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Squid
well, it used to be called donkeys
So far, you've missed Summer and After Summer Sanders specials
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(Two years later = Novem2004) Just to clear things up, the toilet seat somehow fixed itself two years ago. It probably figured that escaping is useless because no other home would want it. Wow, I can't believe how good I used to be at being a pessimist! I can't write such silly things anymore because I have brain none. School allows for no sleep and no thoughts. When I watch TV, I either don't pay attention and space out, or I think about my thoughts on what I'm watching, and thus don't pay attention to what I'm actually watching. My feets is cold! I want red bean something. Not really. Sorta. Maybe. Tabun ne. In conclusion, I'll koko ni kaeru once I find my brain in the dumpster and clean it with pearl tea. Sorekara... sugary fish egg thoughts!
----------------- After Summer (most recent is in the garbage)
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(22 days later) First it was the blueberry scone, and now it's my good friend the bagel who has started to hang with the bad kids. Why, I oughta have a little chat with their mothers, for it was their children who forced green, internal tattoos on to my pure little bagel child. I I I I couldn't even scold the bagel, for I had already eating the brain before I came across the acrid splotch of Satan! And this time it wasn't even the tricky toaster's fault (Oh don't think I forgot about that time you broke off a piece of your metal and stuck it to my bagel, mr. toaster), it was all my bagel bad choices and your rotten kids' doings! I guess it's time to just move on and find a new bundle of energy which won't ever start taking that wacky tobaccy which turns them all rotten on the insides. Uh... I don't know how much more of this I can type. Hey, oranges don't ever get moldy, do they? Alright! Well, I'd better cross out "bagel time" on my government issued personal calendar and write in "orange time"! Let's pretend this never happened. It's ok, because a lot of the things I say are incoherent.
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(Issue 3,312,904: December is warm) I think that a lot of the people in my PE class don't take showers... ever. There are certain people who I am positive don't bathe, while others just seem to produce buckets upon buckets of liquid stink after stretching for five seconds. When I walk past an area where one of those stink beasts once stood, I can still smell their terrible fetor. They have pit stains, splotchy golden stains, and one huge stain down the back of their shirts where I suppose their back meats poop. I don't know about you, but never have I witnessed any juices being born from the skin on my back. Today I was paired up with one of these massive malodors (the one who sports an impressive rat tail, which his mother braids for him on special occasions) in basketball, and it was just one long game of see how fast you can stink up the entire gym by running around and exposing your armpits to the previously unpolluted air. Eventually, I managed to shut off my olfactory lobe and forget about the fact that all of the gaseous chemicals were becoming a part of me by entering through my nostrils. During this short period of time in which my smelling senses were numbed, I took time to notice that there are some really weird... beings... in my class. Well for one, the other girl in my group became furious at the basketball for some reason, probably relating back to the fact that her father doesn't love her, and her face turned so red, I swear if the bell had rang one minute later she would have exploded and killed us all. Another person was off in the corner of the gym, shooting baskets by himself, but also furiously. He kept walking away from the basket and then all of a sudden, abruptly and violently rotated himself to face the other direction and slammed the ball into the backboard. It looked like he was trying to trick the basket by walking away and then unexpectedly attacking it. He also was drenched in stench. Based upon my observations, I am making the conclusion (without any consideration of your stinky feelings) that genuinely foul fart creatures don't have time to shower because they are just so angry and need to spend their time sulking in a corner, smashing things, or killing things. If you lock your fingers together and wiggle them just like this, you can make a caterpillar shadow!
A few people in my English class had no idea what an adjective is, or what pessimistic means. Son, get the gun.
Which brings me to another point. On my history quiz, my extremely catholic teacher took a point off because I did not capitalize the "G" in god... referring to THE one and only supreme being... and he said he spelling and grammar didn't count on the quiz. Hohohoh! I mean, oh man I am so sorry for disrespecting Him, how many Hail Marys?
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(Issue 7: The October Editon) HALLOWEENIEEEEEEEEEEEEEES! And that's where my brain goes bee sting boom.
----------------- Summer Collection (most recent is on top of the pile)
(Two weeks and four days later) Well, the day that we have all been dreading has finally come. Yep, the toilet seat AND lid have teamed up to form a super unsanitary team and figured out how to break out of the horrible poopy prison that you all thought was inescapable. I thought this would be the day when we would be left with no choice but to buy a new, hygienic toilet seat + lid (well, that or move my office elsewhere). But, being the parsimonious stink beast that I am, I'm just going to pretend the toilet seat is still attached to the toilet, instead of buying a new one. Hmm... maybe some super glue will help.
I'm supposed to call back an enthusiastic senior named Romy, but I don't think I will. Anyone who is excited about a barbecue with hundreds of hormone driven kids is not someone who I would enjoy talking to over the phone. I don't want to go to orientation, mommy. ;( Ahh, I can just smell that social anxiety of mine. When I missed that girl's phone call I was busy riding in a car listening to the tapping of a huge nail on one of the tires each time it completed a revolution. During that unstable drive of doom, I told my mother and brother that when I die, I want to donate my body to science, because I know how fun it is to poke at organs. Mama highly disapproved of this, because cadavers make her uncomfortable, even though she used to do autopsies on people when she was younger. She eventually asked, "can't we just keep you in a box on the shelf?" So I told her that she can keep my hand in a jar on the shelf, or any other body part of her choice. Ow, my brain hurts... I don't want to talk to you anymore.
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(Issue 5: The August Edition) Rabbit Rabbit. I woke up yesterday only to see my father's grisly face hovering above mine, scowling down at me because he couldn't figure out how to turn off my simple alarm clock. I was extremely startled to see him, but more angered because damnit, you don't stand over people when they're sleeping! I don't know how long the quiet beeping of the alarm clock was going on for, but couldn't he have just told me to turn it off? Or at least had someone else barge into my room and wake me from my one hour dream of Subway sandwiches and Jerry Springer? I do wake up when someone talks to me. Papa is the last person I want hovering over me at 6 in the morning.
You know how you've always wanted to have a pregnant raccoon as a pet? Well today is your lucky day, kid! 'Cause I've got one living under my roof and above my ceiling, and I've become tired of it. You can have her, free of charge! All you have to do is crawl through the hole in the chimney and drag 'er out. She feels the need to tear apart the wood that supports houses, so be sure to feed her a plank of wood everyday. My hands are cold on one side and hot on the other. :/
Don't stand over me when I'm sleeping! You got mail?
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(I'm hungry! JULY)
I like:
the twilight zone, the sound of Noah's door latching shut, the smell of Caitlin's pillows, soccer socks, pins, blueberry scones (without the mold), baguettes, Bjork, playing hide and seek, playing Monopoly, kitties (cats), the cloudy beaches in California, Hidden Villa, Point Reyes, plants, animals, anime (mostly miyazake + evangelion + lain[yoshitoshi abe] + cowboy bebop + lum), good tv (strangers with candy, sealab 2021, invader zim, etc.), taking pictures, drawing, sharing incoherent brain leak sessions with peers, birdies, pumpkins, Laffy Taffy, Baja Fresh burritos, when Mama makes nachos, when it rains, dressing up as clowns/robots/homeless people/old people/the unabomber and more, those brief moments when i can take deep breaths through my nose, being around people who aren't complete idiots, fuzzy things, cookies, ramen, Halloween, sleeping, earthquakes, tomatoes...
I dislike:
meat, hypocrites, people who waste thousands of dollars on useless items... like a little ornamental cross, when Papa calls me by Noah or Alia or Mia, Papa, when people can't spell, humans in general, competitive athletes, playing sports with extremely competitive people in P.E, art classes, art teachers, Nakajima Sensei, dog poop, the sound of someone blowing their nose, being close to people who don't take showers very often, when skeletons say to me "I'm really hungry, but if I eat something I'll look like such a pig because I'm really fat," lard, Martha Stewart, seagulls who like pooping in the pool that you are swimming in, big trucks, babies, my friends, movie theaters, places with lots of people, large open places with lots of people and still lots of empty space but no large objects to stand behind, being cold when my sweatshirts are in the washing machine, sitting next to people in class who smell like cigarettes, staying up until 5:00am and starting a homework assignment that was assigned 3 weeks before and is due in the morning, having the flu, how I always befriend the crazy ones, driving in a car with people who like to keep their retarded music on very loud, in class essays, the concept of cheerleading, warm weather, makeup, L.A, not wearing a watch, the sound of my dog barking, sand in my hair, being falsely accused, mosquitoes, wind-blown hair, running...
I hate:
when Noah leaves things open (cereal boxes, bread bags, jelly jars, etc.), how Papa is always asking stupid questions, when Papa imitates Rusty's bark, how Papa always answers the phone with his mouth full, hugs...
I dislike, but long for:
the smell of my robot costume, car crashes involving friends.
I forgot how to:
tell people that I hate them, pay attention in P.E, play any musical instrument, juggle.
I fear:
getting trapped in a cave on a beach when the tide comes in, spiders, getting in trouble, lying on my bed when the light above it explodes and comes crashing down and sets me on fire, being the cause of a huge fire, being in this house when there is a large scale earthquake, shower/pool drains, imaginary gremlins grabbing my ankles when i sit on the couch/bed with my feet on the ground, those noises you hear at night when you are camping without a tent, death.
I:
constantly twist and twirl the strings on my sweatshirt (I'm doing it at this very moment), slouch, procrastinate, found a spider in my hair last week, have never and will never have the chicken pox, have never been stung by a bee, need to rotate objects so that they do not make the surrounding objects feel squished, need to rotate objects so that the only way they could fall on the ground would be if someone were to push them, think I just saw a huge spider crawling on that wall, think that "Dancer in the Dark" is by far the most depressing movie I have ever seen, do not expect anyone to actually read this, do not chew my hair, am not a serial killer, was bored on July 30, 2002.
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(many weeks later) The toilet seat in the slightly superior bathroom is slowly getting progressively wobblier, and someday it is going to take advantage of those weak toilet hinges. When that day comes, it will and hop off the cold, grungy toilet and run away to somewhere beautiful and far away, perhaps the bathroom floor. But the horrible truth is that once something in this house runs away, breaks, or dies, no one bothers to fix it. I will have to adapt by moving my office into the other, less desirable toilet room, where the sink and shower have ceased to function. I will have to rotate my lifestyle to left the a bit, just because of a detached plastic oval. So, if any of you stink beasts out there have a spare 46x36 toilet seat, let me know.
Zat is enough fire, you prance around like you have laser eyes.
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(34 days later) I am just a limbless entity who always ends up with the moldy scone, or the rotten berries, or the spider infested walnuts. I just wanted to take some time from my busy day of lying around and occasionally flipping out at the sight of a spider crawling on my arm, to sit down and fill my stomach with something pastry-like. One of those fresh from the bakery blueberry scones seemed like just the thing to satisfy my urge to kill... I mean, my hunger. Sure, at first the pastry tasted like the sweet sugar-soaked bread that I expected, but the second bite was not such a delight. If human feces came in little individual packets of intensity, like hot sauce, then what was in my mouth would have been dabbed with some of the "medium" poop sauce. I didn't spit it out at first, and I still haven't. I looked at the bottom of the scone, where the poop stench seemed to emanate from, and sure enough, after digging a little into the fluffiness, there was some nice green mold growing and laughing at the success of its wonderful prank. Confound it! Moldy food: 29, Kaija: 0. At least I can count on those stomach acids of mine to beat that fungus to a bloody pulp.
I realized that it was the Aviation Museum that rekindled my interest in mannequins. When I was forced to go there and watch over a group of fourty 8 year old summer camp kids, there was this one mannequin that had the body and clothes of a woman, but one of the heads they make specially for men was screwed on atop her neck, facial hair included. I remember thinking, "Man, it must be fun to make those," and then I shook the stink beast kids off my back, found someone older than 8, and told them that when I grow up, I want to work in a secluded area of a mannequin factory, with no fluorescent lights. Now when I say factory, I don't mean those mass production marshmallow factories (though that would be very fun), because I can't operate machinery for the next 72 hours, and also most mannequins aren't made that way. But before I get to that, I have to deal with the mini tarantula that I saw on the bathroom lamp shade a few minutes ago. It looks just like a tarantula, but 1/5 the size. What's next, scorpions? Well, the Discovery Channel said that those only live on the west coast of America... thank god i don't live there! ...
Time for chicken soup! Only at Kid's Foot Locker.
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(JUNE... or August... I don't have a calendar) I haven't been outside for a few weeks, partly because it's sunny outside of my lair, and all these weeks of staring at the computer screen with the lights off have left my eyes vulnerable to sunlight. Who needs vitamin d, anyway? Oh, and that pesky skin cancer which threatens you each time you step out of the shade... is that really necessary? But I'm sure our little solar friend isn't the only thing keeping me inside, it must have something to do with my extreme resistance to going to a place where humans breathe the same air and exchange those money lice that I've read so much about in the trusty Weekly World News. I can't go with you to drop off film, or to buy some shoes which i so sorely need, because there are people there! The beach attracts even worse ones... is that the phone ringing? I can't hear you, Mr. Phone, the fans are on too loud. Oh well, even if you are a ringin' I don't want to talk to whatever is breathing on the other side... unless it's a robot. You know, one of them telemarketing robots. WHat? Those are humans? Well at least those telemarketers don't keep you on the phone for half an hour, asking for you to come over to their house and go swimming or something and then maybe watch kids in the hall... and then look at the way they rearranged their room and then play you don't know jack with them. Good ol' telemarketing robot humans.
I need to:
buy new shoes
do some math problems
relearn Japanese
clear my throat
What is this, anyway? Well, I don't know. It will develop into something soon... for now I'm just going to call it squid, because I remember they made us eat one at MSI in third grade. Well you have to be a carnivore when you study marine biology.
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