Now, I've never broken a bone in my life.  Ever.  Even the one time it would have been cool to break a bone-when I fell off a ski lift and had to duck and roll with my injured arm because the Irish lift attendant *sigh* was yelling at me  trying to save my life because he was madly in love with me-all that happened was some 1st aid eskier had to strap me into a pack thingy and ski me down the path (much to my embarassment) because they thought I broke my arm, but all I did was strain it.  I took dance for eight years, got beaten into a puddle of Me-Goo when I stubbornly took the adult's karate class and somehow got thrown into sparring, have done way too many stupid, stupid things before (like being shocked by an electric fence), and have never broken anything, maimed anything, or permenantly scarred myself in any way.

Except for yesterday, when, while half asleep and shuffling around my room to prepare for school, I stubbed my toe on my pull-out drawer from under my bed.

So I know what you're thinking.  "It's a plastic drawer on wheels, what's the big deal?" and I will tell you.  I am Imelda Marcos reincarnated.  I have more shoes than I have purses or lipstick, and because of my obsession, my little pinkey toe is broken.  You could throw a body in that drawer and not be able to find it in there.  And now it broke my toe.

So I broke my toe.  And my mother even agrees with me.  But it's not going to stop me from wearing my gorgous new Nine West's anytime soon.  I'm incredibly stubborn.


But I know all of you want Kismet...so that will be soon.

mizenki and I have school the day after tomorrow.  How foreboding...

Regardless, I'm looking forward to the expected crazies-much better than summer for me, since mine-you know,  my last one as a kid-sucked.

Except for the part where I have my homeroom in a room I KNOW I am not supposed to.  In a hallway with the smallest lockers.  I'm used to art class first, with a large, 'stuff the body in it' locker.  I could come in say 'my Karma is off today' and then flop on the art room couch and sleep for a period.  Now...now I have to *scoffs* think?  Then?  Disgusting.

Whatev.  mizenki and I have our club and all the joys that go with it.

So maybe I'll show a lil' more...

      

Also...

I love talking to my friend Chris.  Other than being wonderfully OCD like myself, our conversations make for LOVELY reading material:
Chris:  I love our town.
Me:  Why? We have no beach, but we have seagulls.  That crap a lot.  I have a car, Chris, I don't like having to clean it every time I take it OUT OF THE GARAGE!!!
Chris:  But we have like every fast food place ever.
Me: No we don't.
Chris: Yes we do.
Me: NO we do NOT.  That's like saying you've read every book in the world.  You can't.  And I like Phily a whole hell of a lot better.  They have cheesesteaks.  And people ready to shoot you at any moment.  It keeps you on your toes.
Chris: I like NYC...It's got dirty subways-
Me: With cross dressers and trannies...
Chris: And you have to wash your hands every five minutes...wait.  No I don't like NYC.
Me:  I still like Philly.  At least they have Geno's.  And a really nice pimp on South Street who sells hats.  And a Condom Kingdom across the street from a Baby Gap.
Chris:  A nice pimp?  Hats?
Me: Yeah.  Well, he was nice to ME...

So the other day my grandparents gave me my key...an official, weighty piece of something real to hold on to and possess when things get crazy...

Which they have.  Apparently I can't really go home this week.  I was told that it was better "knowing I was safe with them" instead of being "in and out" at my own home.

I've been living there for several years now, longer than I've ever lived anywhere else.  I remember when we found that house, how much work we put into that house, and I finally felt that I didn't have to worry about my address changing two years later, as it had been.  I just finally cut ends with my father, and no longer have to list two addresses on things, or tell my friends that they had to call me on my cell because I woulnd't know where I was going to be for sure.  They finally just stopped asking me 'what house are you at?' as a way of greeting on the phone.

But I'm happy here.  I spent my early, early childhood here.  I know all the back roads like I know the back of my hand; I've always been fiercely loyal of this town, defending it against jokes about backwoods people.  I've felt nervous these past few years, not living in the woods.  I missed the long, thin little winding roads and now that I can drive them and the police are as lethargic as ever, I can really enjoy them.

So it means saving a lot more for gas to get back and forth from meeting with my friends.  


On another note...

TO ALL SPARABETH FANS, I've talked to many a first viewer of the film, who hadn't been aware of this wonderful ship, and now that the second film has been released, they've seen the light.  I skip with joy in a purely Snoopy move.

Title: Swanndive
Author: allison_sayne
Word Count: 2164
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of their respective owners, while this little ficlet's idea is mine.
Pairing: J/E
Summary: Elizabeth dove before Will could stop her. Gibbs managed to grit out “Calm down, boy!” as the blacksmith tried to follow her over.  He fought back.  "For God's sake, she doesn't know how to swim!" he screamed.

EDIT: Barbossa Barbossa Barbossa.  There.  Sorry, guys.  This week has been absolutely insane...work, groups of eleven year olds sleeping over, and surgeries and tooth fillings...

AU: Elizabeth Page, daughter of New York's governor, is happy and content in her hectic, completely scheduled life as a museum curator-sort of.  But when a newly acquired piece of artwork is stolen and philanthropist and entrepreneur (read: THIEF) Jack Voegele sets off to find it and she follows, her life changes (though if it's for the worse or the better may take her longer to determine).

Bah.  Movie finished.  Got paid.  Got into NHS.  Got car.  Got problems out the wazzooo..  

Working on Kismet again...

          

I've never watched Gray's Anatomy before.  My mother does.  Then, the 2nd part of the season finale was on and I sat down when I saw the guy from Supernatural was on and I was like, "Ohmygawd this is pretty good.  Ohmygawd  how many times can he nearly die?  And those two have eye sex?  And how ugly is the pod doc?"  So next season, I will be watching.  Sheesh.


And Life with Derek...I've lost it...and I've read one too many Daseys...it only gets me more confused about my own sim. sit.


Ick.

I've waited until LAST MINUTE to do all of my J. Prom shopping. Take it from me, if you haven't gone yet, don't. Wear a paper bag. Or a lamp shade. Or don't go at all. Everything has been picked over and unless you're willing to shed big bucks/ found a genie, then just DON't GO.


Anywhoo, shout out to Nina, my faithful-as-ever reviewer. You rock, dear.

Sup? Remember me? I'm that piece of bones and flesh and stuff you're attached to? Yeah. Heh. Listen, could you do me a favor? Could you please, like, STOP ALLOWING IN ALL OF THE HOMELESS PLOT BUNNIES OUT THERE? AND THEN LETTING THEM USE MY HEAD LIKE A FREAKIN' BREEDING GROUND?!?! Great. Thanks. Buh-bye.

Snagged my icon from fairyxcake.   Thought I should give credit.

Why? Because I just finished Hannibal. And it was amazing, even the very end. Harris gets you to initially root for Lecter, and then in retrospect realize just how horrifying he really is. The dinner see is by far my favorite EVER in a book...

Clarice: (muttering about something in a drugged haze)

Lobotomized! Krendler: OMFG EVIL BITCH WHORE!

Lecter: (shoots him in head)

Clarice: (oblivious) Soo, anyway...

Now I have nothing to read for the rest of break. And I saw this blatantly ignoring Dante in the corner.