Even the ground likes my face.

Have you ever had some really unusual or unnecessary goals in life that ended up eclipsing your real ones? For example, the other week I achieved my greatest goal in highschool. This is a goal that I had had for four years and never thought I would accomplish. Was it topping all of my classes? Was it blowing up decking out the science lab? Was it shaving my English Extension pedophile beard off? Sadly, it was none of these. I've already done the first one a few times (oh hell yes nerd pride), and I would do the last one with great pleasure, because let's face it, ExtEng is scary enough without having to look at the face of someone who could potentially molest you. I mean, potentially metaphorically molest you. Though co-ordination and demisemiquavergirl just don't seem to go together, I am sure that I could kick that pudgy guy's ass if need be. After all, I am more masculine than all of my male friends. The petite, untoned female is more masculine that a bunch of men, you did read that correctly. It must be my superhuman wit and strength.

I think I'm drifting away from the point. Anyway, my massive-oh-so-big-goal was actually to hide in my school's underground store room just once. I can just hear you all facepalming at the anticlimax I created there.

"How obsece! Why would anyone make it their goal to be stuck in a dingy room that smells ofdirt and tree roots? The most exciting thing in there is a bunch of badminton nets. It is preposterous that anyone would base their schooling life around such a thing. I am offended! This is an outrage! Call 911! Ah, but this is Australia, so that number doesn't work! What shall I do? Call the police! Call the thought police? Ah screw it, call my Mum! She'll whack some sense into this seemingly delinquent child!"

That is exactly what you were thinking, right? I know, I know, I'm a psychic. You can reign your blessings and awe-struck comments on me anytime you please. All complaints about how perplexing you find my achieved goal can be lodged to Yo Mama. That's 69 So Fat Dr, Whaleville. Immaturity aside, I myself wonder why I put such an abstract thing at the top of my to-do list. You would think that your friendly neighbourhood academic medalist would be looking to do something more... intelligent. Oh wait, you wouldn't. Because anyone who knows anything about me could tell you that I am incapable of making serious goals. Even my "I want to get an A in this assignment" oh-so-craptacular-and-boring goals sound more like "I want to get an A to stick it to x teacher, and while I'm at it, I'm going to include y reference, just to see if they're biased enough to mark me down or up for it." Oh heaven above, I'd hate to teach me. Isn't it lucky that I'll never have to?

I get this feeling that I'm beating around the bush here. Or beating around the keyboard, if you will. Oh Pheebes, that's so lame, even for you. Internal monologuing, whoop whoop! I'm sorry, I must focus. Focus! *slap* I'm doubly sorry, I just had to insert a Total Drama reference there. We all know that I never grew up. Why do I get the feeling that this paragraph hasn't achieved anything yet? Oh right, it hasn't. Therefore, with a snap of my fingers and a click of my heels, I shall get to the point: it is the little things in life that you remember. Sure, I base a lot of my life around academics (and constantly complaining about academics) but the things that I learnt in tests or on assignments won't be the things that I remember in detail years later.

Getting myself into the store room was something that I discussed with whiteribbon back in the yesteryear of 2008. Actually, until then, neither of us knew that the school even had an underground store room, even though there are all of four proper buildings on the campus. It was so strange and earthy; unlike anywhere else in the school. So we decided that before we graduated, we'd somehow find a way to get into there again... Without supervision. Sadly, whiteribbon wasn't there when I finally got to do this, and it wasn't really that big of an event at the time. That depends on how you classify 'big', though, because I was literally bouncing off and trying to climb sloping concrete walls. I be special, kiddiez!

With that pointless goal over, I'm not sure what to promote to the top of my list. Sure, I could make it something like "Get a kick-ass OP" but what would be the fun in that? I'm thinking of either making it a) make sure that my faux marriage love triangle continues b) think of the best Inheritance Cycle chocolate milk drinking game shots for schoolies c) draw a moustache on my English teacher's face or d) serenade a random child. Oh yes children, I have a faux marriage love triangle. My memory fails me (I may have mentioned this before) but I was 'married' to TentuoTuo twice, and am currently 'married' to MissInvisible. My first marriage ended in death, communism, bats and hauntings. My second marriage, which had a proper ceremony in the library and everything, ended because Facebook messed up relationship statuses. And I'll be celebrating my one year marriage anniversary with MissI in about a month. It has been a good faux marriage. But I still like to keep things a little triangular with TT. One could say that neither my marriage to a gay guy or a straight girl have been completely successful so far. Gee, I wonder why?

Ohohoh! On the topic of goals, I just remembered that I completed a serious one today; I told my HPE teacher off for not knowing my name. Seriously, he has been teaching me for four years, and still calls me "girls," "ladies," "you," "um," or "Vandersay." The former is ClearlyUnfocused's nickname, not mine. Even AnonymousAlbino, who openly wags sport, is known to him. Bah. Anyway, he was telling my friends and I that he'd remember us in years to come.
"I'll remember you, Gojo. I'll remember you, Vandersay. I'll remember you... umm... errr..." he stuttered.
"And I'll always remember you as the teacher who never knew my name!" I retorted, half jokingly, but with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he laughed it off. A minute later, he yelled my name at my from across the sports field. I think he thought I'd be impressed that he actually remembered, but I was too busy feeling smug that I'd finally told him off (albeit not seriously) after four years of annoyance.

Sport is also where I got the title of this post from. In true me-style, I completely stacked it when playing a sport that we had to create. I called it "Decapitation Ball" and that wasn't far off the mark. I found myself whacked by the ball, dragged and squished by people pulling me with a skipping rope, and thrown to the ground on two occasions. The first was rather serious, and caused me to skin and bruise both my knees (it still hurts to walk), graze my elbow and have a lrage headache. Oh, and my vision went all weird and black and stuff, but I didn't want to make a fuss. I'm not the type to complain about injuries at the time. I would have at least asked for ice, but as I mentioned, the PE teacher didn't and doesn't know that I exist.

So anyway, I have decided that the ground must have been so attracted to me that it had to pull me towards it in a painful embrace. Nothing to do with being pushed over, no, no. You know what else is attractive? Strawberries. Nothing beats strawberries. Except for passionfriut; passionfruit is smexy. No that isn't code, yes I am talking about actual fruit. No I do not have a fruit fetish, yes I eat more fruit than I do any other type of fruit. How did we even get on to fruit? I don't even, man. You know what else is attractive? The fact that I'm blogging again, and I spruced this place up a bit. Do you like my dodgy-but-improved background? See them clouds (the real question is one of the grammar this sentence)? They have silver linings! I am just so subtle like that. I could have made a different or more intricate background picture, but I think the style suits. It's like this blog; dodgy, cheesy, just a tad weird, but something that doesn't take itself too seriously. N'aww, picture metaphor.

Ah, I must depart to the land of slumber. I have to get up early tomorrow to buy another formal dress, because the one I waited for five months to get was shipped from America in the wrong colour. If something like that was going to happen to anyone, it would be me. I was really annoyed about this, but now I'm just finding it amusing. Okay chickens, hope you're totally estatic about my return to blogging. Or at least moved emotionally in any way. As long as it's not aroused, because that would just be disturbing. Speaking of which, I apparently looked like I was seducing someone today. I was so confused, because for all my sus joking, I really am still far too innocent in the brain. No, really, I didn't get how it looked like that at all. But then again, that's probably the problem. Problems can be problematic, my fine folk!

That's all there is. There isn't any more.

Old Ladies Love it When I Talk Smut.

There is no doubt about it, I have impeccable timing. It seems to be predestined that whenever I say something completely and utterly embarrassing or sexual, someone who really shouldn't hear about it walks past. When I say 'walks past', I mean 'miraclulously turns up next to me for reasons unknown'. I don't know if this is the work of some celestial force, or a hint that I should acquire a less risque sense of humour.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have been talking to Anonymous Albino about boobs in a public place, erm, year twelve area. But, sixteen year old boys often only appear to have one thing on their minds, and he needed to be scolded. I'm not sure how the topic got as whack as it did. Let me try and remember...

AA: I have a brilliant idea! Gingerbread women. With gobstoppers for breasts. I could make a fortune out of that.

Humph. Of course no menopausal teachers are ever around when he says things like that. Actually, that's a lie. Next to me, he gets caught out saying 'interesting' things the most. That's probably only because he mentions such things so frequently, though. Now, where was I?

DSGirl: You'll need to expand your industry. You're not going to make enough money out of gingerbread men with boobs alone.

AA: Oh course I would. I'm sure that if they were in adult stores, they'd sell.

I'm pretty sure they already do sell gingerbread women, guys. I'm pretty sure that at this point, one of the guys in our group put his head on the table in shame. Sadly my friends, this was only the beginning. The gingerbread argument turned into a girls vs. guys debate on what was actually good about boobs. It got kinda... funky.

DSGirl: They don't stay firm forever, you know.

AA: Alas, that is true. I was very sad to have learnt that.

DSGirl: Wait... There was a time when you didn't know that?

AA: I'm sure that as a little kid, I wasn't looking at old people and thinking "Wow, those boobs aren't firm anymore."

DSGirl: Yeah, but you'd still see older women and know that out of general observation. It's something that just happens, and that's okay, because it's not like you want some old women walking around being like "Hey! Look at my nice, firm brea-"

At this point, my Biology teacher magically appeared out of nowhere. Well, apparently everyone else had seen her walking up, but I'd been facing the opposite direction, and had failed to notice. My reaction was something along these lines:

My hand automatically flew to my mouth, as if it smother it, lest something even worse were to come out, and I couldn't see myself, but I can almost guarantee that I was blushing. To make things just that little bit less suspicious, everyone suddenly decided to cease talking altogether. My Biology teacher looked at us all very strangely. She thought that we had been talking about her.

BT: Were you talking about me? All I heard was 'old woman', so I hoped that you weren't talking about me.

Everyone hastily denied that the conversation had been about her.

Everyone: No! Now it wasn't-
AA: We were just talking about old people in general.

Yeah, really smooth. At least she didn't hear what I was actually saying. This post shows that I'm no stranger to making blunders in front of respectable people. The worst of these incidents was probably last year's Biology camp. Some of my female friends and I were staying in a cabin that obviously used to be a room for boys. The pornographic drawings on the ceiling made that all too clear. And, well, the people running the camp obviously hadn't washed the doonas we had to use, because mine had a few white crusty stains on it. Yes, my friends, I had some very interesting, and probably correct theories about this. I spent a good ten minutes screaming and cursing about this, when, to my horror, our friendly neighbourhood overly-Christian male teacher knocked on the door, and told me that he had heard every word I had said.

The moral of this story is: if you don't have something respectable to say, don't say anything at all. I'm only kidding, if you don't have something respectable to say, go ahead and say it! If you have half my luck, great amounts of hilarity will ensue. May the demisemiquavers be with you, munchkins!

[demisemiquavergirl], bite your tongue!

He no happy with you...

Memoirs of an Antagonist

I can wholeheartedly say that I had fun in HPE today. Like, whoa. I know, you probably believed that the rapture was going to happen a few days ago more than you believe I had a good time in HPE. As much as I despise the subject, it can be pretty good, sometimes. Today, our class was meant to be doing Volleyball. I don't know why. For some reason, the teacher has an obsession with volleyball. Even though barely anyone seems to take proper interest in it. Hurrm. Anyway, for some reason, the teacher decided that four people could go off and play unsupervised tennis, while the remainder of the class played volleyball. Naturally, [Gojo], [ClearlyUnfocused], [AnonymousAlbino] and I all volunteered to play tennis stright away. I mean, the HPE teacher was lucky to have all of us turn up to his lesson. We're all... Less than fit. Or sporty. So, for the whole period, we played a rather disjointed and dysfunctional game of tennis. I think I've mentioned it before, but [AnonymousAlbino] and I have this story going, where he's the protagonist, and I'm the antagonist. Well, I dibs'd being the antagonist, and he got stuck being the protagonist, because, who wants to be the good character? ehehe. I remember when I was a kid, and everyone would want to be the good guy or princess or whatever. Nowadays, people fight over being the baddie. Well, I don't know if normal members of society make up strange stories and cast themselves as characters, but whatever. I decided that we also needed an antihero and an antivillain. [Gojo] dibs'd antihero, and [ClearlyUnfocused] reluctantly took antivillain. It was most amusing, seeing as half of our party didn't even fully know what those character types were at first.

Anyhoo, back to the tennis game! So, we paired off into doubles. [Gojo] and I were a team. We were the dark side, and we haz cookies! We found it a most fitting antag/antihero pairing, seeing as the antihero typically is cast with the antagonist, or pretends to be bad/is bad, then reforms. Obviously, [AnonymousAlbino] and [ClearlyUnfocused] were our opponents, fighting for the side of good. Though none of us were all too good at actually hitting the ball, or getting a rally going (though, I must say, the dark side was much better than the good >:3 mwahaha) it was an awesome tennis game.

Being evil and all, I decided that when actually winning by hitting the ball over the net failed, the best thing to do was to run at the protagonist, and face him in a duel, using the tennis rackets as swords. My swordsmanship was epic, but I could only stay on the side of good for so long, without having to return to the dark side to regain my villain powers. See, my Freudian excuse for being a villain was that I was such a failed tennis player, I tried to overcompensate by being evil. And I had a tragic back story. Bad childhood, yo. [ClearlyUnfocused]'s Freudian excuse just was the protagonist. They were always arguing, and he treated her very badly. Actually, their bickering, while hilarious, held up the game a lot. The antihero and I decided that the good side was much too slow.

Except, my antihero seemed to have BST with the protagonist. This was all "very stifling to the plot". Although, their interactions were very amusing, as it proved that she was not truly evil. While they were bickering, I tried to convince the antivillain to leave the side of good, and come over to the dark side, where everything was better. I used my manipulative skillz to get her to give me a ball, at one stage :3 It was a victory for the plot, and for evil.

I have the most random times at school. Like, this afternoon, [Gojo], [ClearlyUnfocused], [Dylman] and I made a barricade at the top of the stairs to stop our English teacher from getting through, and therefore avoid giving us our drafts back. Mkay, so I was kinda annoyed that after eight days, I hadn't gotten my draft back, but the whole situation was just amusing. The dude hadn't even marked the drafts yet, so he sat outside the staffroom, marking them, and using very colourful language to describe the task. Then our instrumental teacher walked past, and the two teachers had the weirdest mock-staring-competition-thing I've ever seen. I think bombarding teachers after school, and playing weird story-tennis-games are the sorts of things I'll remember about school. The work is going to be forgotten so quickly, but those things, yeah, I'll remember them. And I shall look back and trololol.

Top left: Gojo, Top Right: AnonymousAlbino, Bottom left: Meee, Bottom right: ClearlyUnfocused. The crazy tennis story game thang!

Now, for something completely random. At said draft conferencing thing, [ClearlyUnfocused] was saying that she would really need her chocolate this afternoon. And I was like "Whaaat? Oh, thaaaat chocolate," and our English teacher was all "Errrm. Chocolate isn't code for heroin or something, is it?" lolz. Luckily, it is not. Otherwise, our instrumental teacher would have bought my friends and I blocks of heroin yesterday. Awkward! Oh yeah, our band totes played at a shopping centre yesterday. And we were awesome. And [Gojo] introduced me to the best chips and gravy ever. And we got free donuts. And, as mentioned, the instrumental teacher bought us blocks of chocolate as a thank-you for busking at some school event. It was totalawesomeballs!

Well, I better go actually fix my draft, even though I don't really understand the feedback my teacher has written. Oh wells! Farewell, kiddiewinkles. Excaibur agrees with me: DON'T DO DRUGS. N'awww moral ending.