reKant, contrary exodus
Heh, it's been a weird couple o' days. There's twenty-six of me and so fell Lord Perth, or something. (Translation: my mind's acting funny and I just started Wolves of the Calla.)
Um... I did almost nothing today except work on things for school. History and Chemistry homework, essays for English class (actually, at least I liked the book they were on...A Raisin in the Sun), and preparations for my Science Fair Project...which I must paint tonight and experiment with tomorrow. Don't even bother asking, because I'll probably stab the next person I must explain it to in the pancreas, or something. Because explaining it just induces nagging, I've found. And nagging is something I think I've had enough of today.
My room's all cold and stuff. OH, and I've come to the conclusion that for some reason I rarely hurt myself in a way that might be considered NORMAL. Whenever I hurt myself, it's in the most stupidly weird way EVAR. I mean, one time I accidentally overdosed on Claritin. I walk into doors and door frames (and windows, too, somehow). One time I ran into a tree while I was skiing (and once on a bike, too). Slipping on ice...and on waxed floors, too. Having a 180-pound dog run into me whilst hyper. Getting bitten by a duck (don't ask). Attacked by guinea hens (they really can't do that much damage, actually). Yes, odd. But those aren't even the most bizarre. I manage to find REALLY WEIRD ways of hurting myself. Like yesterday. Okay, so I walked in the door, and I looked in the cabinet. There was this tin of peanuts, and I picked it up for some reason, and I was holding it to the side, and then I felt dizzy and almost fell over, and when I staggered, I smashed my left-hand pinky finger in between the edge of the slab of wood that is the sideboard of our cabinet and this three-pound tin of nuts. And then a box fell on me. AND IT WOULDN'T STOP BLEEDING, my finger, I mean. It's unbelievable how much blood is in that little finger. It was numb, anyway, but it wouldn't stop bleeding, even when I put a band-aid on it (and for some ungodly reason, we never have any normal band-aids in this house, only non-stick knee-pad-sized band-aids and those little circular ones for papercuts that never stick). So eventually I just got pissed off and sucked on it until it stopped. My finger's still kinda numb, actually... *blink* So basically, I bet I'm one of the first (somehow I think I'm not THE first) to hurt myself with a three-pound tin of nuts.
Moral of the story...don't underestimate mortal stupidity, or something.
Oh, and not to mention the two-dimensional sponge-monkey and vat of vanilla pudding in my brain...
...yeah, it's been a weird couple o' days.
Not that I'm complaining; I'm just stating everything as a matter of fact, really. I actually think it's kinda funny. It's like laughing after you slip on the ice, which is something I do.
Um... I did almost nothing today except work on things for school. History and Chemistry homework, essays for English class (actually, at least I liked the book they were on...A Raisin in the Sun), and preparations for my Science Fair Project...which I must paint tonight and experiment with tomorrow. Don't even bother asking, because I'll probably stab the next person I must explain it to in the pancreas, or something. Because explaining it just induces nagging, I've found. And nagging is something I think I've had enough of today.
My room's all cold and stuff. OH, and I've come to the conclusion that for some reason I rarely hurt myself in a way that might be considered NORMAL. Whenever I hurt myself, it's in the most stupidly weird way EVAR. I mean, one time I accidentally overdosed on Claritin. I walk into doors and door frames (and windows, too, somehow). One time I ran into a tree while I was skiing (and once on a bike, too). Slipping on ice...and on waxed floors, too. Having a 180-pound dog run into me whilst hyper. Getting bitten by a duck (don't ask). Attacked by guinea hens (they really can't do that much damage, actually). Yes, odd. But those aren't even the most bizarre. I manage to find REALLY WEIRD ways of hurting myself. Like yesterday. Okay, so I walked in the door, and I looked in the cabinet. There was this tin of peanuts, and I picked it up for some reason, and I was holding it to the side, and then I felt dizzy and almost fell over, and when I staggered, I smashed my left-hand pinky finger in between the edge of the slab of wood that is the sideboard of our cabinet and this three-pound tin of nuts. And then a box fell on me. AND IT WOULDN'T STOP BLEEDING, my finger, I mean. It's unbelievable how much blood is in that little finger. It was numb, anyway, but it wouldn't stop bleeding, even when I put a band-aid on it (and for some ungodly reason, we never have any normal band-aids in this house, only non-stick knee-pad-sized band-aids and those little circular ones for papercuts that never stick). So eventually I just got pissed off and sucked on it until it stopped. My finger's still kinda numb, actually... *blink* So basically, I bet I'm one of the first (somehow I think I'm not THE first) to hurt myself with a three-pound tin of nuts.
Moral of the story...don't underestimate mortal stupidity, or something.
Oh, and not to mention the two-dimensional sponge-monkey and vat of vanilla pudding in my brain...
...yeah, it's been a weird couple o' days.
Not that I'm complaining; I'm just stating everything as a matter of fact, really. I actually think it's kinda funny. It's like laughing after you slip on the ice, which is something I do.