Your Sister is a Snow-Driving Superstar!

Yeah, I put up posters. Aaaall over. They say, "Amy Wants You To Read Her Blog" and has a big chariacature of me pointing at the reader, Uncle Sam-style.

I found out where the student lounge is and I might go over there later on today. The only problem is that unless they have free food, there's not really anything over there to draw me in. Arcade games? TVs? Air hockey? Not really my thing. Maybe they have really comfy couches. All I need to survive this really long break is a comfy chair and an outlet so I can plug in my laptop. And there's free food at the Writing Center anyway. At the moment it's honey mustard and onion pretzels, which are surprisingly delicious. And coffee, which is good too. So I'm sitting in a hallway on a comfy chair next to an outlet and some vending machines (and a lady who's been sitting here staring into space for the last fifteen minutes, kind of starting to weird me out), and I'm all set.

Today I read a paper that was submitted online that was a high school student's reinterpretation of the phrase "all's fair in love and war". I thought of you. The only problem was that it soon became obvious that she didn't understand the generally accepted meaning of the phrase and she had no idea where she was going with it, ultimately BSing something about romance during wartime and covering up her BS with flowery language. I wasn't fooled. But how do you tell someone that they need to restart their entire paper from scratch? Let me tell you - it's a lot easier to do it over the internet. We tutors don't even have to sign the emails with our names, so we can bluff if any wronged students come to the WC looking for blood.

You know how last night it snowed? Well I'm here to tell you that I AM AWESOME and was able to slip and slide my way to school in a half-hour (which is what it generally takes on a normal snow-free day). Just thought I'd let you know. However, you'll probably be hearing from me after work meeting because I'll need to know if it's safe to drive on Nelson and whatnot. Since it's probably pretty soupy down there.

When I get home we need to party with Kristin and that one guy because they'll be leaving sometime. Sunday? Monday? Anyway. We should make them a card or something so they don't forget about us.

Cheers,

Amy

Slacker.

What, is our blog famous or something? Are you putting up posters around the school that say, "Go to this blog, ITS TOTALLY AWESOME!" or something?
As true as that may be, that's still weird.

Is he looking at your history on the computer? Ehh! Sneaky. I admire a sneaky man. He is a man, right? I think Brendan sounds like a man name. Is be Brendan Fraser? Is he the one that looks like Michael Cera?

Speaking of Brendan Fraser, go to his IMDB, his profile picture made me laugh (on the inside) for like ten minutes.

That means I'll be laughing for the next nine and a half minutes inside.

Uhh, I don't think its cool that all that personal "Comm." makes you mad. It shouldn't. And don't fume in your journal while you're around people. If you're going to be mad let everyone know, but if its a dumb reason keep it to your self and suck it up.

Joseph got me Bolt.

And I'm going to watch Ramona and Beezus.

Sooo... stay classy.

Don't get in trouble.

BYE

Delinquency!

Yeah, it's kind of sad how Heroes gets not so cool after the first season.

Guess what! I SKIPPED A CLASS. My first time this semester. Here's how it happened:

So I was busy busy, rushing around the campus doing things that were arguably productive, like work and yoga, and then I went to Personal Comm. So I was sitting there in the classroom before the class started. It was really hot in there, and the teacher was writing out all the things she was going to talk to us about after we finish this film (Bend it Like Beckham, only so-so). This has gone on for three classes, where we watch a part of the film and afterwards we go into exhaustive (and I mean exhaustive) detail about all the relationships in the film and the communication of it and the culture of it, all of which is readily evident and only really warrants a passing mention in class. The inanity of it and the time being wasted was making me so mad that I would end up writing inflammatory things in my notebook to keep myself from listening or talking (or else I would become even more mad). So today, when I sat down in class and saw the teacher preparing for another round of this, I suddenly thought, "I don't even have to be here!" So I got up and just left.

You might not think that's a very spectacular story, but skipping a class is really major for me. I'm supposed to be a responsible tutor! But I'm actually not a very good example. You can be certain that tomorrow I'm going to be obsessively checking Angel (the online part of the class) to see if the teacher assigned anything while I was pooped out. I don't know why I even skip classes if the stress of skipping makes me so jittery.

There is a guy here (I'm in the Writing Center, did I mention that?) who's wearing a newsboy cap with rhinestones on it. Whaaat?

Last night, I went to Angela's play with her. I can see why she didn't want Mom and Dad to see it since it's pretty crude or whatever. I didn't really mind. I kind of liked it. Some of it was funny, and the rest of it was just horrible. The story, I mean. It was depressing. UMKC is pretty nice, as far as I could see. Probably nicer than UCM, which is a little depressing, but I can handle it. I think the real problem is that I have had this mentality all along that Warrensburg is a small town of similar ilk to Harrisonville or somewhere sad like that, and that's the reason I've been dreading it a bit all along. Hopefully I'm wrong.

I'm pretty sure that we would be a really boring family if Mom had never made us cook and clean together. Food is like the centerpiece of our relationships. And I'm okay with that.

I think I've vomited up enough words for today.

-Amy

P.S. Elise gets home on Sunday. We should go to the airport with Auntie Ann.

P.P.S. One of my co-workers found out about this blog through no fault of my own. If you're reading this, Brendan, BUGGER OFF.

Kidding.

-Amy

Don't be a chicken.

Chickens are ugly. Chickens are noisy and dirty. Chickens are the bane of the birds existences.

You know at family reunions theres always that one really weird really drunk uncle (I said uncle because whenever anyone says anything about weird or rich relatives they always say uncle. I didn't say that because we have a few of them, I just said it because its what most people can relate to) that everyone is always kind of ashamed to be related to?

Thats what the entire bird family thinks of chickens. Chickens are the dumb ones that have no brains and after four weeks their legs are too weak to support there meatiness.

Chickens are like the extra who gets killed off before the opening credits of the show. That guys life is always way too short for him to have a name, he's just there to get the point across of how dangerous the villain of the episode is.

Chickens are like that because their lives are so short that no one cares enough to genetically change their legs to support their genetically changed fatness. The chickens are not there for their life, they're there for food.

So don't be a chicken Amy.

Yesterday I made my awesome cookies for youth group, but they didn't really turn out awesome because they were kind of dry. Heres what I hate: dry cookies.

Heres what else I hate: popcorn.

Mom made me bring lots of popcorn, but no one really ate it, and then I got Jack take it all home. The cookie dough for these cookies was like heaven, and Kristin was in the kitchen doing something on her computer.

I had put heath pieces in, and she was talking about how she needed at least one cookie because she was watching me make them.

Then I told her she could have the mixer things, and she pretty much said she would do anything for me. She was so happy. I don't think I've ever seen her so excited about anything. Ever.

She kind of got high and I was making fun of her being sarcastic, and we were both giggling (but mostly just her) and then she said,

"Vitamins should be made with toffee."

And I was like, "I'm pretty sure the planet would implode."

and then Joseph came in and was like, "Everyone would die from vitamin overdose."

I don't know why I told you that story. I guess I just wanted you to know that your poem is very accurate.

Everything happens in the kitchen.

I don't think I would know Joseph at all if we didn't clean the kitchen together. Like at all.

I'm still watching heroes. I'm still on the second season. Its pretty good. I didn't like how Hiro went to the 1600, that kind of seemed like a really weird side story for a really main character. It reminded me of Inkheart, in the second book when all this weird stuff happens to all the main characters, and its like every chapter is about someone else in a different time and place and planet. Yeah.

Peter is still awesome, which is good. His Irish girlfriend is out of the picture, lets hope forever.

Sylar is just not in it enough. I don't like that every time I see him is when I see those dumb Mexicans.

I know how racist that sounds, but they really are annoying. That Maya girl is all like, "My eyes can turn black and I can cry tar, and I can make everyone around me pass out....or something....."

and then Alejandro is like, "I can counteract her creepy non-power by holding her hands and looking in her eyes...kind of...I think...."

I like that Adam guy. I kind of think I've seen him in something else.

Micah is awesome, his mom is not. And DL is dead. Why don't they just call him Daniel? thats an awesome name!

Claire still has that boyfriend or something. Her dad just got killed and then before that episode he got healed.

I kind of felt like thats happened before.....LIKE TEN TIMES.

It happened to Claire, it happened to him, it happened to Sylar and it happened to Peter a couple of times.

Everyone is dying, and reviving, but now even the non hero people are reviving!

I kind of hoped that would be the end of Mr. Bennett. I really can't stand him. He's annoying and weirdly over protective.

Matt is being awesome. I liked the whole thing with his dad.

Now he has mind manipulation. I hope it doesn't turn him into a bad guy.

Stay Classy,

-Mitchy Ray

Slacker!

I'm calling you a slacker! Basically sometimes at work I have nothing to do so I go and obsessively check the blog, even though the amount of times per week that anything happens on it is like three. And I feel dumb getting on Facebook here because it makes me feel like all the other college students who come to the WC to get on Facebook. Besides, this is work. It's just not a good idea. So I'll write a blog post to pass some time.

I was going to do this in the other room (LIB 307) because it's more out of the way, but I got in there and realised that the entire room smells like a cat peed in a corner. You know that stale cat pee smell. I have no idea how the smell got there (unless there was a homeless person sleeping there recently), but it's strong enough that I don't want to walk in there to help anyone any more.

So I shared my poem in Creative Writing last night (I changed it up a little bit since posting it here, but it was essentially the same) and even though Angela thought that it was a little too harsh of a representation of our family life (probably was), a lot of the people in the class liked it and a couple of them came up to me after class to tell me that they really liked it. I feel affirmed! However, this doesn't mean that I'm ever going to enjoy writing poetry. Some of the people in that class crack me up. Creative writing people are never quite normal, you know? We've got everything in there, from cutting-my-wrists poems to poetry about the military and patriotic duty and suchlike. I would find it all very interesting if I weren't this close to falling asleep the entire time. Six to nine at night is not a very good time for a writing class.

I'm in the slow process of editing (i.e. making readable) my story so I can send it to you. I feel bad about it because there are "thematic elements" (really, what does that even mean?) in it that you probably won't like or I won't like you to read because I wasn't thinking about readers when I wrote them and suddenly it all seems very risky to me. In short, I'm starting to chicken out but I must force myself not to! At the moment I'm writing a section of it that includes a little backstory of the anti-hero and his little sister who tired to commit suicide. I don't like it at all, but I don't know where to go to get the info I need to make it convincing. Sigh.

Okay, my shift starts in a couple of minutes. I'll see you later honey bun (sounds delicious right now).

-Amy

Poems are dumb, yeah, poems are no fun. See what I did there?

This is the kitchen, where we bicker about everything;
past transgressions and fresh wrongdoing.
In the kitchen, nothing we do is ever right.
The dish is never clean enough,
and you should wipe the counter again
because you were too lazy the first time around
and I can still see crumbs.
We point fingers with secret smiles;
we twist the knife and laugh.
We confess our affection by causing strife
and with dissent, commit love.
But in the end, someone has to scrub the pot;
the one that's encrusted with dried, melted cheese.

I'm finished with that. FINISHED, I tell you! I shall never touch it again (except to print out 22 copies. dumb). I don't care if it's the worst poem you've ever read, or that it's not a poem at all. I don't care!

I've decided that we need a poetry tag, so I have created one. Capiche?

The poem response

So I'm writing this blog post, as a response to yours, I'm also timing myself.

I'd say its more of a rap though...

Gimme a beat, here.

Yeah, its totally cool when people check you out,

its like the care and feel like you know what you're about

Yeah but most the time they just checking out your hair,

or trying to tell you your fly is unzipped, like you care.

No I care about my fly,

But the amount of material there is unreal,

So if you don't care, thats all right,

just go on thinking they're checking you out, thats tight.

I could really go somewhere with this rapping biz,

I'm good so good, like the coke to the fiz,

and no I'm not talking about drugs,

why does everyone assume that?

If I were talking about drugs I would use drug lingo,

not the name of a classic yummy brown soft drinko

Did you know they found the secret ingredient in coke?

Its got alcohol in it, isn't that crazy? I don't know if I believe it,

but what the heck, I don't drink coke cause it makes me want sneeze-it.

I'm pretty sure I'm a rhymin fool,

I pun like a rapper and I work like a tool,

Did you get that one? Not surprised you're too slow to keep up

I'm going places with my rappety name,

I got cars and money and boys and fame,

Mitchy Ray goin' to the top in this game,

I probably own your house so don't you dare say this's lame

I got the works, yes I do, I got style and glam,

On the weekends I go out and hang with the fam.

You shouldn't be surprised that I'm a down to earth kid,
I've got talent and I'm worth it and I know what I did,

I've got people and homeys and lots of bling bling,

I got silver necklaces and a big gold ring,

I got fame and fortune and a little o' errythin

Confidence is key and looks are the lock,

So do what you do and don't forget to let it rock!

14 minutes. Yeah.

-stay classy.

I may rap this to you when you get home.