes in my life can suck it and let me be selfish. 

Glad I cleared that up.

That's all for this episode.  NEXT UP: I will decipher my strange addiction to Criminal Minds and of course my love of Spencer Reid.

See Below:

He's totally shooting some bad guy to save me.

Yup.

OMFG I found a picture of him AND A PUPPY. It's totally meant to be.