Best weekend ever
Random: On Friday afternoon, I mixed up Dustin's toothbrush and the designated old-cleaning-toothbrush. I used his to sort of poke at a drain clog, and put it away under the sink. Oops. The kind of creepy thing is, it took him THREE DAYS to ask me "Hey, what happened to my toothbrush?"
Um.
So Constance came and we had a BLAST. A complete and total blast and she is awesome and I love her to pieces and I'm so sad she's gone and yaay. There was much cuddling of a reluctant kitty and much discussion over people who are difficult to buy Christmas presents for and cute boys and Katie and people from church and much ranting and a ridiculous amount of being-bums and TV consumed and Guitar Hero played and there was Red Robin and quiche and Oreo milkshakes.
My sister ROCKS. And I miss her lots.
The highlight, of course, was all day Saturday at Six Flags. I have been waiting to go there basically since we decided to move here and I am so happy we finally got there cause it was AWESOME. It was bigger than I expected, and louder, and more Disney-land (somehow I was expecting it to be more "here are roller coasters, go!" and less little win-a-stuffed animal booths and people in Tweety-bird costumes shaking kids hands) and also, considering it's the middle of winter, WAY WAY WAY more crowded than I expected. We only rode six roller coasters. Really. Cause the lines, they are stupid. And now there is nothing that I want more in the entire world than to go back with dad and three of those Flash Pass things (or better yet, six of those Flash Pass things since they are only good for four rides each) and do it again with massively abbreviated lines. Seriously, that is all I am asking my parents for for Christmas. I feel like a little kid begging to go to Disneyland, cause that's totally what I am. I want to go back to Six Flags! With Flash Passes this time! So bad I can't stand it!
I am amused to find out that neither Constance nor I are roller-coaster-screamers. No, no screaming for us, not at all. Instead, we are roller-coaster-gigglers. You know those high-pitched screams women are always doing in horror movies? Well, if Constance and I ever came face-to-face with a psychopath wielding flaming chainsaws, we would totally not scream. No, we would convulse in breathless, helpless, inane giggles. (You know, if a victimette-of-the-week on Supernatural ever actually did that, instead of screaming, I would send the writer of the episode effusive love letters FOREVER. Seriously) Yup. Hysterical fear-and-adrenaline-fueled gigglers, that's us. Identical reactions. That makes me so happy.
While we were witing in line (for the Riddler, I think, which we didn't get to go on at all because they said "brief technical difficulties" when we still had 45 minutes of line to go, and that makes me so sad because standing-up coaster intrigues me) we got very very very bored. So I asked Constance to tell me a story. And she complied, promptly and with no apparent thought, with a charming story beginning "Once upon a time" and ending up with the CSI team investigating the mysterious deaths of three bears in a cabin in the woods (Goldilocks did it). Then I told her one about how Little Red Riding Hood put out a reward for her grandmother's killer, so a pie-maker touched Grandma's body, only to conclude that he could never collect a reward for "a big bad wolf". Then she told me one about how Snow White fled the evil queen's threat of apple-born biological warfare and stumbled upon a cabin in the woods with seven dwarves (one could fly, one could heal, one could hear people's thoughts, one could go invisible, one could mimic people, one could talk to electronics, one could paint the future, and one had super-strength) and together they saved Snow White, and thus the world. Then I told her one about how three little pig brothers had to build houses, but the Big Bad Black Dog blew down the straw house, and barked at the door and rattled down the wood house- but then Sam and Dean saw the strange newspaper article about two myseriously collapsed houses, and shot the black dog with silver and sage and salted and burned, and the third little pig was greatful. Then she told one... with Numb3rs, but I forget what fairytale.
The crazy thing is that she hasn't seen Bedtime Stories yet. Do you remember how I was so happy at what an awesome fangirl my sister was turning into? Yeah. *happy*
Um.
So Constance came and we had a BLAST. A complete and total blast and she is awesome and I love her to pieces and I'm so sad she's gone and yaay. There was much cuddling of a reluctant kitty and much discussion over people who are difficult to buy Christmas presents for and cute boys and Katie and people from church and much ranting and a ridiculous amount of being-bums and TV consumed and Guitar Hero played and there was Red Robin and quiche and Oreo milkshakes.
My sister ROCKS. And I miss her lots.
The highlight, of course, was all day Saturday at Six Flags. I have been waiting to go there basically since we decided to move here and I am so happy we finally got there cause it was AWESOME. It was bigger than I expected, and louder, and more Disney-land (somehow I was expecting it to be more "here are roller coasters, go!" and less little win-a-stuffed animal booths and people in Tweety-bird costumes shaking kids hands) and also, considering it's the middle of winter, WAY WAY WAY more crowded than I expected. We only rode six roller coasters. Really. Cause the lines, they are stupid. And now there is nothing that I want more in the entire world than to go back with dad and three of those Flash Pass things (or better yet, six of those Flash Pass things since they are only good for four rides each) and do it again with massively abbreviated lines. Seriously, that is all I am asking my parents for for Christmas. I feel like a little kid begging to go to Disneyland, cause that's totally what I am. I want to go back to Six Flags! With Flash Passes this time! So bad I can't stand it!
I am amused to find out that neither Constance nor I are roller-coaster-screamers. No, no screaming for us, not at all. Instead, we are roller-coaster-gigglers. You know those high-pitched screams women are always doing in horror movies? Well, if Constance and I ever came face-to-face with a psychopath wielding flaming chainsaws, we would totally not scream. No, we would convulse in breathless, helpless, inane giggles. (You know, if a victimette-of-the-week on Supernatural ever actually did that, instead of screaming, I would send the writer of the episode effusive love letters FOREVER. Seriously) Yup. Hysterical fear-and-adrenaline-fueled gigglers, that's us. Identical reactions. That makes me so happy.
While we were witing in line (for the Riddler, I think, which we didn't get to go on at all because they said "brief technical difficulties" when we still had 45 minutes of line to go, and that makes me so sad because standing-up coaster intrigues me) we got very very very bored. So I asked Constance to tell me a story. And she complied, promptly and with no apparent thought, with a charming story beginning "Once upon a time" and ending up with the CSI team investigating the mysterious deaths of three bears in a cabin in the woods (Goldilocks did it). Then I told her one about how Little Red Riding Hood put out a reward for her grandmother's killer, so a pie-maker touched Grandma's body, only to conclude that he could never collect a reward for "a big bad wolf". Then she told me one about how Snow White fled the evil queen's threat of apple-born biological warfare and stumbled upon a cabin in the woods with seven dwarves (one could fly, one could heal, one could hear people's thoughts, one could go invisible, one could mimic people, one could talk to electronics, one could paint the future, and one had super-strength) and together they saved Snow White, and thus the world. Then I told her one about how three little pig brothers had to build houses, but the Big Bad Black Dog blew down the straw house, and barked at the door and rattled down the wood house- but then Sam and Dean saw the strange newspaper article about two myseriously collapsed houses, and shot the black dog with silver and sage and salted and burned, and the third little pig was greatful. Then she told one... with Numb3rs, but I forget what fairytale.
The crazy thing is that she hasn't seen Bedtime Stories yet. Do you remember how I was so happy at what an awesome fangirl my sister was turning into? Yeah. *happy*