Such is Life

The Only Blog On The Internet Born Of Tabasco Sauce...

Friday, September 29

Supposedly there was a cockroach on the 10-yard line

Tonight at the football game I spent some time talking to some foreign exchange students from Thailand. Apparently they don't know English all that well. One of them (I think her name is Kim) was telling me that she liked my hair but didn't like hers. I told her that I thought her hair was nice and shiny (really, what else can you say to people who are bashing themselves?) and for whatever reason, she thought I was saying it was "Chinese." So we spent like 5 minutes of her insisting she was Thai and me telling her that her hair really was shiny. Finally her guide, self-appointed friend, and translator (read: CaLyn) stepped in and explained to her what "shiny" meant.
Marching band tonight was sort of anticlimactic. Due to random cosmic reasons, this was my first year at homecoming, and everyone made such a big deal of marching that I thought it actually would be a big deal. Let me check: nope. We were on the field for what, 15 minutes?
I did have fun, though. The highlight of my evening was when my friend Karla (home visiting from Concordia) ran up to Mr. Melby and threw her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug. I suggested she do it, because hey, she doesn't go to BHS anymore, and she's just the kind of person that actually would. I don't know what was better: Melby's refusal to return the hug and remove his hands from his pockets, or the look of embarrassment on his face. It was priceless. By the way, I was really surprised when I found out that Mr. Melby takes dancing lessons with his wife. He seems so... well... I just can't picture him dancing, for example, the salsa and getting really into it. It's Mr. "My Heart Bleeds" Melby.

Monday, September 25

A pregnant goldfish is called a twit...

Tonight, while we were eating a gooey/greasy dinner at China Garden, my brother told me an amusing story about Mr. Dissel, his current biology teacher. Apparently there's a kid in the class who is "really weird" with a mohawk pulled into a ponytail, interesting wardrobe, etc. As Dissel was handing out tests today, he said, "Oh, and Bob? (or whatever the kid's name is) When you're done, turn your paper over and write your five life goals on the back, because I'm really curious as to what they are."
Right now I'm researching facts about Chile for our Spanish country project and I found a website with some strange facts:
  • It is physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky.
  • An estimated 23% of all photocopier faults worldwide are caused by people sitting on them and photocopying their buttocks.
  • Spider silk, by weight, is stronger than steel. Scientists are genetically engineering a breed of goat so that its milk can be turned into spider silk, then spun into ultra-strong ropes.
  • The embryos of tiger sharks fight each other while in their mother's womb, the survivor being the baby shark that is born.

Sunday, September 24

what the heck then, ole

I am nearly finished with my first concentration for my studio art class! This morning my dad and I were home for a bit, and I decided to show him what I was working on. I took my painting upstairs and let him look at it. He glances at it and goes, "What's that supposed to be?" I tried not to laugh. It's not like I'm a three year old trying to pass a purple scribble off for an african safari or something.
"It's abstract, dad. Everyone sees something different."
"Oh. Well this looks like two gun barrels and I see a bird over here."

Dang I love central Minnesota.

But without further ado, here's an unfinished sample. Just don't fricken tell me it looks like anything associated with hunting.

Saturday, September 23

"a little somethin-somethin"

It seriously made my day when I heard a middle-aged white weatherman say that once on TV.

Wow, this blog has been sooo slooow lately. I'm sorry about that- things have been crazy around here- but I'll remind you that I'm only responsible for 50% of the contributions on this blog.
So, instead of musing philosophically on recent events (like death) I'm going to reminisce a little.

Recent weather conditions have forced me to remember things from childhood I'd rather forget. That's right, I'm talking about the beloved school bus. Being a student who can't afford her driver's license, I'm stuck riding the bus to and from school everyday. While being the oldest one on board does have its advantages (such as dominating the coveted back of the bus), I've also been forced to experience the worst smell known to man: wet bus. People complain about wet dogs, but I can assure you that there is no nastier stench than that of dozens of sticky and damp elementary school kids crammed into a small area and breathing on each other. With all the rain we've had lately, it's been overpowering.

We've also been experiencing some interesting substitute drivers lately. I think school bus drivers are a truly unique race of people, and I'm never quite sure where they come from. The first one I can remember would drawl into the loudspeaker "Thar's ma babiees!" when we drove past her field of decrepit horses every day. The next one was awesome- we could do whatever we want, and once we paid her to run over traffic cones on the highway. Unfortunately, she got kicked off the route for one too many DUI's.
The next driver was a silent, bald man who I remember always had candy and assorted food stuck to his head that the kids had thrown around. For the last few years I've had a driver named Tammy, who acted all tough and mean but was really sweet and cared about her kids. She used to tell me stories of her weekends at the casinos and her wedding in Las Vegas. However, she retired last year and now we have substitutes, my favorite one being "Heart-Attack Jack," so named for his age, body type, and the rumor that he had a heart attack a week before driving our bus. Our dear friend HAJ didn't last long, but he loved to regale us with stories of how his pastor paints the back of his head like a pumpkin for Halloween each year.
I'm not even going to get started for now on the kinds of kids that ride the bus, but I'm sure more interesting stories will come out of my ridiculously long bus rides this year. Stay tuned.

Friday, September 15

my amazing sixth hour

I dropped ap music theory. Donesky. Over. No mas. Medin is totally awesome and I am going to LOVE ap studio art even more than I thought. I walked into the class, and the whole "punk art" group of people was a little staggering. But you know, minus smoking pot and obsessions with death, I fit in way better than I thought. I talked to my brother for a long time tonight on the phone (he lives across the country, you see, and is going to school), and he was like, "Of course you fit in with that class, Joolie. You're a tertin. We do two things well: art and procrastination." Why does the oldest sibling always have to know everything about everything? It was great. Basically I walk into class every day, slap on ze ipod and just jam and paint and whatever else I feel like. If we want to go outside, it's cool, if we want to start something new, it's cool; all we have to do is have 10 amazing works finished by may 5. My first concentration is going to be mixed media (paint and fine black marker) and will be five same-sized pieces; each will express a different level of consciousness. Thank you ap psych.

Tuesday, September 12

"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of chakra."

This blog is both hilarious and slightly pathetic, depending on how you look at it:

Also slightly pathetic: the state of confusion in AP Lang. I haven't met anyone yet that knows what's expected of them in that class. Things will work out, I guess. But how ironic is it that the kid who (I think) speaks English as a second language is the only one to get a 9/9 on the essay?

The only other thing I found vaguely interesting today was the fundraising presentation in band. Man, if I sell 7 magazine subscriptions by Monday, I get a CD rack that glows in the dark!

While I normally detest blog postings about music, I found three songs today that go really well with running:
Fiesta De Tambores by Andres Cabas
Jerk It Out by The Caesars
Clocks by Coldplay
I actually ran a little longer than I planned just to listen to the music.

Sunday, September 10

Que Rayos

An interesting fact about Julie's life: I seriously live with a swarm of non-killer bees. Every morning when I wake up there are at least four dead bees on my bedroom floor. Throughout the day they come in my room and crawl on my desk and books and EVERYTHING. It's creepy. Rache came over yesterday and started to move my psych book from the floor, and I was like, "NO!!! Don't do that!!" You see, all around my room books are scattered on the floor because everytime I find a bee on it, I drop the heaviest item I can find on it and leave it for the next three days. When I turn on my light it makes a "ZZzzzzZZZ" sound as bees burn to the lightbulb. I need to get out of here. My house is not insect-infected or something; it is pretty average and probably even cleaner than the average, except for the bees who somehow get only into my room and choose it as a place to die. This is especially weird because I live in the basement.

Oh, and I think I'm dropping ap music theory for ap studio art instead. Hm.

Friday, September 8

First... well, impressions anyway

I looked on Google to find quotes about "first impressions" that I could use on this blog, and found this:
The first time I passed through the country (Switzerland) I had the impression it was swept down with a broom from one end to the other every morning by housewives who dumped all the dirt in Italy
~Ernesto Sábato
Wow. Not exactly what I was reaching for, but it'll work.
Anyway, I know this is a rather hackneyed subject, but I thought I'd give my first thoughts on my teachers.

Mr. Pelkey: Tall, balding, Russian accents. Pretty good combination compared to, say, Blong's love of markers. And I think I'll always be grateful to Mr. Pelkey for finally satisfying my curiosity about how many licks it actually does take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.

Mrs. Niemi: I know she has a great reputation, but so far I've walked out of every class going, "That woman is psycho!" She always sounds like she's angry about something, and it throws me off how her voice emphasizes the most random words. And the hand gestures...? Picture about 6 finger quotes with the word "multicolored." Doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Still, I think I'll like her eventually.

Sra. Qualley: Definitely my favorite teacher so far. She's tiny and just sort of flits around the classroom like a chipmunk on crack. She is absolutely hilarious, and speaks Spanish at the perfect speed. I'm excited about this class.

Mr. Melby: It's Melby. Enough said. Nothing beats this affable and mustachioed legend.

Mrs. Lundgren: "OK! Sooo... Alright!"

Mr. Barnett: The man is a walking paradox. He appears to be a formidable Marine chiseled out of steel or perhaps discarded econ textbooks, but he has the voice of a Southern Yogi Bear. So confusing. And I have yet to figure out when the econ in econ class actually begins.

This will be an interesting year.


School. The day is pretty good overall, but it seems to go from AMAZING to horrible, even though it starts and ends with music classes. Sixth hour is really bad. AP Music Theory is an incredibly confusing amount of information every minute of class about ionian chords and dimished minor eleventh intervals and phrenian whatever. I mean, I thought that at least studying an instrument the last 6 years gave me some kind of clue as to music, but apparently I'm reatarded. Anyways, so Melby asks Joe T, who I am sitting next to, to sing any note and hold it. Joe T is in choir. Joe T sings. I don't. Not in front of people. Ever. I am listening and watching, but thinking about something else. BIG mistake. Melby points at me and says, "you." (in a class of 9 he doesn't know who I am) Me?! No, please! any god in the universe, not me! "You. Sing a perfect fifth above him. And you look like a soprano, so better take it up the octave." I would have rather he give me a gun and turn around. How do I make it through this class?

Tuesday, September 5

I couldn't resist...

Wow. Maybe we can do this... the Minnesota version would be with ice augers or chainsaws or something.

Monday, September 4

Anthropomorphism- It Makes Ants Happy

I heard today that Steve Irwin, AKA the Crocodile Hunter, died. Apparently he was filming a new special on dangerous animals, and as he swam above a stingray, it stabbed him in the chest.
"Gorgeous." The irony is killing me, although I'm sure no one else will get it.
Other than that, not a whole lot new here. This morning I made beds at my resort job for three hours- Julie and I of course got in trouble for not working fast enough. The funny thing is that when our employers get ticked off, they're the kind of people that smile bigger than usual while suggesting that we work just a little faster so we can keep up with everyone else. Wow. If you're ticked off at me, I'd rather you just say so, rather than acting like I'm just a poor misguided youth. I think I could kick their puppy and they would pat me on the back and say, "Honey, we'd prefer it if you would just pet the puppy next time... that's usually the way we do it around here."
After that I got to cut wood with my family. That was pretty routine... the only thing that was remotely interesting was that I hit my brother in the head with a flying piece of oak. Not hard, though.

Saturday, September 2

First Football Game

I can't claim to be a harcore Warriors fan (or really any kind of Warriors fan), but last night was disappointing no matter who you are. Except for this one moment: picture early-forties woman with mountain dew sitting at the bottom of the seniors' section posing as a highschooler with tight green stretch pants that say "touch down" on the booty. Unfortunately, because she is sitting down, all you see is the "touch" across her butt. We laughed hard. Tbs would have given us permission, I'm sure.

Friday, September 1

senior pics, baby!!

Here they are: the best of the best of our senior pics. Yeah, Rach is quite the chef. And paint-baller. She also can't wait for school to freakin start (obviously). I think her other hidden passions/talents include whistling with bluegrass music, walking through allies at night alone (definitely a skill), and building decks in her freetime. Julie, on the other hand, spends most of her days in therapy, but spends the remainder living out the hidden gangsta we all have buried inside. She is just in touch with hers. She also talks in the third person frequently.