Okay, karaoke just got good again. Some guy was just singing “I Believe I Can Fly”, except, you know, it sounded like he was saying “I Believe I can FRY”. (Yes, Chinese has a R and L thing, too, but it’s not quite as noticible as Japanese. Or, rather, some people are horrible with them, and some aren’t. My grandfather, for example, pronounces “watermelon” in a slurry of W and L sounds. He forgets the hard T sound a lot.)

Funny thing happened to me at Market Central today! I went to get pie. Because pie is good. I go to cut the pie.

The cake/pie stand falls on me.

SOMEHOW, I managed not to get any cake on my clothing! Instead, my hands were covered with frosting. Thankfully, one of the cafeteria workers gave me a rag to wipe the frosting off.

So, yeah. A cake rack attacked me today.

Also, I am apparently a cannibal.

SO BASICALLY I’M KIND OF AN IDIOT.

See LaLa. See LaLa leave her phone behind and not notice! See PJAC’s vice president return LaLa’s phone two days after she left it behind. Good going, LaLa.

The saddest part is that I wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn’t for someone leaving a comment on my LJ. S-sigh.

And I watched episodes seven and eight of Ghost Hound! Huzzah! I’m too sleep to babble about it, so I’ll do it later. While re-watching the episodes because I already forgot most of it. Fail, self. I should just take notes in PJAC.

I’m back in Louisiana! First thing first: It’s warm here. My mother was complaining about the temperature (47 degrees), and all I could think was “That’s cold? Pfffft.”

Clearly Pittsburgh has changed me.

It’s interesting. I once was used to the complete absence of sidewalks, the startling silence during the day, and the mild winters. Now I come here and I’m startled by how seemingly empty this place is, and at how warm and pleasant the weather is.

Then again, I’m in Westlake, not Lake Charles, so that could explain a few things.

I miss the snow. And the people. And the sidewalks.

Anyway, I’ve got somewhat limited internet access. I have no idea what to do with it. Go, me, right?

Have any of you ever gotten the impulse to e-mail your old teachers? And by old, I mean middle school or even elementary school teachers?

I found a few of my old teacher’s e-mails, but I’m somewhat wary about e-mailing them. I don’t want to be a bother, and it would be embarassing if they forgot who I was.

Also, why the hell am I getting “preteen lolita sex” spam?!

Tell me, when you go comatose for a few hours, do you hallucinate violently and then suffer amnesia about the entire experience?

I have recently stumbled upon a game in which you add “in bed” to the end of the fortune you get from a fortune cookie. (This might actually be an old game, but it is new to me.)

Having no fortune cookies readily available, I used an online one. Here is what it says, with the “in bed” attached:

Your many hidden talents will become obvious to those around you in bed.

…How nice! Refreshing it again gave me this:

You a person of culture in bed.

Indeed.

Note to self: Don’t take painkillers unless you absolutely have to. You act like a moron when you’re on them.

Thankfully, I only took two before the pain managed to become tolerable. Yay for a semi-high pain tolerance, I suppose. (Although, not high enough if I have to bite myself in order to keep from whimpering from the toe shots. Ugh. That is the most unpleasant feeling I’ve had the misfortune to feel.)

I still can’t wear closed toe shoes and socks, though. At least, not on my right foot. My left foot is fine, the bastard. It can’t even hurt a little bit to make me feel balanced.

On a slightly…less interesting note, I am getting spam on my blog! While this would annoy some people, I feel oddly accomplished as this is a sign that I’m actually showing up on search engines. I hesitate to think what keywords my blog shows up on, but at least it’s showing up, right?

Funny thing about Mardi Gras. I live on Lake Street, right by the mall. Around seven in the evening, loud music began to play and people began screaming. My first thought? “Oh, my God. Why are there drunk people screaming outside my window? Is there a mob? Are they throwing chairs and kidnapping babies yet?”

Being the genius that I am, I completely forgot it was Mardi Gras, despite the fact that Morgan had called me earlier and reminded me of it. Good job, memory. You fail yet again.

And I’m all out of white grape blueberry kiwi juice. Darn. At least I have new information pertaining to Fire Emblem: Goddess of the Dawn to hang on to. Mmm, release day spoilers. Only about half a year until it’s released in English!

I had minor surgery on my toe today. Getting an injection is far worse than getting blood drawn because until the anesthesia actually kicked in, my toe was like, swollen beyond belief. I mean, it was HUGE. Like, the size of an eraser but BIGGER. Not one of those cute little erasers shaped like ice cream cones or flowers, though, or the ones you stick on top of your pencil because the eraser that comes with the pencil that sucks more than a vacuum. VRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUM WHOOOOOOOSH.

Also, I am making so many typos. Thank God for FireFox’s built in spell checker or else this entry would make no sense. At all. Like how nuclear physics probably wouldn’t make sense to a toddler, but a toddler wouldn’t really try to sit there and figure it out, you know? They’re probably just gnawing on something while thinking about… I don’t know. Milk and puppies. Not together like eating milk and puppies, though, but milk and puppies. Just not together. As in the eating together.

Anyway, I got some shots and stuff and my toe was swollen but the pain kinda went away after a few minutes and my toe was all numb and stuff and I’m giggling but I don’t know why, and this is a really long run on sentence, isn’t it?

But, yes, my toe doesn’t hurt anymore! …Well, it hurts, but not because there’s something wrong but because it’s tender. And sore. And throbbing. Like a heart but not really because a toe isn’t a heart although when it was full of anesthesia it was really big, but probably not as big as my heart. Or a heart. A human heart. It might of been the size of a worm’s heart. A really, really big worm. I think a bird would have made a better example. Oh! A bird pooped on my mom’s vehicle. I ate sushi before my surgery. It was yummy and had crabs in it. The crustacean kind, I mean.

After my surgery, I was all “8D” because I couldn’t feel anything in my toe and stuff. I can’t walk right, though, and I have to use my arm to help lift my foot. Right after the surgery it was because I couldn’t really feel it and controlling it was funny because it was wobbly like a tall tower of cheese that isn’t built in the shape of a pyramid or anything. The cheese was all stacked up, one on top of the other, with no proper base nor support. Why am I talking about cheese?

I need to lift my leg now because my toe is throbbing, although not much right now because I took a painkiller, and I guess I should have said something about how medicine tends to work too well on me or not at all to the doctor. My back doesn’t hurt either. Yay.

But it’s funny to see me walk because my arm goes up and down with my leg, and it somewhat reminds me of a locomotive going down the tracks. Chugga chugga, chugga chugga, choo choo! Chugga chugga, chugga boing zlink bzzt clank bonk AHHHHH.

I guess the train broke. Aww.

My toe is red because the tape thing they used to help keep the bandages on my toe is red. It’s pretty, but I think it’s too late for Valentine’s Day. Sadface.

Shakespearean Insulter

Yeah, you read that right. Insults from THE MAN himself. Well, one of the men. I must find a way to use them tomorrow, provided I can actually remember any of them. (”I leak on your chimney” is quite possibly the most brilliant thing I’ve read all evening. “Your virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese” is awesome as well! And “[Thou] leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agatering, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch!” is just love.)

(”Your face is as a book, where men may read strange matters.” AUGH CANNOT CHOOSE WHICH ONE IS THE BEST ASDFGHJK;)

I might be editing this entry. I drank white grape blueberry kiwi juice and I’m hyper. Yes, I can get high/hyper/drunk off white grape blueberry kiwi juice. And it was only half a cup. That’s another reason I stay away from drugs and alcohol. If white grape blueberry kiwi juice can get me drunk, I don’t want to know what alcohol can do to me. I value my life, kthnx.