How to be Interesting P.1

.....Since no one seems to read my blog I've considered opening up and telling people what I really want to say to them without them ever reading it. For instance, I could tell that guy he ticked me off and he doesn't even know it because I'm too nice to tell him. Or maybe I could sing a song to my friend explaining that I don't trust her anymore.
.....But on the off-chance, the way, way off-chance, that one of them actually read what I wrote, well, I'd feel bad. Oh, and this blog isn't a confessional. It's to develope writing skills, gosh! Oh goodness, I sound like Napolean Dynamite. (Develope my skills and whatever I feel like! Idiot!) But that's not even a good enough reason, is it? I need something utterly AMAZING on this site! Oh, I know what you're all thinking: "You're already talking about you! What's more amazing than that?"
.....But honestly, people, I am not falling for it this time. *Ahem* You know what I need? I word of the day!! Or a lesson, perhaps. I try to teach lessons throughout my stories, if you haven't noticed my little morals section at the bottom. But it needs to be official. Starting tomorrow.
.....And the moral of this story is: You should read my blog.

Spirit of Christmas!

.....I have a heart-warming story for you today. A little break from my attempts at comedy.
So once upon...three days ago, my parents went in to Aldi's (a store-from Germany- for people who are trying to save money like us) while I stayed in the Green Machine (an extended mini-van) to watch my younger brother and his friend. Well, my parents shopped around and were ready to check out. They let a man with less groceries than them in front of them. Well, the old woman in front of him forgot her check book. She didn't have a lot of groceries, but she had nothing to pay for them with. So the man my parents showed polite kindness to showed great kindess to the old lady by paying for her groceries. Then he told her, "Merry Christmas."
I can just hear the "Awwww"s.
.....So there you have it. I'm less icy already.

Insanity Takes Over

.....My mother, though I love her dearly, can be as much of a nutcase as I. ;)
Let me relate to you our conversation last night:
Mom: "Is it noon- uh, midnight? I mean ten?"
Me: *laughs*
Mom: "Would you hand me a box?"
Me: "Uh.. sure... What kind?"
Mom: *focuses on her solitaire game*
Me: "Mom?"
Mom: "Hey, hand me the T.V."
Me: "Um, no."
Mom: "I mean, hand me the remote. "
....Yep, that's how it goes in my house. Sometimes she even addresses me as all of my brothers' names and a few pet names before she remembers that I am called Rachel. But sometimes I utter random nonsense that confuses the heck out of them, so I guess we're even. Oh, and all of my friends love my mom, too. So I guess nuttiness is pretty cool as far as parents go..
.....We're not the only nutters in the house, by far, let me tell you! There's my little brother, who is sarcastic in his sleep talking, my father, who chased me with one of those shock pens today, and my cat, who walks toward the van when I'm pulling into the garage but is deathly afraid of the street. And that's only the beginning.
Oh, yay, we're going to go decorate the tree. I'm going to see what happens and find out if I'll have a good story for tomorrow.

.....So the other night while I was getting ready to head upstairs for bed... woah that sentence is long and run-on-y. Anyway, my mom started telling me this story while I was taking a big drink of water. If you know where this is going, don't spoil it for yourself. Well, her story went like this:
....."This lady was telling me she didn't answer her door if the bell rang during the day. So I said, 'Really? Because I jump up to look out my window like this-'" and then she showed me.
.....If the thought of knocking on another's door and finding two crazed eyes peeking over a high window for a split-second doesn't make you either laugh or feel a little freaked, you must not be very fun. Because I spewed my entire drink all over my mom's face.
.....Yeah, I was already cracking up, but then my mom started laughing hard, too! Her hardest laugh ever! SO I laughed even harder than I already was, and I found myself quickly on my knees, choking for breath. I seriously thought, I'm gonna die. I'm going to die laughing because of my mother. All of those dreams have finally come true...
.....Well, obviously it subsided, because I'm typing here, now, right? Anway, I don't know if I have anything else that could top that this week. I'll have to think it over. Don't tell people jokes, or rather, anything that could possibly be taken as amusing, (my mother told me later she hadn't even finished the 'joke' yet) while others are drinking any kind of fluid. Sage advice, I know.

Call Backs

So yesterday were the auditions for a production of Beauty and the Beast. I only had to sing a sixty second solo (say that three times fast) and do some spins and kicks and a dance in front of the judges before they announced who were to stay for call backs. Well, my solo went great. Well, it wasn't the best, but I did pretty good, I guess. One of the judges said, "I could probably hear you if you went out to the park! You were actually loud." And I was reassured that that comment was positive, haha, but I wasn't so sure. Anyway, the spins? They were okay. I'm just lucky not to have seriously injured someone. The kicks were awful, I'm sure. But I understood the dance enough to help some other people with it, which has led me to be excruciatingly sore today. I can't even go down the stairs without yelping. Of course, that's to be expected when you don't normally jump in and out of squats three hundred times an hour.
So there we were, waiting for them to announce call backs. We'd been there all day. She was reading the numbers fast, but not fast enough. I was number 91, and my hands were sweating with anxiety. "80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89, 90, 91.." she called it. I got a call back! Woot! Uh-oh. That meant I had to do a cold reading of the script for a random part. I had been fine all day, but then the butterflies came. Only half-way, thankfully.
After a long time of seeing the same scene rehearsed, she called me up. Then she sent the rest back, and I was alone. I hoped desperately not to do something on my own. Then a few people started chanting, "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel..." Like, I'm so sure. Why try and make me blush before I've even done anything? Then she called up several more girls. She told us we were to sing "Home" which is performed by Belle in the play. I scolded myself for not listening to the soundtrack to the musical that Mom had gotten me beforehand. I didn't know the song. So I tried hard to listen to the others sing it before me, and to remember it. But I kept mixing it up with another song, and I sang several wrong notes when it came to my turn. I totally blew it! Ugh. And it was in front of EVERYONE.
Then she dismissed me without even having to do a cold reading, so I don't know what that means. But the worst part is- I have to wait THREE WEEKS to find out which part(s) I am to have! Oh dear me, I might die.
On another note, I performed a terribly stupid song I wrote on the guitar for an audience of several stuffed Care Bears and Elephants, and one of them kindly recorded it for me on my camera, so I might somehow post that on here tomorrow. Then you can hear how wonderful my hideous singing is.. Maybe I should turn this into a Sing-Along-Blog! Wouldn't that be fun? Vote in the poll =D even if you don't actually exist. Because no one reads my blog anyway,....... so why not do whatever I want with it?

Funniness Taken the Wrong Way

So today, during choir... the girls got a few breaks while the guys were singing. I'm a soprano, and some of my friends, Faith and Meredith, sits across the room as altos. So during that time I was looking through the row of guys and making faces at them. Well, not just faces. I was winking, waving, wiggling my eyebrows, sticking my tongue out, etc.
To my horror, when I got home and checked my Facebook, a guy in the same row as Faith, Meredith and I thought that I was making faces at HIM. Oh dear.. I was so embarrassed, and I blushed despite the fact that this conversation was over the internet. Luckily, he believed me readily.
So as my warning to you; think of every possible consequence before you wiggle your eyebrows at someone as a joke. Or don't, and have something to write on your blog about and tell all of your friends.

Fighting The World

This is going to be a hard post to write, because my dog is sitting next to me and whining for me to spend all of my attention petting and snuggling with her. She's making all sorts of odd noises, she does that when she reaaaaaally wants something. It's like she scolding me or something. For goodness' sake, my dog is a nutzo. She's super smart, yeah, but she acts like a two-year-old and she's thirteen. Yeah. Hyper and curious. Oh, and she doesn't listen to me. Sure, she loves me like crazy and will follow me everywhere, but she has no respect for when I say "No." Probably because I say it again and again and then eventually will give her half of my cookie.

Anyway, let's move back to the title. Yes, "Fighting The World", or a better title might be, "Trying to Stay Sane When There's, Like, Little Possibility of That!"
Life is just crazy sometimes. And we can't control it, no matter how hard we might try. I've just been ready to bite someone's head off all day... but I know that eventually everything will be okay, every bad memory forgotten.. and one day I'll be with Jesus, who loves me more than anyone else, more than I can fathom, and just that thought makes things better.
So hopefully I'll start the holdays joyful and without biting any unfortunate and unsuspecting family members, right? Haha. Yeah..

Actually, family get-togethers are awesome at my house. Did I already mention that hilarity ran in my family? Well, it does. Like my mom said yesterday, when Chase lied that he didn't like being the center of attention, "You have to fight for it in this family." So I'm looking forward to it. Oh, and the no school part it kindof great, too. ;)

Audience

What is my audience? That would make it easier for me to write, you know. Well, you invisible person. Because does anyone read this? Maybe my BFFLEEExIn.^2, (Best Friend For Life and Ever and Ever and Ever times infinity squared) and if I were a complete nerd(I'm only half-dork) I would say, "My mom..", but she doesn't. Haha..
Anyways... I doubt anyone reads this. I could put a poll up, but should I set myself up for that disappointment? =D
So I just wanted to post without thinking today, and that's what I got.

I Have an Afro.

=Congratulations, you're about to see my bed-head.


This is what my hair looks like when I first wake up.

See? I'm yawning. I just woke up.

(In case you can't tell.. it's a wig)

And when I straighten it, it magically becomes a lighter color and shorter!

My Family Laughs

The other night Chase, my brother, was bugging the heck out of me by making creepy noises in the back of his throat and swinging his hands at me like an animal. I went up to my dad and exclaimed, "Your son is a monster!" His face looked a little worried when he answered, "Again?"
Today I was complaining to my mother, again, that it was too cold and I was considering going to public school just for the heat. She laughed, saying something about me blackmailing her, but I was dead serious. It's freezing in my house, and I can barely get out of the hot shower in the mornings. So later, when I was complaining again, she said, "Here!" and grabbed my wrist and ran around the house, dragging me along. I have a very interesting family...
Very interesting, and evidentally, hilarious. I went to a camp this summer but before we left this guy dropped a fourteen year-old kid at my house so we could take him, too. He was freaking six feet tall or something, though. Anyways, he was at lunch with my family while my cousin was visiting after Church. He told me he was about to die of laughter, that my family was stinking funny. It's all completely true, though. I laugh every single day. Although, according to this guy, I'm not as funny. =( But I'm also the sane one, so I guess that counts for something. It's hard to compete with what I've got for a family, you know? We're like a band of comedians, -no, we're like the show "Last Comic Standing". We just don't get to perform for people often. Oh, and we're not crude. And, thankfully, we don't kick people off.
So, I have an odd family, but hey, who doesn't? Laughing is also very good for you. So, really, if you're trying to get healthy just come live at my house. That is, if you like sarcastic humor. Some people don't get it, but for the people who do, they love us. Well, my family, because apparently I just don't measure up. When that kid visited I was the one they had chosen to pick on for the day, too. So I am one-sixth of their material. I couldn't say for sure if that is a good or bad thing..
Let's go over the disadvantages...
First, funny families tend to poke fun. If you say something utterly stupid, you're going to get lots of laughs for months, and then the writers of the family will jot what you said down so that it can be remembered for years by hundreds. Sometimes you try to make a good come-back, but those are often just as hilariously idiotic.
Second, when you hang around people that aren't as funny it just kills you. Especially around people who just don't use sarcasm, or for that matter, take it very well. Several times I have said something that would have made my family or my friends laugh for minutes and minutes around the wrong kind of people, and I received blank faces with silence. You could literally hear the crickets chirping.
That's about it, so let's move on to the good stuff you can get out of funny families..
But before we begin, I'll warn you this list could go on forever, so I'll just list the main points.
First we have the laughing. Enough said.
Second, more laughing.
Third, I'm pretty sure the advantages explain themselves. I mean, of course you could go into detail, but the people who need it explained to them are not reading my blog!
Wait, that sounds like I'm calling myself funny. No, I'm calling the stories funny. It has nothing to do with how funny I am, necessarily. Also, people who don't laugh are boring and don't read fun stuff anyway. Although they should, because this blog is very informative. For example, did you know that snipes are real? Well, they are. Look it up on Wikipedia. If you were planning to go snipe hunting with your friends this weekend so you're all like, "Duh", well you're all like stupid, because your friends are playing a prank on you. They're probably going to leave you in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of the night. Get new friends. Oh, and this blog is also blunt.
So, yes, this post was very random indeed. But we went over the basics; boys, TV shows, laughing, and snipes. We also explained that this blog was for informative purposes only, because knowing which situations require water guns and which require caution tape are important to you. But is the blog funny? A sad attempt, maybe so, but you decide. You who? You, the invisible person, because I know out there somewhere is my dedicated reader, you're just imaginary.

Here I Am

I'm making weak coffee, preparing to go to a college fair and annoying the other residents of this house (My mother and brother) with my sheer insanity. "I'm sorry," Mom apologized earlier. "I don't know what's wrong with her."
Well, I'm afraid there is nothing terribly wrong with me at the moment, other than the reoccurring nightmares each night since the fatalistic dentist appointment half a month ago. And the fact that I've had stories to tell, but each day I've tried to tell them it's been a special day that I feel I must share a story about (Halloween, the election, etc.)
Before I get on to my stories, I have cool news. Not the greatest, or even wonderful, just cool. On Monday I met with my teacher from the college about my essay, and he said that he wishes my friend Annie and I were the only students he had to grade. We're the ones in highschool. He gave me a check + on my paper (not to be graded officially until December) which signifies perfect. He found nothing seriously wrong with my paper, and he said he could tell I enjoyed writing the paper. This, of course, boosted my ego and has been a great encouragement for me. I shall continue to write until someone reads. And perhaps I'll put my papers on here, and then you can see my lame joke attempts.
Well, mostly for stories I have the funniest things Chase, my brother, has said to me throughout the week:
"Rachel, one time I embarrased myself!" Nothing I tried to say was funny enough to capture the moment worthily.
"*gasp* I have ABS!!!"
The other day I was lying on my kitchen floor, and he kept climbing over me. So I grabbed his pants by the waistband and warned, "Don't move or your pants will come off." Of course, he slid right out of them... I don't know why but i found this hilarious at the time.
I can't even begin to explain his amazing costume to you until I get the pictures uploaded, but let me tell you, it got lots of compliments and some confused faces.

Hand Hugs

Depending on where you're from, I have no idea whether or not you've heard of the hand hug. Ha ha.. that was lame-sounding. Basically, in my college class on Monday, my Prof. asked me what word I was writing my definition essay about. It's "Hi", which led Dave (without Dave's friend, he was sick or something) to turn around and say, "What?" with this crazy expression that he's given me more than once, not understanding what I meant, apparently. Actually, he uses the expression alot, and, come to think of it, he's confused.. alot. Anyway, the teacher was writing synonyms and negations (denials or opposites..) for this word on his gigantic blackboard, and he started to talk about how "the wave" also meant "Hi". I already knew this, it was already in my draft. He also stated the the high-five was the same, (with which I disagree) and told a story about how he didn't know how to give one.
This is where the hand hug comes in. The guy behind me, the one from Texas that told me I should go on the river walk again when I'm twenty-one (Um, he's in a freshman class, shouldn't he be 18?), said, "You could give a hand hug!" which sounded more like, "Yeh cud gev eh and ugg. " with lots of gibberish in between.
"A what?" my teacher asked.
"A hand hug!" he and the girl from Oklahoma said together. I guess she also was a fan . They then demonstrated together what it was. If I could find my camera, I'd show you a picture to help explain, but I'm afraid it's temporarily misplaced.
Find a friend, and put your right hands together, like you just froze a high-five on impact. Take your thumb, and wrap it around your friend's hand, and have him/her do the same. Awkward, am I right? But after the first ten times you do it, it becomes totally awesome. Well, to you and the few friends that get addicted to it, too. I showed my whole team Monday night, and one of the girls spread it to everyone else she knew. Down south I guess this is a trend, I'll have to ask my cousin, Chris, because he's from Oklahoma, too.
Go spread the love! Give a hand hug!
(I promise, no more parenthesis in the next post.)

Speaking of Scary Things That Shouldn't Exist..

like Dentists, I've decided to relate to you my scary clown story. I've already told this a thousand times, so this is going to be the really crappy version. This really happened, I want you to know. It starts way back...
A long, long time ago, -like, since I was born- in land far, far away from here, -Grant, Nebraska, actually- there was a farm..
And on this farm lived Grandma Dody and Grandpa Bobby. A loving couple with a taste for Japanese and Chinese decorations... including a Buddha cookie jar. Anyways, Grandma Dody had a handmade clown from a dear friend. I must describe it to you so that you can understand the horror of this... thing.
It was big. Bigger than I, for a time. Well, more like long. And thin, its arms and legs were about an inch in diameter. He was made of yarn, crocheted. His "outfit" consisted of a gray color, with white pom-pom balls sewn on for buttons down the front. His hands were the shape of those evil, fingerless mittens, and white. So where his tiny feet. But his face, oh his face, was the most heinous.
White. No neck. Long. His eyes were black "x"s, and his mouth a blood red "U". The nose? Just a little flap of white. His hat? White and yellow. This face has haunted many a nightmare in my family.
Alright, now that you can sort of picture him in your head, the dull, murderous clown, I'll shortly explain the room he was in: He sat in a child-size rocking chair, in a room with a red-orange carpet. One wall had a huge Grandfather clock, and the other had mirrored tile, arranged so that everywhere you look you could always see the clown. (I know, right?) The orange couch had pillows that looked like eyes.. I have no clue as to why that was, but they were almost as creepy as the clown. Except that they couldn't survive the fire.
That's right. The house burned down. The clown's room was in the basement, and the house burned from top to bottom. No way was anything coming back from down there.
We went to visit my grandparents at the new house. I went to bed in the room they had set up for me. I looked up at the dresser and almost screamed, because there he was, smiling at me.
Yeah, I know, right? Not even a single singed string of yarn! (try saying that three times fast.)
Disclaimer: this IS meant to offend any clowns out there, I know your true colors, and one day I will expose you ALL!
JUST KIDDING PLEASE DON'T EAT ME.

The Most Evil of Evils... The Dentist

If you're as fearful of the dentist as I am... this probably isn't a good post for you to read.
I went to the dentist today. If you don't know, I'm very fearful of dentistry, and I hate it, too.
What's worse is the last time I saw him he had been calling me "the troublemaker". Yes, my brothers, he told me, were "angels" but I was the troublemaker.
I was there to have a cavity fixed. I have had five cavities and seven shots in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I brush my teeth after every meal, and I floss once a day. I just have bad teeth. It stinks. Anyway, the only reason I agreed to go is because I've been wanting to straighten my teeth with braces forever. Well, I'm on my way and I'm freaking out, but not too bad, because he told me this was a small cavity. I handled the shot in my cheek like a champ. No crying, no complaining, and no anything.
It wasn't numb enough after the first shot, so he gave me another. It wasn't supposed to hurt again, but it did. That scared me a little. He also said that to dry up my mouth, I had to take this pill. But he gave me three. They all said "hope" on them.. which kind of freaked me out, honestly. Hope for what? That I won't die during my appointment? That he won't drill through the side of my head? I didn't ask.
So my mouth is dry and numb, and it's gettin hard to breath. I already have a lot of anxiety when I'm at the dentist, and this was no different, obviously.
The drill. The worst instrument used by the dentist. The noise that's like forks on a plate, the smell, and the site of smoke while it is IN your mouth... I have a panic attack every time I think about it. And today I'm almost positive he hit my nerve. Having your nerve hit with a drill is way worse than the shot, let me tell you. Then I got in trouble for jerking away because "that's dangerous". What a troublemaker I am. Another time I was sure he was drilling my cheek. That wouldn't have been good. And I know for a fact that the drill hit my tongue three times. Good thing it's still numb...
I talk like a weirdo, now, too. "Hey gahs... whasthhhupth?"
He showed me the tooth after he drilled in the mirror. What did he consider small? He drilled the entire inside of my tooth out! I'd hate to see have a big cavity...
I ended up wearing myself out, because every tool he inserted in my mouth I would tense up everything, and hold onto the chair's arms for dear life. One time he told me, "I'm not going to hurt you!" Yeah, right. If you become a dentist you must have some morbid passion for causing people pain. Just kidding, no offense to the nice dentists out there. Or mine.. if you're a blog reader and happen to see this... I sure hope not. Just in case.. I'm never going back. Kicking and screaming... never.
It's like a told my friend a few months ago, the only thing worse than a dentist is a dentist whose also a part time clown. Because the you know he's a murderer.
Or like I told my mom afterwards, "There's a reason we changed my old "Dentist Barbie" to "Evil Doctor Barbie" and rubber banded a gun to her hand."

Speaking of Funny College Incidents...

Okay, bear with me, this is going to be really stupid. I'm very tired so this probably looks very awful.
Don't worry, it' nothing bad or leading to arrest.
And, no, I'm not in college. I'm in high school, I'm just taking a college class. English Composition 1, actually, and I enjoy it, also.


Anyway, to explain today I must explain what happened just a couple weeks into the class.

One normal day, during class, Professor Hurst decided to go into one of his "don't get arrested or waste your college years" speeches. Which, I don't mind, but they don't quite relate to me yet. But that time, he asked, "is anyone not at least 18?" to go into a talk about being able to do whatever you wanted, but choosing to be wise with your time. Regrettably, I raised my hand. I could feel my friend, Annie, staring bullets into the back of my head. Apparently, I was the only one, because then he asked me,
"Really? How old are you?"
Crap. The one thing I hoped he wouldn't ask. But I couldn't lie, now.
"Fifteen."
That started the "holy CRAP!"s and "How is that POSSIBLE?" and that "WHAT?"s, all over the room, most loudly was Dave and Dave's friend (two large kids on the front row that seem to be lacking much intellect.)
"Fifteen, WOW", Prof. Hurst was taken aback -LITERALLY, he stepped backwards. Scared of the young genius, I guess.
Annie raised her hand at that point, I guess, because she said,
"Yeah, fifteen."
The girls next to us spun around in amazement.
"So how do you get here?" Chelsea, the less bright of the two, asked.
I tried to explain that I lived in the area, first.
"You live on campus?"
No. Let me repeat myself..
"What about driving?"
They probably drive illegally." Soncerae laughed. Weird name, I know. She goes by 'Sonny', or something.
"So, are you like super smart?" Chelsea, again.
"We're still in high school. "
"How--??!!"
"I'm just taking one class!"
"We're dual-enrolled," Annie said, coolly.
The whole room was still exploding in awe. Hurst,
"Okay, we got that all cleared up?"
"yeah."
"Good," he started to move on, but found another question. "So, do you two go to school together?"
Crap. I wasn't prepared for that one.
"Uh......."
"Sorta." Annie said, and I repeated.
"Home schooled?"
Crap! I just couldn't catch a break!
"Uh... yeah."
"Okay, just wondering because have you done stuff like this before?"
Needless to say, we don't like being outed at college classes that we're under aged homeschoolers that are smarter than them. Afterwards, Chelsea asked us how to spell "Luau". Which, I knew, but she didn't believe.
The next day I answered a question no one knew, (they always answer when they know.)
and I was correct. Chelsea whispered something and pointed behind her at me with her thumb, to which Sonny replied with, "I know."
I'm guessing it was something along the lines of, "It was that home schooled girl!"
Anyway, this was really long, so I'll tell you what happened today tomorrow, understand?

F-f-f-fr-r-reeeeeeeeee-ee-eeezing-g.

It's so cold in my house. Sixty-five degrees, it says, but I don't believe it's that warm. I have long pants, socks, a jacket and sweater on. Plus I have a huge blanket wrapped around me twice. My mom is refusing to turn the furnace on while Dad's gone. I asked her if she was planning on never turning the heat on all Winter. "Of course not! We're just only going to let it get up to, maybe, sixty." My teeth are chattering. I can't sleep at night because it's so cold. It's sooo not funny. Why I am telling you this? Because I'm in misery and trying to keep the blood flow circulating through my fingertips.

So then, I'll tell you why my Dad is gone over the weekend. My grandma's chest cavity filled up withliquid but she's ok now. She just had heart surgery.
But the thing is, he took Chase with him. So it's quieter. And less violent. I haven't even injured myself since he left...yet.
So unless I'm frozen solid I'm sure I'll remember the funny things that have happened all week.

Story of My Life

Today I'm going to tell you about what happened to me last night, got it? Ok, well this sort of thing is a natural occurence, let me tell you.
First off, my mom came home. Yay, cheers, all that happy stuff. I am honestly happy. Too bad my dad left the next morning.

Anyhoo, I hear her in the other room yell, "CRAPOLA!" which is something I've never heard her say ;) I laugh. Quite hard. Well, I would have, if she wasn't so angry. She was yelling at the trash. Then she tells me and my brother to take it out. So I get my bag before Chase does and walk outside. It's night, so it's dark, and I dont' even bother with the porchlight.
I decide, "I'm not scared of whatever animals are out there, I'm just going to do it."

Well, I wasn't scared. Until the raccoon tail hit my leg and ran under the bush by the porch.
So I was stuck on the driveway with an over-filled trash bag. I can't get back inside, because the animal is growling at me from the bush I just passed. And I can't put the trash in the barrel, because that's blocked by another, much bigger bush-like thing.

So I drop the trash and wrap the blanket around me tighter, and I bring my feet close together because I'm barefoot. I debate over yelling for a minute, then realise that's all I can do. So I yell for Chase for at least two minutes, raccoon still gritting its teeth together. I can tell he's standing at the storm door because he's shining his huge flashlight out of it and he turned the porchlight on. Finally he comes out after I all but scream his name.. ok, I screamed his name.
He starts walking towards me while I shriek, "STOP! GO BACK! OPEN THE GARAGE DOOR! NOOOOOW! BECAUSE THERE'S AN ANIMAL IN THE BUSH! OPEN THE DOOR!"
Of course, he doesn't listen to me. And he lays down on his stomach with the flashlight to look under the bush. So I yell louder,
"THERE'S A FREAKIN' ANIMAL IN THE BUSH! GET BACK INSIDE AND OPEN THE GARAGE DOOR NOW! OPEN THE FREAKIN' DOOR! I mean it! NOW! "

FInally, he does. And he throws a HUGE ol stinkin fit about how I have no right to be mad. And at this point of course I am TICKED and for some reason I'm worried about losing my voice.
Back to the correct tense, now...
Maybe I didn't scream as loud as I thought, I was trying to be respectful of the neighbors, haha.

Payback Time

Day 5:

HAHAHAHA! This time I was prepared for when Dad woke me up.
But this time, he just came in and said gently, "Wake up, Princess."
Too bad I had already planned what I was about to do. I reached lazily under my pillow and pulled out the squirt gun I had received inconspicuously from Chase the night before.
Two shots to the chest.

I won. =D

I'm inconceivably happy with myself.
It was my aunt and mother's idea, when I called and complained about the "Jell-o" thing.

Though, he then yelled, "Last person ready for school gets to clean my bathroom!"
I reached again for the gun, but he was already gone.
Dad told me later that he thought the squirt gun was rather ingenious, and he wondered if I was going into law enforcement judging by how I shot him.

On to other funny things.....
Dad came upstairs and said, "Let's see where we have to go today--nowhere? That's great! I can go see people now." He went back down to his office and came back up a little bit later, saying, "But I don't want to go anywhere, I want to stay home with my family."
Then he added, wistfully, "I want to sit on the deck eating ice cream while I watch Rachel mow..." Chase laughed. I wished I had the squirt gun with me.

Worst Wake Up Yet!

Day 4:

If you've read my other post I've been journaling the different ways my dad has been waking me up since my mom went out of town. This lost one drove me crazy.

He came into my room, grabbed hold of my foot and started shaking me back and forth with it, saying "Jell-oooo! She's like Jell-oooooo!" over and over. I got nauseous and started saying "Stop, stop, stop it" but made no effort to shake his hold off of my foot.

I'm this close to getting drenched with water, I'm sure.

Emo Appreciation and Awareness Month

Yes, I have declared it so, to go along with my background I've been wanting to use. Because who doesn't love an Emo? Emo, for you who don't know, is short for Emotional. But really, it's mostly a style. Skinny jeans, black clothing, the cute hair cut -- but it's not to be confused with Goth.
We love Emo kids, because they're so darn beautiful and they give us someone to try and cheer up and make happy. We also adore the fashion statement. Emo is my favorite way to dress, I must say. Except, the skinny jeans remind me an awful lot of the horribly awful and disgusting tapered jeans.. and yet, people still wear them. Your kids will laugh when they see you in pictures, I promise.
So celebrate the Emo style with me by wearing your hoods up, acting depressed and hiding your face with your oh-so-gorgeous hair.
Or, it might be more of a three-month thing, because I don't know when I'll create the new background.
It's also Vegetarian Month, I don't know why, and it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, in case you haven't been watching TV. But who cares about vegetarians? I mean, I don't mind them at all, my best friend is a veg-head! But Emos are way awesome-er.

Wake up, now!

Hmph. I hate getting up in the mornings. I hate it with a passion.
Instead of setting my alarm clock, my mom just comes in and wakes me up. I let her do this because sometimes she lets me sleep in and start school later than normal. But my mom's out of town taking care of her aunt, so my dad's taking care of us.
Today, I'm just going to tell you what my dad has done for the past few days to wake me up, instead of turning on my light.

Day 1:
Opened my door real fast and yelled "Get up!" then sang "Get up sweet pea, hear the morning sing ♪♫" Scared the nightlights out of me. He left, I fell asleep, and he did it again, scaring me twice as much.
Day 2:
After scaring me, he called the house phone from his cell, which happened to be in my room. He called until I answered.
Day 3:
I had just had a very amazing dream, when he cut into the middle of it with "Wake up!"
I decided it was an important dream, but I needed to process it half unconsciously for me to remember it, so I gave much effort into giving him a thumbs up. Too bad he ignored it and kept telling me to get up. "Give me five more minutes" "Two" he answered. By then I had forgotten, so he yelled a minute later "GET UP" from the kitchen so loudly I about peed my pants.

So we'll see how the rest of the week goes, haha. I love my dad. I just hate getting up in the mornings.

This is my newest blog.

Why? Because the old one is =P
And why is that? One, the layout. I prefer to design my own layouts, but I soon discovered that how I design it and what computer readers are viewing it from will mess it up from a regular sized screen to a laptop's widescreen. To fix this problem when I redesign this later, I'll either figure it out or make one blog for regular and another for wide, or I shall make a freewebs, or pay for my own website. The paying I think I'll hold off for now.

Two, the background wasn't very rainbow-y, and trying to get the layout I designed to line up with the code was annoying, so I decided I'd start fresh.

...and the thricely, I've come up with a new aproach for my blog. Instead of being all about the design and html, I'm going to be writing. For seriously, writing. It shall be comedic, tragic, romantic and hectic.

This layout is now permanent. I'm hoping to use one I've already designed, but I don't have the time or patience for it now.


So anyway...
I'm Rachel, a fifteen year old aspiring musician, author and actress.
I have a very easygoing yet dramatic personality, I love gianormous words, and elephants.
I'm an extremely busy homeschooler- don't let that throw you off, believe it or not, I'm social -in her sophomore year. I have huge dreams to follow God's will for me.

I'm also, as you can tell, not very good with spontaneous intros. This is my first and only draft, haha, I just felt suddenly compelled to let my writing journal be posted for all to judge. If you feel anythign at all to anything that I write, whether it be anger, fear or the random urge to go parasailing, please tell me!