Merry Late Christmas To All...

Ah, Christmas. The rockin' line of guitars around the Christmas tree, the majestic ear flaps, the skyping to long lost Spaniard sisters, the belly bursting amounts of Mormon Bubbly....S'wonderful! S'marvelous! I am forever grateful to Jesus for such a fantastic holiday.
On a non-related note, I have just found another superhuman author who has graced me with her words. Kate DiCamillo. The name simply drips with literary genius! It is the utmost honor to say that we are within the same species. We have all (hopefully) read/heard of "The Tale Of Desparaux" by this prodigious individual, and have merely appreciated the story, without really going on to pursue any more of the author's works. The world has been holding out on me. Where were the fanfares? The blimbs? Where were the ringing of trumpets throughout the land to announce another prestigious novel by a prestigious person? Oh, shame is the Earth! I wouldn't have wasted precious time on frivolous things such as Twilight and the like had these simple operations had been executed! *Sigh* Why must the world be so cruel to old Laura?
Well, to all you seas of people who are reading this, merry late Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

The Art of Trash Bagging

I wrote this about a half hour before it was due. A bit crappily done, but amusing all the same.
It’s Friday night. Gilmore Girls is over. You have absolutely nothing to do. You are hit with the revelation: Trash bagging. There is your antidote for a boring Friday night.
Let me explain. In the art that is trash bagging, there is a very prestigious way of going about things. Pay close attention, because there will be a quiz. First, you get your trash bag. Then, simply grab your favorite pair of scissors, butchers knife, or machete and make 3 holes: two for your legs and one for your face. The face hole is most important. In the art of trash bagging, suffocating and dying is not acceptable. All violators of this vital trash bagging law shall pay the death penalty.
Next: Getting into the bag. Oops, silly me! I have forgotten a step! Before getting into the bag, you must change into a pair of shorts. This is crucial in order to achieve the optimum trash bagging experience. There now. Once you have your shorts in place, it is time to execute operation getting into the dang trash bag already. Just as you’d put on your shorts, or your favorite pair of clown trousers, place your legs into the leg holes you created previously. Ignoring the leg holes step can be treacherous. Please remember the step. Once this is finished, place your head in the head hole. Then have a dear friend, sibling, monkey, or a friendly questionable stranger tie the top of the trash bag atop your head. Then have your monkey, sibling, friend or questionable stranger drive you to any hose, but make sure it is a house you know (we here at the Trash Bagging Association of the Universe care about safety too, you know!). Then have your comrade ring the doorbell. As he/she does this, quickly sit down on the porch (back to the door), put your legs together, and look as much like a trash bag as is humanly possible. Once your unsuspecting victim opens the door, looking for carolers or a nice big, body sized package, they will see you and feel the utmost surprise. Now remember,, if this is carried out correctly, you will look like a real trash bag, and the door opener sees you, they will attempt to grab you and take you inside to show the children. This is when you act. Once they make their move, jump up, making your victim wet themselves, and run off to the patiently waiting vehicle, drive away, and don’t forget to look behind you at your prank recipient’s hilarious face.
There now, you have successfully completed your first trash bagging course. Congratulations! Now just remember: it’s all good fun, and what is funnier than a bare legged, running trash bag?

And to think it all spawned from a measly picture of a soccer game....

Alright alright, so here's how it all went down. It was on Thursday. Mr. Walline decided he needed to waste our time further with his own moronic invention, which he has christened "free-writes". He said, and I quote, "It's called a free-write, *giggle* so you are free *giggle* to write about whatever you want." So, he posts a meaningless picture up on the crappy overhead everyday and we are supposed to write a whole page on it.
Did I take the man's statement a little too seriously? Possibly. Ah well, revel with me in the insanity.

Warning: This free-write is so awesome, there have been many reports of death, for it's inconceivable majesty is beyond which us mere mortals can fathom. Proceed with care, cation, and sunglasses (to shield your eyes from the unbearable hotness).


"What a terrible waste of time." Laura thought as she free-wrote on her tragic waste of a tree. "I could be doing something noble and worth my while, like curing cancer or watching a Cary Grant movie." She thought Cary Grant thoughts as she stared out of the window. "Oh Cary," she sighed, "they just don't make men like you anymore." She teared up at the thought. "Life should have more Cary Grants, Jude Laws, Johnny Depps, Mr. Rochesters, and just a smidgen of Marlon Brandos. But life, as great and sumptuous as it is, doesn't care about what I want. If it did, Cary Grant would still be alive, and my letter from Hogwarts would be here by now." Just as this thought entered little Laura's head, the ceiling opened up, and Cary Grant descended into Mr. Walline's dreary classroom, a broomstick in his hand and a sexy smile on his sexy face. "Sorry, darling!" he said, wrapping her in the most Cary Grant embrace she all but melted, "I would've been here sooner, but I had to track down this owl here. Turns out he confused 'Rexburg' with 'Iceberg', and has been lost in Antarctica for the past three years." He then produced a shivering owl from his coat. Upon seeing Laura, the owl gave an excited hoot and stuck out his leg. And there it was. Her letter. Laura removed the holy parcel, pleased but not at all surprised as she looked it over. "Alright then!" Cary said, mounting his broomstick. "Come, Laura! Magic waits for no one." Completely jazzed, Laura hopped onto the broomstick and sped off into the sunset, leaving her cheering muggle classmates behind her.

Love is a Burnin Thing...

In the british excitement of the other day, I lost my wits and forgot to post a bit about Jane Eyre, dash it all! I shall repent of that sin immediately. *Ahem*
Charlotte Brontë..if you weren't a woman, I would have a serious crush on you. I mean, geez lady!!! You have cheated God with your brilliance!!! Any other author who dares place their work above yours is delusional and a complete moron, and possibly suicidal (because I WILL hunt them down. Hear me now, scum! You have been warned!). Lets reflect on her best work's magnificence, shall we?
Mr Rochester: You leave Edward Cullen, Mr. Darcey, and all those other now seemingly childish blokes behind by about a couple lightyears with your COMPLETE AND UTTER DROP DEAD GORGEOUS CHARACTERISTICS!!! AURGH!!! Let's kill Jane and you can marry me. I'm serious, my dearest fictional lover!! Whats a couple hundred years? I don't care how old you are, I want you, you sexy beast you.
Jane: You make every pretty rich girl want to be penniless and ordinary so they can get a man like Rochester. You are envied by women of all ages, shapes, forms, creeds, and tongues, including me. ESPECIALLY me. I know its wrong to put all your hope for a love life into a hunky hunky fictional character, but I can't help myself. Wanna trade lives? You get a world with Johnny Depp and toilets, dang it!
The Love: Alright, alright, I can't have Mr. Rochester, as painful as it is for me to admit it. It wouldn't be right. The love between Mr. Rochester and Jane is what makes Mr. Rochester the spectacular creature that he is. If I took him, he wouldn't be the man we all love and adore. *sighs, swoons, drools, hyperventilates, passes out.*
The love Jane and Mr. Rochester share is beautiful. It isn't for lust or for gain or relations. It is pure, honest love. Unconditional, irrevocable, it is the epitome of beauty. A girl who has nothing, no family, no gold, no anything, has this magical thing that the most wealthy, spoiled girls would kill for. To love and to be loved this powerfully, in such astonishing concentration, could leave you dying happy just thinking about it. The idea, the wonderful idea, that this love in fact exists makes life worth living.

I highly, highly, highly, clear up to high heaven recommend this book, and the 2006 version of the movie. The movie is on youtube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XsB22Qjz3A). Do yourself a favor: find about four hours in your day and watch this movie. Start with that link and work your way around. Tis simply incredible. You will thank me.

Good Heavens, You Boys! Blue Blooded Murder of the English Tongue!

(Picture: The brilliant Monty Python comedians in "The Ministry of Silly Walks. If you have any self respect you will youtube this video now.)

Today, while not listening to my history teacher's trivial blabber, it was revealed to me in a vision that I was to make a list of all the British words and phrases I could summon in that hour. Most of these are inspired/stolen from Harry Potter, Wallace and Gromit, various BBC movies, Peter Pan, and the Harry Potter Song. Enjoy!
(Note: If any british people are reading this: I am sorry to offend you. But it's so much bloody fun!!)

Pip pip!
What what?
Spit spot! Alert the corgi!
Cheerio!
Mate
Git
Prat
Bloody
Eh?
"Ni!"
Pint
Don't go and get your knickers in a twist!
Deuce
'Arry Potter!
Rubbish
Cricket!
"You're driving on the wrong side of the road!"
Crumpets
Tartan
Bowler hat
"Uh oh! God save the Queen!"
"No, that is not a boat, that is Queen Victoria!"
"By jove!"
Cracking!
"Jolly good!"
Pompous
"Marvelous! Absolutely spiffing!"
Blighter
Monocle
"Merlin's Beard!"
"Jumpin gargoyles!"
"Simply splendid to see you, old boy!"
Ello!
"Ello guvnah!"
"Sir, please dismount the banistster."
"Odds, bobs, hammers and tongs!"
"Bangers and mash. Bubbles and squeak. Smoked eel pie!"
Haggis
Trousers
Walkies!
"Ah, well, it's no use prevaricating about the bush... "
"The bounce has gone from his bungee."
Gerroff
"Fugitive, ay? You'll be hunted down like... well, a dog."
"We've forgotten the crackers!"
"Kiss me arrtechoke!"
"That was bloody brilliant!"
"A little less noise there, a little less noise!"

*Bows, curtsies* Thank you! Oh thank you! This has been a splendid old time! Thank you! If you would like to hear the bloody brilliant "Harry Potter Song", simply place this address
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yTzKx9HfO0g
into the browser of your choice.
Don't forget to drink your tea! And eat lapel popping amounts of crumpets! G'day sir!