"yikes, sheas a bewt"

I was about to go outside today when I thought to myself, "I'm gonna see something cool". I stopped in the doorway and went back to find my camera. I always listen to those feelings, except when they say, "Kill" and "Steal a car", bad ideas. But today's twilight zone advice paid off. I went back in the woods for a little bit, but nothing was happ'nen. Looking for golf balls to throw somewhere, I heard a rustle in the leaves. I looked around and bam...snake. It was about 2 feet long, not a megaloceros by any means, but hey, its a snake. It was a garndner snake, pretty much the Dennis Kuchinich of North American snakes. Small and non-venomous. So going after it was a win-win. Get bit, show off my scar. Catch it, show off the pictures.

So there it was out in the open, and it spotted me. It took off, but I knew it had nowhere to 'run'. My Jeff Corwin insticts kicked in, and, seeing as I didn't have a stick, I knew I would have to go with my hands. My hand eye coordination isn't quite up to par, and snakes are fast as shit. This might have been tough if I didn't have my years of Discovery/Animal Planet experience. Luckily, I knew that when it coiled it was about to strike, and I quickly got my hand out of there. This was no Black Mamba, but it was attacking like Biden on Guliani last night. It was all over the place. Everytime I got close he coiled and bit at me, his red tounge sniffing the air, or my fart. HAHAHA I got him good. Just kidding. But like I said, he was pissed. Like a cat I grabbed him right behind the head, a move that took some real cahones. He tried to bend his head back and get at my fingers, but it was useless. I have fingers like bear traps. After getting my trophy picture below, and as I began to literally scare the shit out of him, I let my new woodland buddy go. It was the right thing to do, after all, I wouldn't keep a bitchy snake that like one. Word. And just for the record that picture makes him look really small, which he was, but he fought like a champion.

Megaloceros- latin for "check yourself before you wreck yourself"

Julie, Jelso, and I were coming home from playing a pretty lame game of kidnapped last night. It had been drizzling all day, which mad kidnapped extremely muddy which hence made my car extremely muddy. But anyways Julie said something about driving through a puddle when I spotted two eyes down the street. I flashed my brights and saw it was a doe (girl deer for all you "I'm too cool to care about Michigan animals" people out there). A few minutes before I thought to myself that we would probably see some deer or sasquatch, and eliminating sasquatch, I determined we would probably see deer. They're at the house all the time. Before the days started getting noticably shorter you could practically time when they would pass through the backyard, so it was no suprise to me when at 10:14 we spotted the first deer crossing the street into the vacant lot. My biology sense was tingling: does rarely travel alone, plus they wouldn't be bedded down in the rain. With no regard for any possible oncoming traffic, I T-boned the street and shined my lights into the yard. There were four does in the yard just hanging out. Nothing too out of the ordinary, except I thought I spotted something towards the back. As the other deer began to walk away into the woods, the shape came closer and into the light. It was a buck, only the second I had ever seen. In all my years at 468hundo Pickford, I had only seen 1, count it, 1 buck- and it barely counted, not very masculine. But this was a haus. Immediately as I pulled into the old driveway I could sense Jelso's fear, and I noticed him shivering in the back seat. Once I reassured him it wasn't Mrs. Vala he came around. I couldn't make out too many details at first, it was raining and dark out, but the deer came closer. As he walked diagonally closer to us I could tell his antlers were big. The one time I don't bring my camera with me something actually important happens, but the picture of megaloceros (native to Scotland and Westen Europe during the Ice Age) above closely resembled our spotting. Jelso and I tried to figure out if it was a 6 or 8 or maybe even 10 point. We finally decided it was a 4x4. Then it hit Jelso; an 8 point deer could really do some damage to a car. He actually thought for a second the monster was going to charge us. It was a valid fear, but belive me, I just got the car out of the shop and I would have hand to hoof wrestled/killed it before he thought about going at my windsheild. I will say that the deer seemed extremly tame, as it kept eating and gave us the occasional ear flick. I felt disrespected, not that I would blatantly hurt a deer, but it doesn't know that, it ought to be scared of me. So anyway, as Julie sat mesmorized, and as Jelso convulsed in the back seat, I watched the deer walk into the woods following the others.

We came back to my house and watched Storm Chasers in the basement. We weren't in a TIV (tornado intercept vehicle), nor were we chasing thunderstorms capable of producing tornadoes across northern Texas, but we did see a big, big deer. The similarities are too obvious to point out in greater detail. As I drove the remaining hundred or so yards to my own home, I worried if mom had let Louis out that night. A beautiful deer like that would be a shame to loose. Word.

XC II

Once again, today was an extremely sucky day to run around a cross country meet in shorts. But guess what- Nelson Mandela had a sucky job for a while, so did Ghandi, and you know what- even Heffner did, well no, not really. But my point is that even when you're job sucks, you do it. We weren't fighting against apartheid, the caste system, or bath robe rights, but our job was still important. Cheer the girls cross country team to a resounding victory that would echo around the hills of Hines Park for decades to come.

After school I wandered over to Bert's car with Tripp and J-Lo. We hung out in the parking lot, but I couldn't relax. I knew the time I had been trained, groomed, and did those couple sit ups for was close...really close. I tried to joke it off, by my punch lines were falling lame as I couldn't get our duty, our obligation out of my head. Finally we piled into the car, stopped at the red light, proceeded with a left turn onto six mile and we were off. 45 mph never felt so fast. I was on pure adrenaline. We pulled into Bert's driveway and immediately got to work. We changed and headed out onto the driveway where we could paint in peace. We must have looked like total flamers to the busdriver who dropped kids off across the street and passed us three times that afternoon, but none of us care. We were totally willing to lay our dignity on the line.

As Noel stroked my stomach with orange paint, I couldn't help but hope nobody I know would see me. But that's the problem. I never want to be that douchebag in public who yells and is totally obnoxious: something was going to have to change. I would be screaming half naked with other men at a cross country meet. I was a little aprehensive.

Back to the paint. We had essentially a whole 'nother hour and a half to get primed for this meet than the previous one and we took full advantage of it. Every last detail, every last t-shirt modification, every last face paint streak. It was perfect. We even managed to put the letters in the right order this time, and my face paint was awesome. But this week we decided to step our shit up a level. How could we possibly do that? Rip our clothes off at the starting line. Dave and Tripp bought some XXXL hanes undershirts, which were barely big enough for my swimming muscles and huge ego, but they fit. Tripp looked like a little kid in a ghost costume- the one your mom makes out of a pillowcase and enters you into the halloween costume contest with. Anyway we primed our shirts for easy ripoffability. I managed to cut slits so the holes weren't obvious, but extremely strategic. The pants were a different story. It looked like a panther attacked me, but only my legs. There were gashes in my warm up pants all over. Lucky I didn't stab my leg with the scissors.

Game time. We wandered up to the starting line, and found an open space. The reason it was open was because we were standing right in the runners' line: oops. We were 'politely' asked to move as we chanted north-ville really really loud. Then came the time. All the girls were obviously disappointed that we didn't paint, after all we had our pants and t-shirts. All of the sudden we went king kong on our cotton and ripped that shit off. Jelso growled and berti just flexed his pecs and his shirt flew, I mean flew, off. I got the shirt off fine, but only half my pants ripped. I'm sure I could have ripped the other half, but I didn't. Everyone else threw their pants in every direction while I tried to get the leg off my foot. Then it really started. All the parents were looking at us as we bounced in no particular rythm yelling. It felt really good. Then the 'gun' went off and it was on. We sprinted to the 1 mile and got there in like 2 minutes. From there we went somewhere else, not too bad. But then came the finish, which was way far away-very very far away. But like Ghandi I too persevered and we got there in time. We yelled until I had to breathe again, but lack of oxygen couldn't stop my need to fufill my obligation, no, my gift. I yelled and yelled, and together the six of us were cocky x10. At the end we saw the Stevenson sideline, and guess what we did. We avenged our soccer team. Those same asses that promised a Stevenson victory were there, and we yelled across the park things like, "Stevenson sucks" and "How did you're team do Saturday, oh yeah, you lost...to us" We were outnumber alot to a little, but so was Leonitus. We casually walked back to the car in sheer joy. Mission accomplished. Ohh, and to all of you who wanted pictures. Yes. Word.

the farm

Today was another dreary monday, not weather wise but in every other respect. Nothing important/good really happens on mondays. I mean sure, World War 2 was important and stopping Nazis was definately good, but when was the last time you were really excited for monday. Maybe its just me, I don't know, but mondays in general suck. All of this sucking led me to daydream about going to the farm, one of my favorite places, coming in right above waterparks and just slightly below Heaven. Anyway, the name is misleading since its not a farm, and to my understanding never was. Sure, I heard my grandpa bought some goats one time on a whim, but no corn or anything like that, just an old house. But I love that house, the red shag carpeting of my youth, the hard water, the dead mice in the basement, and that signature smell. From my description it sounds borderline infested, but let me tell you, after the squirell got in the window Aunt Sally and Uncle Tom fixed it up quite nicely. Anyway, I've been longing to go back, since we normally only make it out at Thanksgiving. I know what you're thinking: what is out there that makes the farm more fun that a waterpark? Everything. First of all, its pretty much on like a conservative million acres of woods which makes everything more fun. When was the last time you were lost, and I mean really lost in the woods? My time was at the farm. When was the last time you saw a turkey? Mine wasn't at the farm, but it could have been. When was the last time you rode a mini bike up a tree stump? Eric did last year and almost died- that was funny. You see the farm is the place where those stories you tell for years originate. I remeber the giant bass I caught there in Trout Pond. I must have insisted I take it home to show everybody, so we got a bucket, filled it with water, and put it in the back seat. Bad idea. As I got my fries from McDonalds out of the bag, the monster splashed and soaked my burger/shirt. We filleted that son of a bitch, but didn't eat it. I remeber the time I blew the brains out of a squirell. I shot it and it twitched, I panicked and felt bad, so I shot it again and again from point blanck until it stopped moving, with a shotgun. I haven't killed anything since. Or how bout that time Thanksgiving night my cousin lost his watch at the bonfire and recruited every ablebodied adult to help him find it under the leaves.

The farm is pretty much the most fun place to go ever, besides Heaven. I'm hoping to go this friday, on the agenda:
1. Catch a giant, and I mean Giant bass in the pond
2. Ride the mini bikes around
3. Walk through the woods and see some turkeys
4. Fight my friends with sticks
As you can see, my plans don't sound that exciting, but that's what makes the farm so special. The ability to turn the most boring day ever into the day you will never forget. And we are having a stickfight. Word.

cross country/football/psat/soccer

The plan was simple. Show up to the cross country meet and cheer our lungs/dignity out. But let me tell you, that was way harder than it seemed. I have to say I was not looking forward to the meet since it was cold, windy, and a bit rainy. I met Tripp between classes to get out mapquest directions where I was informed that I would be driving. I hate driving to places where I have no idea where I'm going. Luckily I had Noel and Andy in the car, my navigators. All was good until we got off 275 and tried to find the metropark where the race was. We followed the directions, but we couldn't find the enterance. We started looking at adresses and I swear there was a gap on Savage Road where the park should be. With Berti leading the caravan, we turned around 4 times in less than 6 minutes. Noel was talking to Mrs. Hammel, Tripp was talking to Noel, and Andy was talking to mostly himself and Mrs. Dunn once, which was funny. So we found the park and drove around. How hard could it be to find the race? Pretty damn hard, especially when you're driving around the wrong park. Turns out that Tripp mapquested the wrong park, so after another 20 minutes in Walnut Park or something, we left. We found the park down the street. Even if this wasn't the right one, we were gonna stay there. Luckily it was.

Somehow we got there relatively early, we had about about 20 minutes before the race, but we were operating on pure adrenaline, and quick did our paint job. Our planning at this stage was weak, since we painted the n'ville and 'stangs on us so that we had to run around whenever we wanted to show 'stangs. But whatever. In the parking lot we hurried to paint each others chests in nothing but shorts and socks, which is totally not gay, especially when we're all screaming because the paint's so cold. Once we geared up we ran to the start line- I think that's what you call it. Needless to say all the ladies were quite impressed, but embarrassed that we couldn't figure out the right order of letters. Immediately after the start we sprinted to the 1 mile mark, which happened to be on top of a hill. I know I wasn't in the race, but that hill was still a bitch. From there we ran to the two mile, which seemed like it was 3 miles away. I should have stretched or something, and the pizza and fries I had for lunch were catching up to me. Then we ran to something else, and then to the finish. It's hard to act tough when you feel like you need your inhaler, I'm really out of shape. Plus I was trying not to shiver too much, that's what little kids do. Apparently we really impressed Stephanie since she gave each one of us a big hug, sweat and paint in all. We left after the girls race since cheering for dudes with your clothes off is wierd.

I got home and showered quickly, I had more high school sports to see. Northville v. Novi, Good v. Bad, Hot v. Not, you get the idea. 1-7 v. 7-2. When I got there it was 14-0 them, no suprise there. But somehow, once I arrived, we score 17 unanwsered points. Then we gave up a bunch more, and the refs missed an obvious safety call. If a guy recieving a punt drops the ball, the ball rolls into the endzone, and then the guy falls on it, its a safety. Anyway we lost by 3, and it was way closer than anyone expect- we almost pulled an Appalacian State.

So after a crazy day, I had to get ready for the PSAT (pretty sucky-ass test). What a great way to waste 3 hours of my life. A practice for a test I might not even take. Plus it was easy, I ended up with about 15 extra minutes of calculator game time. I'm getting really good at cave.

The soccer game started at noon. Northville v. Stevenson, Good v. Grotesque, Hot v. Throw up in your mouth, you get the idea. It was the second round of the state playoffs, and it wasn't looking good. It was 0-1 until about 15 mins. left in the 2nd half until we scored off a pk. Dumbass, you don't foul northville in the box, cause we score, always. The game went into OT, and 10 minutes in we scored on a breakaway. It was like watching Lance Armstrong win his 7th TdF. Absolute domination and totally expected. So what if Stevenson was number 2 in the state? We're northville, and we DO NOT loose to Stevenson, ever. A loss to them would be like the Michigan State v. Notre Dame game last year. I wish I could see those assholes from the meet who made fun of us for our mixed up letters and then yelled, "Can't wait for the soccer game tommorow when we beat you". I realize its a Livonia school, but couldn't they think of something a little more piercing to say? We looked buff in our paint, like 6 of the 300 so we didn't care, we were busy posing for pictures. Back to the game, ohh yeah, we won it.

So what did I learn this weekend? Northville never, never looses. Ever. Word.

into the wild

So I was in the basement bench pressing like 400 lbs. when I heard the new Eddie Vedder song "Big Hard Sun" which happens to be the title song for the new movie Into the Wild. There hasn't been a movie I really, I mean really, wanted to see since Superbad, and not that I am drooling to see this film, but I'm definately interested. My understanding is that its about a man who gives up everything he has to go live in the Alaskan wilderness with bears or something crazy like that. Maybe I'm drawn to it because I can see myself doing that, except the living with bears part and I would have a, how do you say, attractive woman come with me. Yeah, maybe I am crazy, but I'd at least carry a gun, but whatever. I didn't read the book, so I don't know any of the details, but its America, who cares about details. But that gets me going on something else- those people who are so self-righteous about how they read the book before seeing the movie because the book is always better.

Now I agree that often the book is better than the movie, just look at Harry Potter, and my personal favorite, Jurassic Park. Micheal Crighton's masterpiece was probably one of the best books I've read (and the movie was sweet too), which is on a very short list: I haven't read many books. But anyway, I didn't read all 17,549 pages of LORT, but you know what? The movie was absolutely bitchin', and if I read all 17,549 pages of Tolkein I might jump off a bridge into a sea of literature based films, and I would enjoy every second of the fall.

Much like my death would be symbolic of my beliefs, that guy in Into the Wild ends up as a lazy brunch for those Kodiak bears, but it could have been dinner- I don't have the details. Anyways I'm looking forward to seeing a movie that is worth discussing with NHS's own film afficionado Tim Ortopan.

In other news tommorow a group of us are going to the last cross country meet to cheer, in a manly way, the girls team to absolute victory. When they run by us, we're taking off our pants/sweatshirts, revealing the name of one runner painted across our chests. We're bringing sexy back. Word.

leaf bug thing

In other somewhat Jeff Corwin related news, I was outside yesterday and saw a sweet bug (I haven't had time to properly identify it yet). At first I didn't realize what it was, for obvious reasons. All I'm gonna say is that I bet Jeff Corwin's camera crew doesn't take pictures of bugs on their free time. Ohh, and if you're afraid of bugs, grow up. I'm gonna make another trip into the forbidden forest tommorow. I hope all the mosquitos are dead. Word.

Meet n Greet...(pause)...not

As many of you may or may not know, my parents went to Montana to visit my brother, sister in law, and their dog. So that left me to sit around in the kitchen in my underwear eating donuts and not using coasters. I know, it was amazing. But when I woke up this morning I saw that I had a text from Jim, my brother, saying that at the restraunt they had dinner at that night, Booles, they saw Jeff Corwin. If I had to pick one person to model my life after to become sucessful in the field I love, it would probably be Jeff Corwin, no it would be Jeff. So needless to say I couldn't believe that my family, me excluded, was practicaly dining with mr. Corwin, and what's more that my Mom didn't ask him about a possible apprenticeship/job that would allow me to drop out of school and achieve a long and illustrious career on animal planet/discovery channel. What really got on my nerves was that from nobody even seemed to care that much. Jim had said he prefered Bindi Irwin more, Dad seemed like he didn't care at all, and Mom was too busy trying to figure out who else he was eating with. Sara probably was so excited she was speechless, but whatever. If I was at dinner, I definately would have gotten a handshake/picture, like you do if you meet the president, and it would be framed in the man cave. I guess he was shooting something in Yellowstone. I guess that's just the way it goes, you stay home on a family vacation and they meet your role model. Lance Armstrong was probably there too. Vacations are a bitch. Word.

Brainfreezes

So I was having a nice, cool fruit smootie the other day. It's strawberry, banana, blueberry, O.J., and A.J. goodness was amazing. It was beautiful music to my taste buds, tangy and light; probably "Perfect Situation" by Weezer if I had to pick. But then it hit me, the indescribable pain turned that music into some yanni-esqe nightmare. I couldn't think, I had to close my eyes, I tried to shake it out, but to no avail. I was at the mercy of the brain freeze. There was nothing I could do. As the pain passed I layed shivering on the floor. I collected myself, and I looked at my smoothie in utter disgust. I'm pretty sure the forbidden fruit wasn't in there, so what could have caused my pain? I mean, what the hell- I was drinking a smoothie. Give me a brainfreeze when I'm doing something bad, like when I ate four donuts at the cider mill yesterday, or give me a brainfreeze whenever I think of BK. But damnit, I was drinking a smoothie, a pure fruit smoothie!, and I never use exclamation points. This isn't over smoothie, I will learn moderation, and I will suffer no more. Word.

bat marvelous

Before tonight, the extent of my Jewish experience had been "The Hanuka Song" by Adam Sandler. But I went to a Bat Mitzvah tonight, and it was alot cooler than I thought it would be. I did have some trouble getting there though. The ceremony was at Temple Israel in West Bloomfield: easy enough. So I mapquested and found that it would take me about 27 minutes to get there. Well Haggarty was packed, alot. Turd. So I was in a hurry and I just turned into the first Jewish place I saw. I guess it was a kind of school or cultural center, an honest mistake considering how many Jewish places there are in West Bloomfield. Double Terd. I finally arrived at the temple about seven minutes late. Damn you mapquest! So I stumbled through the doors, looked at the yarmulkes and white scarf things in utter confusion, and then snuck into the temple part during a prayer, but I was in. The rabbi gave the page number of the next prayer, so I grabbed a book to follow along. Not that I can read Hebrew in the first place, but it took me a while to remeber from fifth grade that Hebrew is read from right to left, and the pages are in the opposite order from what the couple books that I have read have been. So as I sat in my seat turning the book upside down and side to side and trying not to look like a totally lost presbyterian, we did some more prayers in song form. I made out some Amens and Israels in there, and there was alot about Abraham, but the party was awesome.

The theme was movies, with posters, red carpets, and just a bunch of other stuff. There was a 'make your own music video', airbrush tatoos, and tons of food. I made a music video to 'London Bridge', tatooed a t-rex on my arm, and ate alot of chicken fingers. What more could I ask for? Nothing, but maybe a velociraptor instead. I even got a free yarmulke out of it, I wore it on the way home. Jews sure know how to have a good time. Word.

how I spent my summer

People always ask me what I did over the summer. I usually just tell them I swam and slept in, because nobody understands what I do at work even when I try my hardest explaining it. Well my uncle sent me these pictures today, I and totally remeber that that job was a bitch. If you screw up on a bucket that big, well you get deductions from your paycheck forever. Too bad I didn't get one of me crushing barrier wall in the excavator- the machine that uses that bucket. My other friends work at pizza cutter or are baggers at the grocercy store. You know what I do? I do bad assed shit. That's what I do. Word.

to do list

Maybe its a coincedence that I've read a bunch of lists in this past week, or maybe its a calling to make my own. So here it is. I put some serious thought into a some of them, and the others not so much.
clay's top 50 things to do before I die (in no particular order)

1. catch a monster trout in MT
2. lead police in a high speed chase with no injuries or jail time
3. go on a date and maybe more (wink, wink) with Anjelina Jolie
4. finish top 6 in state meet
5. find and befriend sasquatch
6. complete tour de france without high epitesterone levels (Landis is innoscent)
7. be president of the United States
8. spend a whole day slip-n-sliding with attractive women
9. serve a few years as Detroit Zoo director
10. Be a guest on the 'daily show'
11. be the honorary manager of the Tigers for one game
12. survive a snake pit
13. survive an alligator pond (again)
14. swim with sharks, for real
15. beat up that one kid who's always like, "Pueto Ricans are the best and you suck because you're from Northville" what a douchebag
16. visit Isla Nublar
17. spend the day with Rob and Big
18. launch my own underwear line
19. bench press 301 lbs
20. Go snowboarding with Eric, Chris, and Nick again-without hitting all those trees
21. stay at a castle in scotland with lots of sheep
22. Burn every copy of Brave New World and Walden Two at NHS
23. Have lunch with Hillary Clinton one day
24. Have lunch with Wesley Clark the next
25. Form own opinion on if either could be better than Obama
26. Swim the entire Amazon - upstream
27. bike one hundred miles in one day
28. get rid of all the pens that don't work in my backpack
29. have an amazing bear story to tell
30. win monopoly game at McDonalds
31. go to florida without getting sunburned
32. see a wolverine in michigan
33. learn to appreciate Nascar
34. skydiving
35. bungee jumping
36. write a best-selling novel about my top fifty list
37. appear on Jackass
38. get rid of the BCS
39. bowl a strike
40. discover wether 'Nessie' is real
41. be a cast member of survivor, preferably a tropical region
42. design a sweet seminar t-shirt
43. have Bill Murray come to my birthday party
44. come back next year and lead the team to another Northville Cup
45. have more goals in life

This took me a while in between Halo today, so I stopped short because I got bored, plus deep down I'm a pretty chill guy without many goals. But the top 44 is me in a nutshell. Word.

flannel sheets

In my humble opinion, flannel sheets have to be one of the greatest inventions/discoveries of mankind, ever. Putting a man on the moon is impressive, but useless. Decoding DNA could help cure disease, but its boring. The Egyptian pyramids are big, but crumbling. Flannel sheets bring only pure joy and warmth to me with nothing negative, except that feeling I get when I have to leave them. I love flannel sheets so much, than whenever I snuggle (yes, snuggle) in them I always smile. It's like yawning, predicatable and unstoppable. From what I hear from rap songs, satin sheets are good, but let me tell you, flannel are better. Normally I don't just rant about sheets, but in case you haven't noticed the crazy shift from 90 and wet to 60 and windy in metro detroit, well, its cold out. I came home and found all the windows open in my room. Only my room. I don't know if this is some sick joke to give me pneumonia or what, but now the mancave is less manly and my bedroom is ffffrrreezing. But on the upside, it'll just feel that much better when I crawl into my sheets. Word.

the new man cave

Although I have't had much free time lately, I have put aside my busy schedule to keep on improving the man cave. My friends won't admit it, but I know they all want to come over and hang out there, who wouldn't? I put a Molson Canadian sign that says 'get to know a canadian' above the fish tank. This applies to more than just beer. In fact, its the key to strong international relationships. Think of how much more effective NAFTA would be if we knew the Canadian economy was more than maple syrup and snow. I also put the Northville Cup trophy and the celebratory champange bottle on the trophy shelf wall. Finally, I put up the b-ball rim. The cieling is only about a foot higher than the rim, so makin' it rain, actually makes a loud noise and probably leaves a mark. For a more dramactic effect, I haven't picked up any clothes in weeks, so there's a solid layer of laziness on all room surfaces, especially the floor. Not that I've been following this too much, but I was flipping through the channels today and saw that Brittney Spears cracked the top ten. How can that crazy ho be making music when she was practically snorting crack off of little Sean Preston. Dumb bitch. Word.

what I think about impromptu essays about really stupid books being linked to our society

Tommorow, first hour, I have an impromptu essay Enlgish test linking Brave New World, Walden Two, and our society into one incredible ABCD paper. Here's my beef, these books were pointless, and quite honestly painful to read. They hurt my eyes, alot. Also, impromptu essays suck. Suckey books+Suckey essay= I would rather spend a whole Saturday getting my keys out of my trunk than taking this test. Ask me to explain Darwin, ask me the pros and cons of national healthcare, ask me how to manage The Detroit Tigers, ask me practically anything and I'll give you a better-than-half-assed anwser. That's a promise. But ask me about two philosophical books that will never again affect me except for the pain I will remeber them for- I might kill you (metaphorically, of course). I shoud start studying, it's 9:40. Word.

best weekend ever

Last night Julie, 15 others, and I headed over to Dave's hood for some dinner before hitting up the dance. Ian and Summers were way too into the grilling, since there was at least a three foot flame cooking the steak at one point, and Ian had to use his falconing glove to avoid 3rd degree burns. But the dinner was good, no, delicious, thank's to Mrs. Uberti's amazing Italian cooking, and that of countless other moms. Sam managed to get chicken grease on her dress, and Nora swore she bit into a chicken vein, whatever. But after the eating and only when Mrs. Summers wasn't watching like a hawk, a napkin fight broke out. Jelso had no chance. Anyway, after the dinner we headed over to the dance. I got a false sense of hope coming through the main entrance: it wasn't even that hot. But as soon as I stepped into the gym the temperature went up a conservative one million degrees. That didn't stop me from getting my grove on though, just ask the ladies. I was a sweaty mess, but so was everyone else. I pulled a Jonathan-esqe unbutton my shirt down to my belt and dance. I came out and my shirt was soaked, like a pail of good moves was just dumped on me.

After the dance we headed over to the bounce. It wasn't as good as Friday, but it was still better than almost anything else you can ever imagine. There was some guitar hero going on in the basement, Earle is a god.

So I came home and talked with mom for a little bit, only to change clothes and get ready for Halo. I played for a solid hour until my eyes started twitching. It is by far one of the best games I have ever played. I wish I was the Master Chief. I went to bed, woke up, and then played some more Halo. I'm fighting the Floods right now, a tough adversary, but I can do anything with the shotgun+mele combo.

The best part was because of Homecoming half our team decided not to show up to the game. So I got to play. I GOT TO PLAY, and I absolutely dominated, not to brag, but its the only word that properly describes my performance. I scored within the first 7 seconds of the game, and then the game winner later. We were playing high school dudes, not little 5th grade girls like you were probably thinking. I finished with two goals and a sweet asist. I should have had 4 if the refs had been somewhat...inteligent.

Overall, this weekend was sweet, couldn't have been better. Tommorow is gonna suck though, since I haven't done any serious homework yet, but you have to pick your battles. Word.

the empire strikes back

You know how I said that Louis simply hasn't gotten around to killing those last few chipmunks around the house? Well he has. I thought something smelled bad.

homecoming

Well, if you didn't go to the Northville v. Franklin game last night, you didn't have to. My prediction held through in a 7-14 loss at home in front of hundreds, if not millions, of fans. I'm not gonna say it was a good game, because we lost, and because I wasn't paying attention to it. So there. In other news, Friday was also school color day as you may or may not know. If you are an NHS alum, I assume you wore orange and black to the office. I went all out with layered t-shirts, black soccer socks, black shorts, and I spent hours the night before in a tanning salon.

Tonight is the actuall dance though, which ought to be okay, as long as it doesn't get too hot. Last year the walls in the cafeteria/gym were sweaty, clouds of condensing sweat were everywhere, and there were puddles of sweat on the cafeteria floor. Rumor is that this year the dance will be in the main gym, with the lights on, and playing no rap. We'll see. Last year when they kicked us out of the cafeteria due to flooding, there was a unaminous 'bullshit' chant. Ahh, high school.

But the real fun comes after the dance. MOONBOUNCE time!! Since Dave rented it for the whole weekend, a few of us went over last night to...test it. It's a frog moonbounce, with no ceiling and big walls, so you can jump onto the top of the walls and then butt-bounce down below. While testing, I managed to make solid contact on Dave's knee with my neck. Now when I roll my shoulders my neck makes a poping noise, but pain is temporary, pride is forever. The only problem is that this weekend its gonna be like 85 and sweaty, so we will be battling dehydration while jumping. Also, if we pop it its gonna be $10,000 to replace, so that works out to about $500 a person. We'll see how it goes. I know the picture sucks, but it was dark out. Word.

MTL blows

Last night was perhas the worst night of the school year so far. Because of spirit week, we had two A-days in a row, which is like being bludgoended with a club almost to the point of passing out, but not enough to get you unconcious. So this meant one less night to finish my giant MTL project. We were supposed to create a utopic/distopic society, and explain all about it in a tourist book. We aren't in 6th grade anymore. I was hoping that in an honors English class such as this, I would be finished with cutting and pasting. But here's the thing, this is obviously an artistic project, and I suck at art. Also keep in mind that the class is normal sized, like 22 kids or something, and there are only 6 guys in the class. So I don't understand why my teacher put me in a group of 4 guys. I mean Kyle, K-dub, Colin, and I aren't exactly the epitimy of creativity. Anyway, we're also not the epitimy of hard work, as shown by our progressively putting off the project until the two nights prior to the due date. So last night was our night- we were going to make a killer project, and fast. What we came out with was a piece of shit, and it took all night. From 6:15 to 11:00. Kyle and Colin bailed at nine, but K-dub hung in there which was much needed. Listening to hard rap to keep us going, we buldozed through the rubric, and in the end it appeared that we buldozed our project too, and hence our grades. Anyway, we were both getting cranky and we finished in time to avoid any I-hate-school-and-I'm-gonna-take-it-out-on-you animosity. So then I had to do my chemistry. That took another 2 1/2 hours, and then another 30 minutes of ap european history. BLAHH. I went to bed at 2:00 a.m., and before any more 'seasoned' scholars jump on me and say 2:00 a.m. is nothing, well I don't care- I was tired. On the good side, I got Soulja Boy's 'Yahhh' and 'Report Card' off iTunes, good stuff.

In more spirited news, tommorow is Black and Orange day at school. I'm going all out, and so should you. But this also means there's a football game, the homecoming game to be exact. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say we'll loose tommorow. Not because we haven't won a game this year, but, no...thats exactly the reason I'm saying we'll loose. It'll be fun though. Word.

punk'd

This year, when you buy a homecoming ticket at school, you get some free swag, a northville mustangs windshield sticker to be precise. I bought two tickets, and so I put one of the stickers on Julie's car when she and Katie came over today. Now since it is a tinted rear window, and a clear/orange sticker, I figured that I would probably get a call a week later asking if I put that sticker on her car, but no! Alas, Julie checked her mirrors and noticed the sticker seriously within 10 minutes of me putting it on. What she doesn't know is that by driving around with that sticker, I have sealed Katie's future at NHS.
In spirit week news, tomorow juniors are to dress up as if we are visiting Hawaii. This is so lame, especially after an unsuccesful 'white' clothes day for juniors today- I mean it is after labor day. Anyway, just as I finally convince my mom to stop buying me Hawaiian shirts, we have Hawaii day. wtf. But good news is on the way, School color day is Friday!!! This means orange towell, face paint, black shorts, black soccer socks, flipflops, speedo(?), among other things. It's goin down Friday. Sorry the picture of the sticker sucks, but it was sunny, what're you gonna do? Word.

spirit week's back

That's right, all of you out-of-towners, spirit week is back at NHS. And, as ususal, Monday was p.j. day. Let me tell you why p.j. day is the best day of all time ever. 1) the others days generally suck 2) you don't have to get changed or shower, and most importantly number 3) You know those kids that look well, not at their best at school just from a lack of effort in the morning? Well now they have an excuse. Even some of the teachers got into it, especially the ones on tenure, which I thought was awesome. If you've been teaching that long, you deserve to go to school wearing whatever you feel like, after all it is spirit week, not lack-of-spirit week, duh. Anyway, Juniors somehow got stuck with racketsports for tommorow's sports day. I'm pretty sure the sports were lame last year too, hence the unofficial switch to 'dress like a rap star' day, which many used as another p.j. day- white undershirt with saggy pants. The best part about that day was the threat to send kids who actually dressed like a rapper home, in other words suspension for wearing clothes that didn't break the dress code. Mr. Shambleau-a-big-one said that it portrayed a 'negative racial stereotype' which I feel was inadvertenly more racist than dressing up like 'pac. All I'll say is that you've got your 50 cent and Kanye, your Eminem, your d.j. Khaled, and your counltess others that are of different races but still dress the same. So how is dressing as your favorite rap star racist? Go figure. Anyway, I was too busy with the hw tonight to go to dick's and get the necessary short shorts, sweatbands, eye protection, and high socks to dress up as a racketeer, so whatever. I will say that I hope most girls decide to dress up as Anna Kournikova though. Word.