SO EXCITED OMFGFPHIQRBFGIOQR376EFGUOEH

HEY
YOU
PERSON
DO YOU SEE THIS FACE
THIS FACE RIGHT HERE

THAT FACE
WHICH HAPPENS TO BELONG TO ME
IS GONNA BE UP HERE IN LIKE TWO MONTHS

SO EXCITED
SO VERY EXCITED

IMAGINE IT

Okay. Let me explain.

As I'm sure is relatively well known, I am a pretty dedicated musician. I've been playing piano since I was about six and I also play a succession of other instruments, although piano is my main bitch. Recently, I've been getting over my crippling, vomit-inducing fear of singing in front of any other organism with the ability to hear sounds. So far, it's been going pretty well, and apparently I have a pretty decent voice. So, around a month ago, I heard about this cool little thing called Music Garage. It actually sounded kinda lame at first, because I only heard the radio ad for it. However, my dad was all like OMFG YOU GOTTA GO AND DO THAT SHIT, so I went and did that shit.

After we got home, my dad went and emailed the main dude at Music Garage. I didn't really do anything, because I wasn't that into it. I mean, I had no idea what it was anyway, so naturally, I was not able to give a damn. My dad soon told me that I'd be having an audition for Music Garage the following thursday. At first, I was kinda not very excited. My logic was that it would've been like an audition to be in a classical piano recital; those are the only kinds of auditions I'd ever been to. I thought I was gonna have to sit down at the piano and play them something all by myself while there were nasty judges, you know, judging me.

It was not like that at all.

The Music Garage was basically just a studio. The only real lights were colorful spot lights facing a little stage. The walls, floors, and ceilings were all black, there were posters all over the walls, and all that nice stuff. There was nothing professional about it. It was AWESOME. 

For the audition, all the other kids were in the back of the room eating pizza and casually talking. The only people who were "judging" were the directors of the thing. One of them was this big dude who was just standing there jamming, and the other was this skinny tall dude with really long hair who was also standing there just kinda headbanging. I had to play keyboards and sing, with a band. I guess I did pretty well, because I got chosen to be in the core band.

Essentially, shit tons of people auditioned, just to be in normal Music Garage. It was also pretty much an audition to be in the core band for Mountain Town Music. The core band is this thing that Mountain Town Music was paying Music Garage to organize. Basically, they wanted a band that could perform all around the Park City/Salt Lake City area. They wanted really good rock band, all teens, of four or five people; and they're paying a thousand dollars per kid in the band. I GOT CHOSEN TO BE THE LEAD VOCALIST AND KEYBOARD PERSON. I NOW HAVE A NET WORTH OF AT LEAST ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS. 

This, my friends, is also technically a scholarship. To be in regular Music Garage, if you make it in, you still have to pay a shit ton of money. But, because I'm in the core band, I'm being paid for. And I get to be in a badass band. I may be the only girl in the band, but I'm super good friends with all the other dudes in it, so I can't wait.

We've already been scheduled to play at like twelve different concerts and venues over the summer, one of them being Deer Valley Ski Resort. So, if you ever feel the need to go to one of their free concerts over the summer, I'm gonna be there, and I encourage you to throw food at us while we're playing. That's always been a dream of mine.

Core testing? Yeah, f*ck that

As you all know, April will be ending in 3 days. As I'm assuming most of you know, May comes after April. This means that we have about a month left of school. Now, that in itself is both awesome and stressful. It's absolutely great, for obvious reasons. However, it's also kinda shitty because that means I'll have to do shit with my life over the summer. This consists of several things I don't want to do. Getting out of the house to hang out with people so my parents don't physically pick me up by my shirt collar and throw me out of the house to get some fresh air is one of those things. Going outside in hot weather is another one of those things. Staying inside in hot weather is yet another one of those things. Shaving my legs is definitely one of those things.
I hate shaving my legs. I live in a townhouse complex, so we share hot water with like 3 other families. This means I only have about 10 minutes of hot water per shower. I don't have fuckin' time to shave my legs.

One thing I'm particularly dreading is the looming shadow of our last barration of testing in every single class. First off, I'm not the best student ever. My problem is that I don't see the point of going through the whole education system after about 7th grade. When you hit 8th grade, school entirely drops the concept of "learning" and becomes strictly a means of forcing unnecessary discipline upon hormonal, rebellious teenagers. I, personally, think that's a bunch of bullshit.

Not only are we getting stupid amounts of discipline, but it's stressful as fuck too. I mean, I know I'm getting rant-ish, but why do I need to learn about quadratic equations and the structure of a prokaryotic cell, be judged on my knowledge of such bullshit, and then have my life quality determined on how well I can recite said bullshit?

Can you tell that I'm pissed?

Anyway, as for the core tests; I'm gonna fucking fail those. What really sucks ass about that is how much I study for these damn tests. And yet, no matter how much I cram, the geography test is still like "what species of carnivorous, iron-clad martian is located exactly 6,903 meters below the earth's surface?" and the math test is like "count the circumference of every single one of your arm hairs, then with the average of this number, teach a hermit crab how to do the hokey-pokey."

I don't even really know what this post is about anymore, so I'm just gonna rant about stuff that really butters my moustache.

When my hair is all tangled when I get out of the shower. That butters my moustache.

When my sock starts coming off my foot when I'm wearing shoes. That sure does butter my moustache.

When my unibrow starts growing back after I attempt to take care of it. That really butters my moustache.

When my pot dealer laces my weed with street grade cocaine and meth amphetamines. That damn well butters my moustache.

When I get butter in my moustache. That butters my moustache.

I don't know what this post is about anymore...yay!

Why I hate people- 100th post!

Congratulations, self! This is my 100th post on this blog. Thank you all for your passive but apparent obsessions with all my posts, yeah, don't think I can't tell what you people go batshit crazy for.

In celebration of me hitting 100 posts, here's some of the reasons why I despise most humans.
BACKGROUND INFORMATION: I really hate people. I have like ten individuals in the entire world that I can hang out with for more than an hour without wanting to aggressively scrub myself clean afterwards. I'm a huge introvert and I most likely wouldn't have any sort of problem just sitting in my room by myself forever. Don't take any of these reasons as me being all depressing; I personally quite adore my own personality, and writing this post is going to be fun.

Reason #1: My interests differ greatly from the vast majority of America
If you know me, even in the least, you probably know that I am not very good at fitting into my own generation. While everybody else is swagging along, their pants down to their ankles, I'm still extremely emotionally attached to Seether and Nirvana and basically the entire grunge movement. If you try to strike a conversation with me, be prepared to discuss Corey Taylor's penis and such things. And that's exactly the problem. Nobody is prepared for that shit.

Reason #2: I have major social anxiety
I can't be around large groups of people ("large groups of people" being "any number of people") for more than a few hours, tops. I'm only even able to last a few hours if I keep interaction to a minimum, and the only time I expose myself to people for that long is in school. Otherwise, I start flipping my shit. I can't explain why. It's just a thing that happens. Like breathing. Or periods. Basically, in order to keep from being sent to a mental hospital, I spend the majority of my time by myself.

Reason #3: I'm ridiculously sensitive to vibes
Even if I do want to go out one day (which is just about as common as finding a guy with a huge dick who also rubs your back and makes you delicious food) one thing that deters me from doing so is that the outside world is so negative. Think I'm a downer? Try meditating, feeling all happy, then going outside and being able to physically feel the literal cloud of negativity just floating in the air. I wasn't made for this society, with our stupid businesses and stupid everything else. Y'all need to chill.

Reason #4: I'm very awkward
Yeah, I bet you never would've guessed! I'm one of the strangest people on the planet. I tend to make really horrifying faces in any everyday situation and that scares people. But, I mean, that's just how I communicate. I'm also not completely in touch with social norms. I'm a little socially impaired.
Some of the faces I make on a regular basis:

And that, friends, is why I have no friends.

Love is an old dead fish

So according to the, like, one comment on my "March Polls" post, people want me to write about a certain embarrassing moment in my life. Well, here goes.

In 6th grade, I accidentally dropped a dead guppy into the sweatshirt hood of none other than my crush.

As you most likely already know, I'm a very strange person. I've never exactly been prime girlfriend material. I'm really awkward and figuratively stub my toe a lot when it comes to romance; it's just the way I am. And, to top that off, in 6th grade I looked like a shaved baboon with chicken pox. Even with this aesthetic disability, I had a crush on this guy who was more or less on my level of disturbing, mid-pubescent hideosity. Essentially, I had a crush on somebody who was just as ugly and weird as I was, so I actually had a chance with this person.

So we were doing this project towards the end of the year where we were making our own ecosystems out of liter soda bottles, dirt, water, worms, snails, and fish. After a few weeks, when the project was over, most of the fish in the artificial ecosystems had died. It was disgusting, and our science teacher made us clean everything up, including the quickly decaying fish corpses.

When we were cleaning everything, my group elected me as the fish-cadaver-cleaner-upper, probably because I was so awkward and slightly resembled the dead fish. We had 2 fish corpses to throw away, so I put some gloves on and threw away one carcass with no problem. Then came the 2nd one.

This is where shit had hit the fan. I was walking towards the garbage pail, fish corpse in hand, when le crush bumped into me, smiling in all his awkward glory. I think I might've blacked out for a moment because of the sudden legit human contact with somebody who didn't think I was the result of a botched abortion. He turned around to throw away some old dirt, and I kinda leaned over his shoulder to awkward-flirt.

I dropped the fish into his sweatshirt hood.

It was an accident. I was so intoxicated by my pure derpy love for him that I lost my grip on my fish, and it landed right in the hood of his sweatshirt. I didn't say anything, purely out of the fear that he would never talk to me again if he knew that I had put a partially decomposed guppy into his clothing. I almost cried, and I walked away very quickly. Very quickly. 

In 2nd period, he noticed. It was math class, and somebody commented that he reeked of death and diarrhea. Everyone searched all over him to find the source of the stench; everyone except me. I was too scared. What if they could've traced the fish back to me?!

So they finally found the carcass in his sweatshirt hood. A girl who had originally been searching him was gagging and puking for quite a while after that. The crush was flipping the actual fuck out, accusing everyone except me of placing the fish in his daily attire. He never found out that I was the one who ruined his sweatshirt with a deceased fish. In fact, later that year, he became my very first boyfriend. I mean, we broke up after realizing that we did not know how to relationship, but that was a secret I still to this day will never tell him. Except for now.

Old 6th grade crush, I was the one who put that smelly carcass in your sweatshirt hood. Woops.

Inconsistency

As most of you know, I began this blog involuntarily. This blog is an ongoing assignment that began last September for my honors english class. Every week, we're assigned a decent-sized blog post containing a photo, a link, and lots and lots of words pertaining to said photo and link. Now, I do this happily. So happily, in fact, that I began long ago to post on this blog without even being assigned to do so. I guess that's what happens when your school gives you a nice laptop but all the cool websites are blocked; you turn into a work dork and convince yourself that you're having fun, when you're really just subconsciously craving massive quantities of gay fanfiction on tumblr.

Some of these un-assigned posts are actually pretty damn good, examples being my post about periods (which is one of my most popular posts, you sick fucks), and this post about my current life as a band geek. My personal criteria for a "good" post, is the following:

-The post mustn't contain any loads of crap, "loads of crap" being random bullshit paragraphs that I just tend to throw in there during fits of hyperactive madness.

-The post must have at least two paragraphs between pictures. Basically, there must be more words than pictures. I mean, this isn't preschool anymore, this is high school. I know, I'm as depressed about it as you are.

-There must be at least one or two of my own original illustrations. I just feel really accomplished when I illustrate a post. It creates the illusion that I have my shit together.

-The post must be humorous. This blog is technically a creativity blog, but let's be real here; the only reason anybody reads this crap is because I use words like "penis," "fuck," and "cuntnugget" more frequently than I should. Do not follow in my footsteps on the matter. South Park made a whole song about why swearing is bad. Seriously, look up "It's easy, Mkay."

As I was saying, I try my best to write "good" posts as much as possible. However, with my being easily excited and distracted, I write a lot of short cruddy posts too. Like, I have a whole post that's just basically just pictures of Bolbi from Jimmy Neutron. One of my most popular posts of all time is literally no words, just two really creepy illustrations. All you people seem to really like all my posts, crappy or not.

All you people, of course, excluding my english teacher.

TO SAID ENGLISH TEACHER, MY POSTS ARE "INCONSISTENT." 

Apparently, dearest Mr. Parker believes that my posts are inconsistent in regards to quality. I am apparently nut-kicking (that was my own language used right there) my readers outs of decent posts half the time because of the sheer frequency of my "cruddy" posts. Well, mister "I grade all your assignments and I decide your very fate with the possibility that I could force you to fail my class and remediate it over the summer therefor making you unappealing to colleges and ruining your chances of ever getting a decent job in order to support yourself even with the most basic essentials such as 2-ply toilet paper," I will have you know, I am a top-notch example of a teenager with ADD. This assures that I make a bunch of worthless posts, but SO HELP ME, they are still funny. My readers are predominantly other teenagers, and we all have damn short attention spans. Hell, I bet half my viewers aren't even reading this sentence because they only come here to look at the funny pictures which, in my defense, take me a long arse time to complete.

So, english teacher. I encourage you to appreciate all my posts, even the ones I do not submit as assignments, even the ones that are just slightly entertaining screenshots of cartoon characters from the 2000's.

Everyone else, I still hate you for choosing "embarrassing moments" as my next post topic. Go sit in the corner and think about what you've done. Butt faces.

How my music taste developed

Do pardon if this post is shitty. I'm having a major belt of hyperactivity and I'm typing faster than I ever have in my life it's actually really scary and I think I might need some medication to control whatever the hell is happening in my brain right now.

So my music taste is really weird. I consider myself a metalhead with great pride, because metal (in several different forms, nu-metal being one of my favorites) is my primary music choice. However, if we get into my other music tastes, you may begin to wonder who the hell brought me up. Well, let me answer that for you; I was raised by being passed around between my parents, my grandparents, and my uncle. By the time I was around ten, I had been raised on a solid foundation of classical music, Fergie, P!nk, Green Day, Pink Floyd, and other bands that start with a color.

In other words, I liked Boroque and Punk.

Then, 5th grade happened.

At this point, I was just uncovering that part of me that was like "I am rebellious but not too rebellious so I'm going to be a little bit rebellious but not enough to bother anybody but still pretty rebellious." I didn't really know how to deal with this, so I didn't. However, this was the time that I got my first ipod touch, which meant I could get apps. Along with Doodle Jump and Minination and maybe some apps that could be classified as porn, I installed the Vevo app.

In case you've been living under an extremely heavy and technologically impaired rock for the past seven years, Vevo is a music video viewing website. I had the app for about two months before somehow stumbling across Seether's music video for Fake It. I honestly cannot recall how I managed to find this video, but it was the single best thing that had ever happened to me, with growing boobs at a close 2nd.

Anyway, I had never listened to nor even really heard of nu metal or grunge before. That's why I believe I was so fascinated with this video/song. I had suddenly gone from listening to Big Girls Don't Cry to 35 year old men simultaneously playing loud instruments and smoking Marlboros.

one of these things is not like the others

So I have this weird mentality that has effected me since I can remember; if I find a band that I like, I'm afraid to listen to more than one or two of their songs because I'm afraid I'm gonna find a really shitty song and be disappointed and stop listening to said band. This caused me to listen specifically and only to Fake It and Remedy because I was somehow convinced that all of Seether's other songs would be shit. This went on for a good two years or so.

In 7th grade, along with blossoming into a fully fledged delinquent, I decided it was time to start listening to some more hardcore music. This evolved into getting into the well known genre of Punk, with bands such as Rise Against and Blink 182, besides Green Day which I had already been listening to since I'd come out of the womb. I felt so badass, like I should've been in a motorcycle gang. You know, one full of hormonal twelve year old girls who don't know what their own genitals look like.

Anywho, I was into punk for a good year or so after that, exceptions being like three Seether songs. Then, the end of eighth grade.

At this time, I had started listening to lots of grunge and 60's stuff. I had gotten over my fear of listening to new songs and Seether became my favorite band of all time, and at that status it still remains. But I had not yet discovered real metal. Until, that is, I discovered Children of Bodom.

Children of Bodom is a progressive death metal band from Finland, and they're a little bit horrifying. As I recall, I discovered them by shitting around on the interwebs for a while and I decided to look up "death metal songs" for some reason. Children of Bodom came up. I listened to a few of their songs. I was horrified. I think I may have shit myself. And I loved it.

After that fateful discovery, I began listening to more metal bands, such as Slipknot and Decapitated. I also got into black metal around the beginning of this school year.

Essentially, my music taste has just spiralled downward into this pit of horror and blood and screaming and inaudible lyrics and guys wearing makeup. Currently, I'm very happy with the music that I listen to, which consists mainly of grunge, nu metal, and death metal. I'm always open to new stuff, but metal will forever be the music I listen to in the shower; the most crucial and to-the-point time of music listening-to. I mean, you can't go and skip a song while you're in the shower. You'd better prepare your playlist for absolutely no skips, unless you want to require a new music-playing device every time you shower. Actually, if you're rich enough to do that, you could probably afford to just pay the actual band to come and play in your shower. But if you're like the rest of us, you know that shower time is time to listen to only your favorite music.

This post went downhill very suddenly.

Remember to shower regularly, kids.

What has band done to me?

GOD DAMN YOU, CONTEMPORARY CLASSICAL SYMPHONIES, YOU ARE RUINING ME. LOOK AT THE THINGS I AM LISTENING TO. I AM A FAILURE AS A METALHEAD.



LET ME EXPLAIN.
So I joined my school symphonic band around 3 months ago. I play the trumpet. I started playing trumpet in 5th grade, in my elementary school band. I continued playing trumpet in the school band until last year in which I took a break, but this year I took it up again, and let me tell you something; our symphonic band here is about 8000% more amazing than any other symphonic band I've been a part of. Like, for reals, we're like really tired, hungry, hormonal professionals.

Lately we've been working on this big ass piece called "Dusk," and it's like the noise angels make when they win the lottery. It looks easy, but you have to pay such close attention to how much force you put into each note and every single dynamic and when to stop and exactly how everyone else is doing it and there are parts when we have to hold whole notes for like THREE LONG ASS MEASURES and it's DIFFICULT but it's SO DAMN PRETTY OH MY GOD.

Yesterday in band practice we just did this song over and over for basically an hour and a half. I guess this forced it deep into my subconscious and fate then decided that I was destined to be a huge nerd and I become obsessed with that damn song.

I went home, and instead of doing my homework, I looked up Dusk on youtube and just kept playing it over and over again. I was dancing around the living room like a deranged chimpanzee, attempting to be graceful while conducting an invisible symphony band. My dad was there the whole time and he didn't say anything pertaining to "Stop that and go do your homework," as he usually does. Honestly I think he may have assumed that I was on hard drugs and that it was best to just leave me alone with my classical hoedown.

My mom gets home every day at 5 pm, and by this time yesterday I had been insulting the good name of dance for about two hours. My mom walked in the door and just kinda watched what was going on in her home, which consisted of her mature teenage daughter having what appeared to be a well-structured seizure and her husband sitting in the corner with his laptop and not doing anything about anything.

Then she promptly began conducting and dancing with me.

So instead of actually doing any sort of homework last night, my mom and I just spent the whole night on the interwebs looking up songs similar to Dusk so we could conduct more. Now I'm obsessed entirely with contemporary classical symphonies. They're fucking beautiful. I'm taking a break from being a metalhead in order to be Beethoven.

The struggle is real

So I like to think that I'm a relatively privileged individual. I'm not totally rich, in fact my family is below the poverty line set for Park City (which means my family makes a very sufficient amount of money because Park City is like fucking Atlantis), however, we're still in the middle class. This means, despite my incredibly large amount of luxury and future when compared to the rest of the world, I have fucktons of problems. These problems are the bane of my existence. I wish they would all die. What kind of problems am I talking about, you may be wondering. What I am talking about are the things that haunt our very psyche. They follow us until the day we die. They eat away at our sanity and motivation to live until we are reduced to quivering lumps of skin and tears.

What I am talking about....are first world problems.

What is the deal with first world problems? Why must they haunt us?

Let me recall my first memory of having my own first world problem. I was around three, I believe. I was on my way to tap dance class, and I was hungry. Like, bitchy hungry. I was sitting in the back seat, bitching at my mom that I was really hungry. She kept telling me two things:
Thing #1: I had just eaten a butt ton of eggo pancakes
Thing #2: There was gonna be a huge ass buffet at tap dance practice because it was our last day of class.
I just couldn't wait the 10 minutes down the freeway to get to the dance studio, because the abundance of butter slathered carb-circles apparently wasn't enough for me. I had just eaten, but I was still hungry and I didn't want to wait for my mom to drive me in a 20,000$ car down the well-kept highway to my expensive tap dance practice in order for me to stuff my face with more food.

COMMON FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS:

-I'm hungry, but I'm too lazy to get off the couch and get food.

-My arm is too fat to fit in the Pringles can.

-I kinda want to be a vegetarian but meat is so delicious.

-I'm super comfy in my bed and I want to go to sleep, but I'm too comfy to get out of bed and turn off the lights.

-I just got in bed and now I have to pee.

-I just made a sandwich and realized I'm not that hungry.

-I'm not poor enough to have welfare buy me whatever the fuck I want, but I'm not rich enough to buy myself whatever the fuck I want.

-I ran out of red hair dye so I had to use the blood of my enemies instead.

I don't fangirl. I get ladyrections.

-if you don't share my love for grunge and nu metal and the dudes who make it, I must warn thee, this post won't mean shit to you. It does however make me projectile vomit rainbows so deal.-

MOTHERFUCKING

SHAUN FUCKING MORGAN

 COREY FUCKING TAYLOR

*WARNING* IF LADY BONER LASTS LONGER THAN 4 HOURS, CONGRATULATIONS, YOU PROBABLY JUST TOOK A GOOD LOOK AT THIS PICTURE

 KURT COBAIN OMFG YES PLEASE

I HAVE HIM ON MY WALL