Guys, Listen To This One

A guy came up to me this Friday and whispered, "Hey, Brandon likes you!" He then walked off.

My question is, what do I do with this information? Being told that a random guy likes you is about as helpful as a store clerk who, when asked what his recommended candy brand is, rattles off the contents of the last bag of M&Ms he ate. You can tell that his answer's in there somewhere, but this really doesn't help you make a decision, it only tells you that that particular clerk is an idiot, or at least not good at his job. Come to think of it, I like SweetTarts more anyway.

Whatever. Oh, and I've revamped the blog. Felt it needed a change.

*eats face*

Today after school Mom went shopping with Elf and Midget, nothing new. Mom came home with seven or eight bags of groceries, complaining about my siblings awful behavior. I helped Mom carry in the bags and set about unpacking them.

Elf and Midget, at this point, were playing with Silly Putty. As Mom and I unpacked eight bags of groceries. Seeing this, I demanded that they help us, and in reward (because this wouldn't be like, common courtesy or anything) they could get some ice cream. They reluctantly started to help.

Midget put away a jar of pickles and a box of cookies before she went back to playing with her Silly Putty and telling us when and where to put away the remaining five bags of food and toys, the latter being bought for the two small ones.

I (righteously!) told her to suck it up, stop moping about her apparently awful treatment, and do the same work that everyone else was doing. Mom also said that she wouldn't get any ice cream if she didn't help. Midget, pouting, then commenced to put away three cans of clam chowder. We then ate ice cream.

Am I the ONLY ONE who thinks that my little sister is a spoiled brat?

Hisspit

The parents had decided that since our family is "having some issues" (is totally and completely fucked up to the point of no return) that we needed a family therapist to help us.

Ermmm, what? Which incident caused this decision? We had House Meetings after I was attacked by Elf for the fifth time, and I got to steal Mom's laptop after I complained about it to Dad enough.

So why did we suddenly need a family therapist? Nothing'd changed, and no one is more or less crazy than we were six months ago. I really couldn't see how this would help at all, it seemed like a waste of money.

Whatever. See if I care. I couldn't say I like the fact that this woman (henceforth known as 'Ms. HippiGurl) wants to be our therapist because we're Christian/Jewish family with a Middle Eastern background, (I can hear it now. "You're not Muslim? How can it be?!" Muslim isn't a fucking race you morons!) but hey, she can't be THAT annoying, right?

HA! Yeah right! Ooh, this bitch is annoying. She has an airy, whispy voice can seemingly only speak in buzzwords. She sounds like a bad second grade substitute teacher. "Ok class, now we're going to READ this VERY INTERESTING BOOK about CALIFORNIA INDIANS!!"

Except now it's, "Let's TALK about the GOOD things about YOUR FAMILY and the things that ARE PROBLEMATIC." Yes. Problematic. Who the fuck says 'problematic' in everyday speak? Especially when you're talking to a mother, a teenager, a fourth grader with mental illness, and a first grader?

The kicker is that while she's "going to TALK to you ALL EQUALLY" she's also going to be interviewing the parents separately every other week and HA HA! all we talk about is Elf. (Because she can see that he "is affecting our energies in a very extreme way.")

Elf decided pretty early on (smart person that he is) that this was bullshit, and that he was leaving. Mom went up to his room to see if he would come down. The rest of the meeting was spent asking if he was going to come back so that Ms. ValleyGurl can interview him. And when she deems me worthy of speaking to, she isn't looking at me, she's staring up our stairs at his door.

When I told Ms. HippiGurl straight up that I gave the equality thing two weeks until we abandoned the pretense altogether, she hesitated for a moment, then said "Well, I, um, don't really see it that way, I see it as [insert reason here]." Then why, Madame Idiot, are you not looking at me when you say this, you are looking AT MY BROTHER'S DOOR? When I asked her this, she gave another typically weak response.

I then gave her a look. I am proud of that look. It was a good, strong, I See Right Through You And I'm Telling look. That was probably my best look yet. It was a historically amazing look.

In a weak defense, she said as she was leaving (and as Mom was coming down the stairs) that she wanted to let me know that "profane words would not be tolerated". Remember those buzzwords? She wanted me to know that if it "got out of hand" she would "have to remind me to stop".

Ms. HippiGurl, if you are reading this I would like you to know that we are now officially at war. You are not worthy of my respect or time and you will know it. I will stop at nothing to get you out of my house and out of my life. You are not to ask me any more questions about me or my experiences until you give me good reason to believe that you are not here just to interview Those Weird Muslim People Who Have That Crazy Son. You prove to me you are not here just because you can be here. You prove yourself worthy of my respect and cooperation, and I will help you.

Until then, I shall do everything in my power to destroy you. You will try and you will fail to bring me around, and I will taunt you while it happens. I will kick you when you're down.

My Alarm Clock Got a D-

Remember my missing alarm clock that I lost? It turns out that Dad threw it.

Sometimes I forget to turn off my alarm before going into the shower. I don't try to, I just do. Well, this time Dad was the one to turn it off, but he couldn't find the off button in the dark (he didn't want to turn on the lights and wake up more). So he fiddled with a few dials and threw it across the room.

So my alarm clock got a D- in the helpfulness department.

I however, got my progress report back. A, A-, A-, A-, B, B-.

I was near tears.

I usually get all A's. This time I only got one, the A in PE. PE!!!! That doesn't even count!

To top it all off, I was convinced that I was going to get KILLED when I came home. That I would have to 'take a walk' with dad, one of those that started out innocent but always strayed to the topics that I was either a) not comfortable with or b) didn't have an opinion on.

Then Mom was late picking me up by *cough* 40 minutes *cough*. A lovely way to spend 40 minutes, really it is.

So by the time I get in the car I'm miserable. Then of course I had to tell Mom my grades, and I did, as quickly as I could. When Mom cought on to how dismal my mood was, she reassured me that I wasn't in trouble, and I believe her.

Sigh.

Still wasn't fun though.

EDIT: ARGH!!! I can't get the font sizes to match. It looks weird. Grr.

So Weird.

Today is the first day of school and I have already lost 2 things: My alarm clock and my mind. The clock, a white, evil, square thing, has gone missing. Since I knew I would be tired this morning, I had set it to 5am to take a shower.

When I get back from my shower and make my bed, I know that at least an hour and a half has passed, because that's how long it takes for all the hot water to run out. But when I look to check the exact time, the clock is gone. Didn't fall under the bed, into the dresser, or anywhere else on that side of the room.

As I try to figure out what happened, I realize that I don't remember any of this morning before I went into the bathroom. I don't remember grumbling about the time, or throwing off the dozen or so blankets, or stomping over to my chair to put on my robe.

Most disturbingly of all, I don't remember my alarm clock going off. Usually I fight with the snooze button for a while, but I don't recall it ever ringing.

Somehow, I got up a 4:30am (half an hour before it rang), took a shower that lasted at least 90 minutes, and in that space of time lost a clock.

How the fuck do you loose a clock? I don't carry it around with me, and it hasn't fallen into or under me bed. If it didn't go off in my room, maybe someone took it into theirs? Who the hell would steal an alarm clock?

So strange. Anyway, I must go and get dressed. In the meantime, I will continue my Clock Hunt.

Here we go again...

Elf attacked me again today. It happens every so often, and always when Mom's gone. This time, she was out picking up Midget from daycare. He was yelling at the computer for 'not being fair' and 'cheating', when really he just wasn't doing very well at the game. Also, I had just gotten the mouse and tablet thrown at my head.

Getting sick of hearing the same two sentences shouted at full volume for ten minutes, I told him to shut up, and that he was being stupid.

His response was to run screaming into the room to attack me. This has happened before, so I know what it feels like to be hit and kicked repeatedly. So I did what I always did: tackled him. He reached up and tried to punch my face, so I bit him, turned him on his side, held his hands, and locked his legs.

By this time we were screaming curse words at each other full volume. He told me to get off, I told him no fucking way in hell because I didn't want to get killed. He said look who's talking, I told him that if he promised to not hurt me I'd let him go. No way in hell, he responded. "Fine. We'll just stay here then." With that I pinned both his knees with one of mine and stuck the other in his gut. I also told him that if he didn't shut the fuck up I was going to punch him in the nose.

He kept trying to hit me, so I grabbed the offending hand and took to twisting his wrist until he put it down. Eventually, with much more cursing, he said that he wouldn't hurt me, just to get my knee off of him. So I did, and he stormed upstairs.

Later he came back downstairs and blamed me for a nosebleed as I was searching for the elusive tablet. Interestingly enough, I never touched his head, at least not that I can remember, since he didn't say much after I threatened to flatten his face. Later Mom came home. They're still talking. I have to admit being worried that he'll try to hit her next.

Idiot sibling.

My day was going good too! I had just started a Step Aerobics class hosted by one of my school's PE teachers, and it was really fun! Then an hour later I have to deal with this shit.

This is why I envy single children. Well, Midget's getting a LOT better, but Elf's behavior is scary. I'm starting to not want him at school any more, he's too dangerous. I know that sounds mean, even traitorous, but I've been in a good number of full out wars with him, and that's probably the only reason I don't have bruises covering most of my legs, torso, arms, and face. He was suspended for two days today, BTW. He pushed another student and kicked another aid. Lovely. Mom told me it was provoked by someone saying that they were winning.

Excuse me? I am teased daily by people I have NEVER MET because they're friends say I'm mean/stuck up/smart ass/etcetera and I have never attacked someone. Ever. Ever ever ever. Mom and Dad say that it's because basically his brain's fucked up and mine's fine, but you know what? I really do not care any more. That's what they say about bullies too, interestingly enough. That's what he's becoming-a bully. And if it's inevitable, why don't they TELL HIM so that he KNOWS to try and COOL IT once and a while. Not telling him only makes it so he doesn't know what to change. And if they have told him? Tell him again until he gets it because obviously something's not gotten through.

I still get sad and embarrassed when I hear that he's acted up again. I'm constantly worried it's going to reach the Middle School and I'm going to have to hear it over and over and over and over again. His existence is becoming threatening and you know what? If he had to hear who I bruised every other day, why I got suspended, who's gossiping about me now? He'd lose it! He doesn't have the embarrassment of living knowing that one day someone's going to say,

"Oh, do you have a sister?"

I'm pretty sure I'm the only child in the group that's had that happen to them. He's affecting the way I spend my free time now. I need my time alone, but I used to at least go downstairs sometimes. Now I hide in my room and wait until he loses it. Then maybe I come downstairs. I don't want to be caught in another fight.

Of course, since I'm hiding, the only person Elf has to beat up is Midget, and she can't defend herself. She gets punched, he marches upstairs saying that it isn't fair that he- the most important person in the world -is being punished. And when he comes downstairs everyone acts like nothing happened. Because really? Midget's becoming a punching bag and everyone knows it. And it's so common that it isn't a big deal any more.

Just great. Just fucking great.

Excuse Me?

Excuse me? What exactly gave you the right to yell at me? What miracle have you preformed that makes you that much better than me?

If you haven't already noticed, I haven't had the best day, starting with lunch.

In my school, you can either eat lunch in the cafeteria or outside on these wooden tables. There are about six of them, and they're pretty ordinary. But some people get possesive about which table is 'theirs'. It's a bit more clear cut in the cafeteria, my group, as small as it is, has their side, another sub-group takes the other. But the wooden tables aren't used much because our school is right near the Carquinez Straights, so there's usually a decent breeze.

The entire thing actually started last week, when my friends Nikki (fellow 7th grader) and I sat down at a wooden table after we finished eating. We had been sitting for about fifteen minutes when a huge group (twelve or so) of black girls came along.

According to them, we were sitting at 'their table' and we had to move.

Excuse me? Madam bitch? We were FUCKING HERE FIRST and that you have NO RIGHT to behave like we are enroaching on your 'property'.

Unfortunatly I cannot say that to them because they are all eighth graders e.g. taller, stronger, faster, and coarser (langauge, manners) than I am. You do not mess with eighth graders.

So instead we politely say, "I'm sorry, I don't want to do that right now."

In response we get a stream of cuss words and threatening behavior. Much of the time is spent saying that we should get up because we are 7th graders and that they are 8th.

Eventually, Nikki gets bored- yes, bored. Nikki is awesome like this -and tells one of the many girls sitting on the table (which isn't allowed, btw) that we'll leave if she says please. So she does, and we do.

Today, we had finished eating. The school library was closed and we had finished our homework, so we started talking about out SSR books.

Then Madam Bitch and her Bitchetts wander over. Again, we are sitting on 'thier table'. Again, we refuse to move. Also, we aren't talking enough to Kim, a shy African American girl who sits at our table. This time, since my friend Karolyn, an 8th grader, is with us, they use a different resoning: we should move/talk because we're white.

Oh. My. FUCKING. God.

We have spent MONTHS covering the Civil War. MONTHS. Slavery STOPPED. DONE (in North America).

So what exactly gives you the right to say that you're better than we are because you're black? Hmm? Give me a reason.

And about Kim: she DOES NOT WANT to talk. I've known her for two years and she's alway been quiet. We try to include her in conversations, but if she doesn't want to speak we don't force her.

This time when we do not immediately bow to their whim, they start cussing at us.

"Move the HELL off of our FUCKING table bitches!"

"Oh, Carolyn, why are you friends with 7th graders? Too much of a loser to find any good friends?"

And, my personal favorite:

"Come on four-eyes, move your butt."

When someone calls someone wearing glasses 'four-eyes', it really is pathetic. I mean, there isn't a more overdone insult in the world. It's not even insulting any more.

The one that really pissed me off was-

"Let me put it the white way: Please get up?"

What.

Who the hell do you think you are? You waltz over here to demand that we do something we don't want to do, then say that being polite isn't in style?

Or that having lighter skin is something to be ashamed of?

This is the Civil Rights movement all over again. People think that the past can govern the future and that it's all right to tell someone that they aren't worthy of respect.

People think that others aren't allowed to do something because of their ethnicity. That if you have skin that isn't dark enough than you have to change your clothing, friends, and speech to make up for it.

That is what the entire Getto movement is, you know. Feeling the need to change from peer pressure.

What's worse is, after the counseler chased- chased, because they wouldn't leave -the gang away, Kim tried to apologize.

I think Nikki put it best:

"Don't apologize for stupid people. Because if you're smart enough to see how idiotic they are, than you can just laugh at them like the rest of the world."



Please note that I only call African-Americans 'black' when I do not like them, this is not normal behavior for me.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

Omfg, this will never work.

Take a look at that link. A good, long look.

Now tell me: who would you say buys the most clothing-small children, teenagers, or adults?

Teenagers, of course. Now tell me, what sane teen would EVER buy ANYTHING like that? (Note, I said sane teens, not high-and-all-mighty-servants-of-the-lord teens, because I've seen those ones and they scare me.)

Whoever made these products is clearly an idiot. The largest clientel (I dunno how that's spelled), teenagers, wouldn't go within two miles of those. Those suits look unattractive and uncomfortable. They are ugly. They are hideous.

And they're the one thing I don't think of when I think 'swimming'--formal. They're the church outfits of the ocean, the Quaker costumes of the pool. Nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty things.

And, unfortunately for the kids who were forced to model, they scream, "EVANGELICAL, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED"

Not the message you want to give for that end-of-year pool party with all of the bullies there, is it? Think, asking for it? Bringing it on? Entry #1 in 'How To Get Teased For the Rest of Your Natural Life'?

Bleargh. Hate those suits. Hatehatehatehatehate.

In other news:

Generally I got a good reaction about the clothing switch. Those who told me it looked horrible never liked me in the first place, so that doesn't count.

Chelsea started loaning me Shojo manga, or girl comics. I didn't think I'd like them, but they are addicting-- my personal favorites are Punch! and Vampire Knight. Yumm. Hot guys. And I don't even like guys- they leave a lot to be desired. I'm fine with how some (SOME!!) of them look, but ye gods tact and manners are not in their vocabulary.

If insulting me is a male's way of saying 'I'm interested in you', males need some new tactics. NOW. As in, overnight change kind of right now. Strangle them all!

ANYWAY-

I love the style of the Shojo artists. They use more chibi's and 'super expressions' than Shonen artists, manga artists aimed at male audiences. The plot lines, to me, seem to vary more also. There aren't any repetitive 'I'm going to hurt you bad!' fightfightfightfightfight 'Damn, that was hard! Now to go rescue that girl wearing the short skirt that tripped over the carpet in ch.3!' fall in love, kiss scene, luurrvve scene in R rated comics. Females are usually limited to 'Watch out ____!' roles, and aren't very intelligent. All girls have big boobs and tiny waists. All people are 1-30 years old.

Now, obviously Shojo artists have repetitions too. There seems to be one 'attractive male' look, and most artists just borrow from this style, with only hair and clothing details separating male characters. Females seem to have a bit more flexible design, usually with HUGE eyes and a lot shorter than the corresponding hero/date/lover. Also, for some reson all guys have big hands with long fingers. Strange.

The panel construction trophy, however, goes directly to Shojo. The setups are more dramatic, and the camera angles more varied. Diagonal panels are actually used. It is unusual to see an overcrowded panel as there is no extra 'EEEEEERRRRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!' speeches to clutter things up. The suspense is actually suspenseful, no 'But how?!?!?!?!' here.

In conclusion, we likey! I am really happy with my makeover and am reading some really interesting stuff.

That's all, folks!

Can I Come Home Now?

I just came home from a sleepover at my friend Nikki's that would've been a hell of a lot more fun if I was able to get back into my own house.

We had stayed up until 2:30 talking about random stuff so we, naturally, slept in. I didn't get a good night's sleep because I slept on the chair and was all stiff in the morning. By 1 (in the afternoon) I was up though, and by 2:30 I wanted to come home.

Mom had left to go pick up Elf from camp AGAIN, which she has had to do for the past four days in a row. This left her on the highway facing an hour there, an hour talking there, and an hour drive back. The front door to the house was locked, but our garage has a side door that you can get to through the backyard. To get into the backyard you have to open a wooden door that's hidden in the fence surrounding the house. I knew I would be fine once I got in, but I needed Dad's permission to get dropped off since Mom wasn't available.

I knew Dad wouldn't like this, it's one of his quirks that if you ask a favor that could be held off he gets PO ed. I still really wanted to go home though, so I risked the lecture that was to come about inconveniencing hosts and called him. I got permission after a few "You know I'm not really happy about this" sentences. This made me indignant because that meant he was going to barge in on me right before bed and give me the long drawn out argument that he so dearly wanted to annoy me with.

I get let off and go to open the fence door but can't because the wood has swelled and is stuck. So now I must go back with Nikki for another hour in August weather until Mom gets home, approximately a hour and a half later. I am not pleased by this in the slightest.

Let us note that if either of my siblings were stuck a search and rescue mission would be activated to 'Protect the Younger' and to 'Avoid Aggravating Their Sensitive Mental Structure'. With me it's 'You're the Eldest, Deal'. I know this is not fair. No, life isn't fair Dad, that's your excuse for dragging me all sorts of places I don't want to go. So let's just clear the air: I DON'T CARE IF IT ISN'T FAIR, I KNOW YOU CAN PROVIDE IT SO DO SO. I KNOW THIS AND YOU DON'T WANT TO ACKNOWLEDGE IT.

Midget (youngest) is too 'fragile' and 'delicate' to risk. Elf is too 'unstable' to out in any sort of harassing treatment. Midget breezes through everything because she's cute, and all the teachers love her for it. So she's a suck up, so what? It I pulled anything near the stunts she does I'd be grounded for a month! I do well in school because I'm intelligent and that's it, I don't need to be cute to go far.

Elf has been diagnosed with a mental health problem, good for him. This gets him the best of everything, teacher of his choice, curriculum modification, therapy, whatever. He only has his best friends around him at every given moment to make sure he doesn't behave like a newborn idiot. I was teased and taunted by a group of seven girls ALL LAST YEAR and I was the one who sat in the passenger seat when Mom broke down because Elf was being an idiot. This happened once a month all last year. I had a problem twice a day with the same group that all of the student knew of because they were such bitches and then I get home and Mom starts sobbing. That's not the time to tell her the reason your jacket has footprints on it, now is it?

Anyway, after getting lunch and spending twenty minutes in the hot sun putting up a tent which I will never see again, I called Mom's cell to see if she was home or still on the road. No reply. Then I called home to see if she was home. No reply. I was let off again to ring the doorbell to see if she was home. No reply.

Since there was no evidence of Mom being home, we started driving to her grandparent's house. If I had gotten there I would've had to stay another hour and a half until I could go home. It was now 5pm. I was near tears as we started driving. I just wanted to go home. It wasn't fair.

Mom then called and said she was home. Finally, something good! Praying she meant 'home' not 'really close to home' I asked again, "So you're home? I rang like twenty seconds ago." What a got was a yell of "Well SORRY I was in my room, couldn't come hear!"

Gee thanks Mom, that's really what I wanted to hear after being stuck somewhere I didn't want to be for three hours. That really makes my day.

FINALLY getting home, TWO HOURS AND FORTY-FIVE MINUTES AFTER I WANTED TO I started a summary of my experiences she started yelling at me again.

"You know what, I'm sorry! I know I don't sound like I'm sorry (got that right) but I am! I was on the phone when you first called (talking about Elf's ever-so-important meltdown I bet) and i called (goes on ranting for the next two minutes)"

I am now making a point to say to my parents, who will eventually read this I know, not to kill me because I wrote this. I wrote this so I wouldn't start screaming at you at dinner that I'm underappreciated. I wrote this so I wouldn't start crying at randomly like I almost did three times during my typing of this. Dad, I know you're going to lecture me, try not to make it so circular, OK? I get it the first time.

Now that I am in really hot water for writing what I think, I will sign off and wait for the confrontation to come. Oh, goody.

OMG I'm Going to KILL the Dog(s)

I just had a little adventure involving our dog, Hobbes, and out neighbor's dog, Shadow. Here's the backstory: Shadow has been coming in and out of our backyard through the hole he dug under the fence to play with Hobbes. Fine by us, he was getting exercised. Whenever Shadow came, we closed the back door so they couldn't play in the house and destroy it. Shadow's parents, our neighbors, were usually OK with this, but sometimes slightly peeved that their dog wasn't listening to them and was escaping into our backyard.

Now for what went wrong today.

Mom and I had just gone on an errand and she had gone to go pick up Elf (my younger brother who has Autism and can be very violent) from camp early because he had attacked a counselor. Nothing new, but she still needed to go down. Dad is always working, and Midget (my youngest sibling, my baby sister) was also at camp. I was alone in the house with Hobbes.

I went upstairs to my room to listen to my iPod. Before I put it in, I heard a kthump thump kthump BAMMM!!! These sounds were accompanied by scratching and whining sounds. Hobbes, the only other creature that was supposed to be in the house, only made these sounds when he wanted to go outside to play with Shadow. The BAMMM!!! however, was from a large creature crashing head-on into my door. I peeked out of my room to see a very excited Shadow. This dog, mind you, is supposed to be outside with our dog so they DON'T DESTROY OUR HOUSE.

It turns out Mom had left the back door open when we left and had never closed it. Shadow had wriggled through the hole he had dug, ran to join Hobbes, and ran inside. Hobbes had followed. In the process Hobbes' new toy had been grabbed by Shadow. Shadow and Hobbes had run throughout the house fighting for it, finally ending up crashing into my door.

'Ok,' I thought, 'that was odd, but no worries. Shadow'll leave eventually, and I'll tell Mom how those crazy nutcases had come in.' I went back up to my room.

The placement of all the rooms in the house is rather odd, they're all on the second floor. My room is 24'/12' (big room) and makes up the entire front side of the house. I overlook the driveway, the front door, and our lawn. So when three strange people who I had never seen before came out of our neighbor's house and began to walk up the driveway, past the lawn and to our front door, they were clearly in my sight.

I went back downstairs to open the door and ask who they were. They were, in fact, our next door neighbors, who owned Shadow, and wanted their dog back. The group of three consisted of a mother and two boys, around 2nd or 3rd graders. I went back into the house to see if I could grab Shadow by myself with Hobbes darting around. I could not. I called to her for help getting her dog, forgetting momentarily that she had no control over Shadow and that was why I went to catch him in the first place. I think she thought that our family had any more control over him. We did not.

I tried to usher only Shadow or only Hobbes into the house so we could catch them. When I opened the door, they both hopped in. Now I was starting to worry. I got Hobbes by the collar, and, to my luck, it slipped off. Hobbes ran opposite the back door, namely, toward the front door, which the two 3rd grade boys had left open. Shadow then jumped up and grabbed Hobbes' collar that was hanging out of my hand and starting running after Hobbes. Shadow's mom had had no luck whatsoever catching her dog, and Shadow kept running to the front door.

"Close the door!!" we shouted. "Why?" the two boys shouted back. We rounded the corner to see the two large dogs running out of the door. The neighbor's group all immediately ran outside, and I did too, cursing the fact that I didn't have any shoes on. I got there in time to see the tow partners in crime galloping gleefully down the street.

Hobbes had run off before. He never usually got far because Mom was there to yell at him to come back. Mom was not home, she was on the highway. After realizing that there was no way I could do this without shoes on, I ran back inside and slipped on the first pair I could find, a pair that belonged to Mom and were way too big for me. I also picked up the phone and started dialing Mom's cell phone number as I ran back out the door.

By this time our neighbor across the street had noticed, mostly because he had been outside working on his car while this was going on. Now he was also gazing down the street at the two canines, who were happily peeing on the trees down the street that were about 20 yards away. There was no way I could run that far in the shoes I was wearing without alerting the dogs, so I stood on our driveway and listened to Mom's garbled instructions. The most I really got out of it was where Hobbes' leash was.

The trio of people who owned Shadow had gone back inside to find his treats, listening to out across the street neighbor's advice about luring them back. I was now basically alone on how to get a dog that weighed as much as I did (120 lbs) back into our house. I called Mom back and she said that he would 'walk away for awhile and then come when you called'.

Deciding that I had no chance at this without his leash I went back inside to get it, a read leather strap with a loop at one end and a clasp at the other. Mom had also said that I 'was going to have to make it into a collar by wrapping the leash around his neck and hooking the loop onto the clasp'. To do this, I first had to get close enough to Hobbes. That started with figuring out where the HELL he was. Running down the street in Mom's ill-fitting shoes, I found him sniffing someone's bushes.

Calling him over and praying that something went right, I managed to hook the leash and grab it so it was tight enough to pass as a collar. I half walked, half dragged him back over to our street and close to our house. I saw the Trio waiting for me there.

"Where's Shadow?!?" I yelled, still around 15 yards from home.

"Locked up inside out house, he's not getting out!" they hollered back.

I finally got Hobbes back inside our house and away from Shadow. That was around half an hour ago. I hope Hobbes's happy with that taste of freedom (more like a full meal in my mind), because he's not getting another for a LONGGGGG time if I have anything to say about it.

Saul

Mom has posted much on my little brother Saul, who was student-teacher bullied in school.

I am going to swear here, those of faint heart do not read this post.

Read my mom's posts about Saul to understand my anger better, they're under 'Kidlets'. Link to the blog's at the bottom of page.

For those who haven't her posts read yet, you will not understand.

To arms then.




The bitch who hurt my brother is to die by burning in Neo's Paradise at 11:00 pm tonight. In the real world nothing will be done about it, though they will try, because they tried with the student-student bullying and that didn't work either. She will be held possibly in contempt but very likely not because Mom will not be able to talk the the idiots and reason with them and start crying in the car and I will say she'll get through it while silently agreeing.

Seriously, I'm not feeling too happy now. Those of faint hearts STOP, and since the faint-hearted usually are the ones who flame excellent works of art because they have no other line of defense.


That bitch is giving my little brother nightmares. She is to die. The best I can hope for in the real world is Her to be Fired, but then she will get the retirement benefits.


She will die.

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Stupid insolent sons 'a BITCHES!!!!

This crew of workers across the street have thier radio blasting the Backstreet Boys full blast!! My room is on the SECOND FLOOR with ALL WINDOWS CLOSED and I can hear them!!!!!!!!!!!

You are supposed to sleep (or pretend to) until 11:00 am, not 8:45 when IDIOTS dicide to put on a radio!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Photoshop's DA BOMB!!!!

I got Photoshop Elements and a tablet (a penpad that connects to the computer) about a month ago, but only now can I show the picture I've been working on. That's it up there, if you haven't already figured it out. No I did not trace or copy ANYTHING!!!! I don't know why people always think that. Why am I not allowed to just be a talented 12 year old? Is that so hard? That's my pose, my coloring, my backgrounds, my outlining, my 6-8 hours of work.

School ended (thank god), and now I have the rather daunting task of breaching the subject of home schooling (again, already discussed and on haitus in fall of past 9 1/2 monthes of hell called 6th grade). I know Mom can teach me more than the Ms. Dodini's of Middle School. (Not that Ms. Dodini hated me of course. I was one of the class favorites, and therefore the enemy of every sixth grader on campus as she kept on giving them summer school as she gave me 'A+'s on everything whether I did it or not.

Being asked by complete strangers if I liked Ms. Dodini, usually by kids originally from a different school (as all five 5th grade populations from the five different elementary schools attended the same Middle *cough*HELL*cough* School) or by 7th or 8th graders that had siblings in 6th grade and came to bug me about the fact that not only was I bored in English-Dodini, but I was bored and I was getting A's in English-Dodini.

I really don't like being bullied by people of the opposite gender, wearing faux leather with faux silver spikes and a neon green mohawk, I really don't. I don't like being teased because I don't need or even WANT to about the latest slang. I want to learn about the Chinese Han Dynasty, damn it, and that's IT.

I still like the picture though. :)