Thanks, Dad.

'she might be a tranny.'
'a what?'
'a tranny'
'i dont know what that means.'
'a transvestite.'
'oh. well,im not up to date with all this lingo'

Father Mckenzie

Socks are tricky creations. They tend to sneak off to places they don't belong. They are the spaghetti of the clothing world, slurped and munched by washers and driers. The Houdini's of all garments. So holey and mismatched.
The one thing that gets me about socks is not their ability to disappear, not the fact that holes are worn into them like Swiss cheese, and not how they tend to cause more static electricity than a cat with a balloon, but how exactly they're to be washed.
My mother claims that they are to be turned inside in and washed that way because then the outside of them gets washed. I beg to differ. I think that the inside of the sock should go on the outside, because the inside is what needs to be washed. The inside is what gets dirty because that is what is on people's sweaty feet. There is no need for the outside of the sock to be as washed as the inside. Unless the inside of your shoes are incredibly dirty, there really is no need.
The dirtiness of the outside of your sock is directly effected by the dirtiness of the inside of your shoe. The dirtiness of the inside of your sock is determined by several different things.

Dirtiness of inside of sock = cleanliness of foot + sweatiness of foot x time worn.

There are many different things to factor into the inner sock dirtiness, therefor making it more dangerous and detrimental than outer-sock dirtiness.
So, henceforth, I demand that socks be washed inside out.
Washing machine HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

gelée de chaux d'ananas

So I had another practical yesterday. Thankfully I actually passed this one. (Made 2 keylime tarts. They were okay) One more today. Its written. Its going to be lame. Then I have to make ham and cheese muffins.

Gross.

There is some lime jello.

Unfortunately there are 16 chunks of pineapple.

But I found a solution to that problem.

Moving along.

I will be going home this weekend. Not too sure what I'm doing. Making a cake for my moms birthday and perhaps also taking back a lot of things from here that I don't need in the dorm any more. I should do that, I think.

There are exactly 3 weeks left until my big practical. Hopefully it will go well. 6 weeks until I go on extern. I need to turn in my application, I just don't have enough references yet. I'm working on that.

I think I have a project to work on when I go home. The idea just crossed my mind.

But I don't think the trees are nice enough to do so yet. perhaps the next time I go home. Off to think.

Apologies for the lack of substance.

Maybe Someday...

Today sucked. I'm not even going to lie. It really really did. It was alright until I got to class. At that point, it all just started falling downhill.

I had to make biscotti for my practical. I fucking hate biscotti. No one likes biscotti. Fuck biscotti. With my awesome phonetic skills, I successfully managed to misread and totally destroy the recipe by attempting to make chocolate chip biscotti instead of chocolate. Sooo I had to figure out how to somehow change chocolate chip into chocolate. Little did I realize that one require baking soda while the other required baking powder. And on top of all of this, the oven I used broke without my knowledge. Needless to say I had some really shitty biscotti. Needless to say, I failed my exam. Awesome. Two more to go, though.

After class I went to the gym again.
It was later this time, it was pretty full. As soon as I walked in the room, I instantly felt as if I had transformed from human to meat. I walked in, and I just wasn't even a person anymore. I ignored this and just put in my headphones and listened to my music while I ran and lifted weights. But I could still see the people just staring at me and watching me lift weights and just look at me in ways I really prefer to not be looked at in. I really made me feel like shit. I was actually a bit self conscious as I was lifting; not because I can't lift much, but just because I could tell how a lot of the guys were staring. It really made me feel shitty. I don't even take it as a compliment anymore.
And then of course, I had Broski and Beaver stop by to hang out a bit. A few lines were crossed with some things that were said. Starting with something that had happened one night when I had been drinking and did some ridiculous and regrettable things that I honestly did not know happened. And of course I had a few of those empty blank spaces in my mind were filled in about what really did happen that time. Nothing that I am happy about nor proud of, nor really wanted to remember. Especially aloud in a room full of other people that honestly did not need to know about all of that. Continuing on, I also learned that I was the fulfiller of a couple 'guy fantasies', which truth be told made me feel absolutely sick and disgusted with myself. Strangely, at this point i can understand why I look like a half-rack of spare ribs to someone.
I'm going to bed.
fuck it.




Do you remember how it was when you bled? When you loved and burned in those flames that you've kept because Vesta's long been sleeping . And now you've come to accept that your anatomy defines more than a few of the gaping holes in our social fabric; more than a few one night stands, more than a few prison bars melted into wedding bands.
We've made you all the peasants and we've made ourselves the kings, our queens are still subordinate as an angel without wings .We make it easy to belong which means it's easy to be wrong "Put some plastic in your tits, and you'd look better as a blond." I remember when you were hopeful and you never thought your life would be lived inside a coffin with a moral sacrifice and a million social obligations, labels and expectations. You were young and modern seventeen in vogue and vague pursuit of a cosmopolitan dream. When you bled on the bed as you fed those expectations as a whore and not a human, you embraced with hesitation the very parameters of all you can be; not a mother, not an aunt, not a sister who's not subdued, because dignity's not physical and your flesh means more than you. I know we'll wake up one day with a gun to the back of our brains. You'll be asking for your rib and I'll smile and call you brave. Maybe someday when this bloody skull has dried I'll know our city is in ruins when our greatest source of pride is a monument of dicks and ribs and gender crowns we wore where underneath, a plaque will read, "No woman is a whore."

Band: Protest The Hero
Song: Turn Soonest To The Sea
Album: Kezia

turn soonest to the sea - Protest the Hero

*edit
And I just found out that Protest The Hero is playing with The Number 12 Looks Like You in the city on May 9th. Hooooolllyyyyy shit. Forget going to see GWAR. I am saving all my money and trecking my ass down there. Best. Line-up. Ever. (Misery Signals, Scales The Summit, Falls From Grace will also be there.) Ohgodohgodohgod.

I'm Fucking Amy Winehouse

Cookie practical today.
Who would have thought that there would be a school where your final exam was to make cookies.
I guess I really can't complain too much.
But then again, who would have thought that there would be a culinary school with students that are starving all the time.

I am very proud of myself for going to the gym again. Perhaps I will go again after class today. Soon I shall be able to lift small cars.
Ir at least bend coat-hangers without hurting myself.
I always feel really.... special when I go to the gym.
I'm so damn lanky that I just look ridiculous. And there are people that actually know how to use the equipment, unlike me. They're gracefully doing bent arm flies as I'm tripping and stumbling and getting tangled in the tension lines of the lifting machines and vaguely resembling on gimpy ostrich as I run on a treadmill. Oh yes.
But I digress.
At least I get somewhat into shape. (stringy is a shape, right?)

And of course I can't just go to the gym to work out, I have to do some kind of strange experiment. This one was me figuring what kind of music was the b est (and worst) to run to.
I generally stick to some form of metal or something electronic. I did not find a best kind of music, but the best song, by far, was My Sharona, covered by The Number 12 Looks Like You.
I then discovered that any kind of mathcore is impossible because the tempo changes so much that you start tripping. Protest The Hero"s Turn Soonest To The Sea work well for lifting weights(as well as amping like mad crazy), as does Marilyn Manson's This Is The New Shit.
It was a good time, I must say, and I think Ill have to go work out again soonly.
But, I do have an exam to need to be getting to, so I am going to sign out for now.
Good day.

Oh Wow, Fish.

There are so many strange fish that live in the ocean. I really do not understand them. For some reason my roommate and Paul were looking up pictures of all of these gigantic fish that people have found, and to be honest, its absolutely terrifying. Thousand pound giant squids, 700 pound mako sharks, white orca whales, and jellyfish that make horses look tiny. I just can't believe it. How can something so big live for so long without anyone knowing its there? All kinds of giant creatures are just chillin in the water, mindin their own business, and then out of nowhere someone finds them and its a huge, miraculous discovery. Its just really strange that something like that can just stay in hiding for years. It also confuses me that we keep finding new animals. You would think after the thousands of years that we've been here, we would have found everything by now. I guess not. it really just bugs me out that we're STILL finding new things. When will we find everything?


Also, one of the stories on AOL says "Man Speared In Head is Done Fishing."
No shit.
He's probably done walking and breathing too.

C is for...

like bamboo torture
chocolate chips under the nails
a sweet Vietnam

Every day I dread going to this class. Cookies. Cookies, cookies, cookies. Cookies.
Cookies.
I can not deal with them anymore. I am halfway through the block being over, which is a good thing, but never the less.
I cannot believe that I am spending all of this time and money to not get any better at baking...cookies.
Honestly, I like the ones I make at home better. I feel like I am learning absolutely nothing. It seems to be a waste of time. And I definitely almost dropped a knife through my leg yesterday. Somehow it flipped over and landed handle-down. Then I almost stabbed a guy that went running by me without warning. Bad call.
Perhaps the next class with be better.
My goal is to go to the store and get gum paste and practice more so I can get better at making flowers and things so I will do better if I get my extern. Hopefully that will all work out.
But enough about school. That subject grows wearisome after a while.


If I were a superhero, I would be Fever Cat.


"Who is Fever Cat?" You ask?
Fever Cat is the ultimate superhero!
Kind of.
Not really.
Here is a picture.
Oh the awesome that she is. Pouncing unsuccessfully from treebrance to treebranch, infecting small children with strep throat and the flu, drinking ungodly amounts of orange juice, just to throw it up on your favorite shoes in a few hours. My mom says that Stan Lee might buy it. Ill have to pitch it to him.


I am currently listening to the Misfits yet again. I have a playlist of songs that Im working on learning how to play on guitar, Saturday Night was one of them. I learned it though and now play it acoustic sometimes. Someday I might actually work up the guts to sing in front of people. That is highly, highly unlikely. I believe I will have to be mildly inebriated to do that.
Someday.


I really feel like Im just writing the same things over and over again on here. I really with I could think of something better to write about. I need to go back and reread the things that I used to write about so I can get a better feel of what is more interesting, because honestly, no one wants to hear about what I'm doing with my life or how my day went. I have a feeling people would rather read about zombie attacks or mall goths. I don't know when the next post about reality TV shows will be, considering I don't own a television that plays TV shows. it only plays video games and movies. But really, it just seems to be collecting dust, because I rarely use it. I really don't like televisions, they rot the mind. Though it would be nice to be more informed. Apparently there was a salmonella outbreak in pistachios. I wish I had known this before I ate them. So, if there are no posts for a while....

blame the pistachios.


Until then!