geek

Major-geek point #3: Oops!... I Did It Again

smackdown

Total-geek point #1: I opened a game of Hearts on a computer, and four hands later the score was Amazon-Zero, All three other players-104. That's right. I shot the moon four times in a row.

Total-geek point #2: This post.

right

Heather was just right. Absolutely right. Absolutely.
She pulled her floss and toothbrush off of her shelf. Then she said "You can't put dental floss on this."
She's absolutely right. Absolutely.

queen bee

Right now, I'm listening to a 14 year-old conversing on her cell phone. My heavens.
"...Are you going out with _______? Are you? OMG!!! Hahahaha! Hahahahaha! Ha! AHA! Hahahahaa! [more fake, raspy laughter. This is a terrible acting job.] Are you kidding?! OMG! She's so ugly!!! Really? O my gosh! Eeeew! Hahahaha! Then why don't you break up with her? OMG! Yeah? Hahahahahahah! Yeah, I don't think they know anything about ________ and I. Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Well, yeah. Kill him. Omg, Kill him! Ahh. Eww. No, what? What?!?! OMG! Hahahaha, where are you going? Where?!?! AHHHH! OMG! Ah, ah, uh, ahhh! Yeah? [excitedly] AHH! Okay, yeah? yeah? yeah? yeah? Ahhhh, okay when? Ah. AH! Okay. Yeah. [at this point she has boarded an elevator. Oh wait, she's back up here.] Yeah, you probably hang out with me more than he does. Haha, that's funny. K. [silence]"
Is this what I was just six years ago? Is this what I was supposed to be like? Was I supposed to have a different 'boyfriend' every other day and trash-talk every girl? Just a few hours ago, this girl asked me for my opinion. "Amy, do you think this girl is pretty?" [In all of the pictures she's showing me the girl's face is obscured.] "I can't see her." She advanced the photos so I can see others. "Can you see her now?" "Yeah." "So do you think she's pretty?" [She wants me to say no. I can also tell that she's seething about something regarding this girl. She uses the mouse to highlight not so flattering areas of the photografs.] "Yeah." [With an ever-so-slight choke of defeat she says:] "Oh. Okay." In your face, Queen Bee.
Is this not a bit disturbing? I look back at ages 12-15 and wonder if I somehow missed out on a part of growing up. Which part? I don't know, maybe the "he-said-she-said-you're-a-*****, and even though we are bff, you really do suck, so don't even think about sitting with us at lunch anymore. oh, and my magenta-sequined mini? i'd want that back, except that it's touched your skankiness, so you can keep it" part.

a-list only

I went to a Rockstar party the other night [in true Amy fashion, "the other night"was actually a week and a half ago. 04 Nov 2006, at least we're still in the same year, right?]. You were required to show up as a celebrity who deals in the music biznass, and my little Hilleryfriend went as Bjork. I helped her get ready and designed her dress: a swan made out of paper, of course. Our buddy Rachel went as Alanis Morrisette, Version Nude.0. Her brother Aaron showed up as that guy from Dashboard Confessional. I think his name features the letter C and R. Meh. I wasn't planning on going because my eye was flipping out, and thus my spectacles were whipped out to replace my contacts [And I had already been at another party, and I was hoping to return to it when my eye was restored to a healthier form]. But the ladies said that I looked like Lisa Loeb and we'd stop by that other party as well. So all of rockstars and divas and kings and queens of music poured into the livingroom. We had ladies and fellas from all genres of the industry and we all shook it like a polaroid photograf. It was fun to boogie down. Jungle boogie.

prediction

"Amy: At age 69 you will be attacked by a pack of escaped lap dogs in your neighborhood and never be seen again."

A friend sent a link to a website that has been programmed to predict cause of death. I entered my info and that's the circumstance I'll find myself in when I pass away. Either that or all of the other situations I got when I entered my stats repeatedly. Read on:

Amy: At age 46 you will drown in a wading pool under mysterious circumstances. The only clue will be a small blue pacifier found around your neck. [Mmm, nope]
Amy: At age 66 a statue will fall over and crush you while giving your acceptance speech for the position of Governor. [I'm not much of a politician, sorry Gov. Schwarzenegger]
Amy: At age 54 while showing your work at a major art gallery, you will be accosted and later slain by PETA activists. [Ironic... I'm a vegetarian and an animal rights activist myself.]
Amy: At age 64 you will be blown up by the pyrotechnics rigged at one of your "Still Not Dead" concerts. [Well, I -am- a bit of a pyro.]
Amy: At age 28 you will go down in a small raft, in your friend's pool, and subsequently drown. [I have a strict policy against using small rafts in pools.]
Amy: At age 28 you will become lost during a road trip and wind up living out the movie "Wrong Turn". Sorry for ya. [Never seen it, never will.]
Amy: At age 71 a group of children will text message you continuously for three years, eventually distracting you while driving and causing a fatal wreck; your fatal wreck. [If I'm still text messaging in 51 years, it's probably my time to go anyway.]
Amy: At age 28 a meteorite will strike you as you are walking to the gas station to buy a 40oz bottle of King Cobra. [I don't drink, nor will I ever, and I deserve that meteorite if that changes.]
Amy: At age 47 you will fall into a tank at a large aquarium and be eaten by suckerfish. [Not likely, 'suckerfish' primarily are scavengers and mostly eat bacteria.]
Amy: At age 40 you will die from a lethal overdose of methamphetamines. ["Drug free's the way to be."]
Amy: At age 67 you will die fighting the Global War on Terrorism in Mexico. [Global War? Terrorism? Mexico? Right.]
So I entered the information one last time and this is the one that seems the most probable:
Amy: At age 61 you will realize that you actually died three years earlier, and have been dreaming all the events since then.

Glamorous, no?

giauquebox

I'm being threatened internationally to write this post. It's funny how that can happen. So here's an intro to this criminal: Caitlin S. Giauque. Her alias is "Caitie". And the S. doesn't really stand for anything. In fact, that S. doesn't really exist in her name, but I think it sounds nice. At the moment, she's in London, England having a grand old time. Luckily, she returns in about a month, and I'm sure she doesn't want me to bring this up anymore, but it excites me. She's rad. She can play the violin like nobody's biznass and can make a mean dish of curry. Mmmm.
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