Monday, December 27, 2010

The Tragic Invention of the Epobmomic Macarbomy

Sometimes, I don't have very good pronunciation. This often happens after I do a bad rendition of a song I hate, during which I mash up the words and put on a silly voice, or after I just haven't been paying attention and I was JUST brought back into the world by some phrase that I somehow understood in or out of context. Last night, it was the second.

I was trying to fix a hand in a drawing I've been working on making wonderful, looking up to go back to the reference picture because I wanted to do the hair instead, when I heard, coming from the television in the next room over, something about people getting excited about the economy starting to get better. I heard the newscaster say, "a economic..." and I can't remember the second word because I just cannot decipher what it used to be before I mispronounced it. But, being the grammar-loving mispronouncer I am, I immediately felt this extremely undeniable urge to correct the TV because it wouldn't hear me and thus wouldn't get angry. I screamed at once, "AN epobmomic macarbomy!!!!" I guess my mom was able to tell what I meant, because she confirmed that I was right, and we went back to doing our own things (for me: Facebook. For her: TV).

So, I've decided that "epobmomic macarbomy" is a medical procedure used to remove the Epobma (a newly found virus) from various limbs on one's body. The condition is called Epoba. It is a serious and sometimes fatal condition. It is also highly contagious. However, it is only transmittable through direct contact between fingernails and toenails.

I had a similar endeavor once at a festival I attend twice a year. There was a sing-along happening, and the song where I said something stupid was a song about cats. It was a song about cats and half the song was a bunch of cat puns that the audience had to shout out. It was quite fun, and I felt so clever whenever I came up with one! Then came this:
What kind of cat is a total disaster?
I knew it, I knew it, and I shot quickly out of my strange in-head world and yelled, "CATASTROPHOGY!"
Somehow, the man running it understood that I meant to say ,"catastrophe," and we kept going.

You're Either Going to Love Me or Hate Me after Reading This Joke.


(Who's there?)

The ox.

(The ox, who?)


I thought of that one on the toilet.

A Breakthrough

I got a comment. :3

Thanks, Cat Woman. You're the first one in a month an a half.


Saturday, December 25, 2010

The Magic Wigglee (AKA: What I Got for Christmas)

I don't celebrate Christmas, and this is probably due to the fact that I am a Jew. However, this year, my siblings and I got a couple gifts. You know, we got some small things, like little calendars (mine had sleepy kitties!!!!), some chocolate, et cetera. But the seemingly greatest gift we got was a Magic Wigglee. It is this little, fluffy creature that you suspend from an "invisible" string (attached to the nose) and you make it do stuff-- I mean, it does stuff on its own. Observe.

The reason you hear me saying "crap" at the end is because the "invisible" string came off its nose.

But just imagine the kinds of adventures I could have with the Magic Wiglee!! I could-- no. Not really. Merry Christmas, everyone. I watched "A Christmas Story" twice last night, the second time with commentary. It did not snow.

I'm waking to a... greeeeen Christmaaaaas...

Monday, December 13, 2010

There Is Something Wrong with This Toilet.

The other day, I had a Spanish test. For me, Spanish comes pretty naturally, and I'm generally good at it, if I do say so myself, so I was finished with my test pretty quickly. When I was finished, I brought up my test to the teacher's desk and asked if I could go to the bathroom (in Spanish, yo!) and she said yes (in Spanish, yo!), so I thanked her (in Spanish, yo!) and left the room.

Now, in the pockets of my blue-green-teal-bluegreen coat, I carry various items, from an anti-polio button (which is now ON the pocket, thank you very much), to a big, blue highlighter, to a bag of rubber bands, to a couple of caution tape bandages, to a plastic horse (NOTE: The plastic horse was found in my pocket when I was in seventh grade, then ate a hole in my pocket later in the year, and I had to leave it at home, on my night table. I haven't seen him since. My hypothesis is that he left to see his boyfriend, Roxy, in England. I found Roxy, a Barbie horse, then lost him. I don't know where he is. I guess they're both in England. Someday, I'll post about them. Maybe.). This knowledge will come in handy later, making the rest of this story seem a lot less weird.

I went to the bathroom. I entered the bathroom. I counted the stalls (six), left out the handicapped one (five), then found the third one (the middle one). I opened the door. I went inside. I hung my coat on the hook on the backside of the door (those things become useful at wonderful times!). I pulled down my pants, etc. I sat down on the toilet. I did my business.

(NOTE: I was not that animated or excited about going to the bathroom, nor was the toilet smiling at the wall. Or you. Probably.)

When I was finished with my business, I pulled up my pants etc., put on my coat, and slammed my foot down on the lever thing that flushes the toilet. And slammed my foot down on the lever thing that flushes the toilet. And slammed my foot down on the lever thing that flushes the toilet. And kept my foot there for about three minutes, waiting for the toilet to just flush already because if I didn't go back within the next minute or so then the class would probably either assume that I went to get something to eat, was doing drugs, or was terminally ill. Eventually, I gave up. I took a long piece of toilet paper, stretched it across the top of the toilet paper dispenser (which looked something like this:

except without a smile. The toilet paper rolls were, however, visible, and looked a little like giant eyes. Creepy. Also, the toilet paper does not have those nice little rippy places. You have to do that on your own. I just needed a way to make it more identifiable as toilet paper.), and wrote the following in blue highlighter, which I had in my right coat pocket:

I then hung it between the handle of the toilet and the ladies' garbage bin thing that is attached to the wall between the stalls. After doing this, I awkwardly left the stall and went to the sink to wash my hands. While I was washing in water that was too freaking hot (I'm highly surprised that my hands didn't burn right then and there) for washing, a girl walked into the bathroom. She walked past me. She stepped into my stall. She read the note. She went into the next stall.

Another life saved by none other than me. Yes. I plan to go back into that bathroom at some point in the near future to check on the toilet. Maybe it will have been fixed by now. Maybe it won't. I hope it is fixed. It probably isn't.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Apparently, Polio and the Bubonic Plague are Still Being Protested. By Me.

So, when I was seven years old, maybe younger, probably younger, I went to a science museum. Maybe it was some other sort of museum, but it was probably a science museum. At this museum, there was an exhibit on polio. I had no idea what "eradicated" meant, and I also just obviously didn't understand that it was no longer a big threat to the United States, so I picked up a button that looks something like this:

Correction: It looks exactly like that, because it IS that.

I took it completely seriously and was absolutely convinced that it was a total threat to my life, and I had no idea that I had had a vaccination for it when I was a baby, which was probably due to being too young to remember such a thing. Well, recently I found this pin again and showed it to my brother.

BROTHER: What is that?

ME: An anti-polio badge. (NOTE: I considered saying, "I got it when I defeated Virusia, the leader of the Polio Gym in Appendages City." I didn't say it.)

BROTHER: [starts to laugh] You know polio was eradicated in the USA, right? You're protesting something that's no longer a threat. Where did you even get that?

ME: A museum when I was something like seven years old... or younger...

BROTHER: That's hilarious.

So I wore it to school the next day, on my hat. When my "twin" saw it, she said, "What is that?" I told her, then started chanting, "No more polio! No more oppression!" She joined in with, "No more bubonic plague!! No more unfair stuff!!" We had some good laughs.

The button now sits proudly on my right coat pocket.

FUN FACT: My first time spelling "eradicated" for this post looked like "raticate," like the pokemon, but with an extra "er" at the beginning and a "d" at the end.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

The Two Most Disappointing Clementines EVER

I just had the second most disappointing clementine ever.

It was not ripe, or something. It was the most tasteless fruit I've had since I can remember. It was bland and boring. It was everything that a clementine is not, except for orange, round, and beautiful. But it wasn't orange on its inside: It was white-ish. That is probably a sign that it was not fully ripened. Problem.

Tomorrow, or something, we're going to get a box of better, different clementines. It's happening. And they will be delicious. Fixed.

First most disappointing clementine ever: It was a tangerine.

So was the rest of its box...

...which said "CLEMENTINES" on it.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

How Having Legs and Arms Stopped Me from Getting in Trouble with the Teacher

Okay, so, at our school, there's four lunch waves. When I have math class, I go to third lunch. There are twenty minutes between each ringing of the bell, and then the kids at lunch have ten minutes before they have to go back to class. Today, I had math class, but the teacher said, "Guys, this is my fifth class in a row today. I haven't had a chance to drink coffee, or eat food... you want to go to second lunch?" So, when the second lunch bell rang, we got up and left the classroom, and the door was locked, as per usual.

At lunch, I realized that I should never, ever agree to go to second lunch on days when I have math class during lunch block, because there's almost nobody there who is my friend, so I awkwardly sit across the table from two girls from my class and one other, one of those two girls maybe angry at me but I'm not even sure. What a joy. What a life. What a chance. ("Thank You for the Music" --ABBA)

Finally, the bell sounded for third lunch, and I watched the friends around me grow abundant, and I chatted for a while. It did not occur to me until about "seven minutes" later that the three second lunch girls had all disappeared. I finished the story I was telling and I zoomed off to the classroom. When I got there, I was not greeted by (to put in more realistic terms: I did not come across) the usual crowd of my fellow math students. Two boys were exiting the bathroom and got to the door at the same time as me, however. Each of us tried opening the door...

But it was locked...

...and nearly everyone else was inside.

I checked my watch. This could not be for real. This only happens in TV shows. Right?

We tapped on the window of the door. My friends inside and the other people saw us, and two girls (one my friend, the other not) came to the door to open it. I was the nearest to the part of the door with no hinges (the part where it can swing open) and. The door was opened about a foot before the teacher said, "No, close the door." The door was about to be closed right in my face, but I pushed it open just enough to jump in over the trash can that was next to the doorway, and I made it safely inside, and sat down. The teacher somehow, luckily, did not notice. Somehow, neither did my friend who came to open the door. I said her name and she turned around, and said, "Wait, how'd you get inside??" I told her, "I jumped."

Then the teacher went out to talk to the other kids who had come late. He seemed really mad. I was safe. I was okay. I was safe.

I thanked the other girl, while the teacher was outside, for not shutting the door on my nose.

Then I reset my watch to say what the school clocks say.