...sounds like a euphemism for the Fallopian tube, but it's a neighborhood that was built over a toxic waste dump (thank you APES). My econ teacher has relatives who lived there.
On a completely relevant note, an amusing song called "French Fries" that is awfully similar to OneRepublic's "Apologize" can be found here.
And I watched Blood Knot at the American Conservatory Theater today. It was surprisingly good, considering the past few mediocre productions. It might have been the script, it might have been a different director, it might have been the fact that there are only two actors, it might have been the subject matter, but I really liked it. In fact, I think I'm going to say that I liked it more than Sweeney Todd, even if I am secretly in love with Beakeley. Oops. I mean not secretly in love with Benjamin Eakeley. I mean the Beadle. Who totally did not make a coffin look sexy. At all. And bore no resemblance at all to how Draco Malfoy should be portrayed in the Harry Potter movies.
I think I'm procrastinating again.
So here are two more YouTube videos, both from O Brother, Where Art Thou? The lullaby/song/thing the sirens sing and the one the scary congregation sings. Not that either of these are scary or alarming. And one more. "Dear Old Shiz" from Wicked. I guess I have a thing for choirs.
Disclaimer: I am totally not religious, and none of these are the originals.
On a completely relevant note, an amusing song called "French Fries" that is awfully similar to OneRepublic's "Apologize" can be found here.
And I watched Blood Knot at the American Conservatory Theater today. It was surprisingly good, considering the past few mediocre productions. It might have been the script, it might have been a different director, it might have been the fact that there are only two actors, it might have been the subject matter, but I really liked it. In fact, I think I'm going to say that I liked it more than Sweeney Todd, even if I am secretly in love with Beakeley. Oops. I mean not secretly in love with Benjamin Eakeley. I mean the Beadle. Who totally did not make a coffin look sexy. At all. And bore no resemblance at all to how Draco Malfoy should be portrayed in the Harry Potter movies.
I think I'm procrastinating again.
So here are two more YouTube videos, both from O Brother, Where Art Thou? The lullaby/song/thing the sirens sing and the one the scary congregation sings. Not that either of these are scary or alarming. And one more. "Dear Old Shiz" from Wicked. I guess I have a thing for choirs.
Disclaimer: I am totally not religious, and none of these are the originals.

HAHA! Baser.
Nor is this:
I think this one is still excusable, because my eraser was in my bag or somewhere else that would require me to move:
But then you get this:
(What the hell is that cat thing?) And this:
And this, which expresses a sentiment in the upper right-hand corner that I often have while doing math:
And then I start to wonder how I messed up that many times:
And realize I can't draw in 3-D:
And I can't even use the tip of my pencil to cross out, because shading is much more efficient:
And this is all messed up setups for the same problem:
And here is the massacre. Those of weak constitutions are advised to avert their eyes:
And to quote Kurtz, "The horror! The horror!"
The debate that I won about how eggs are not oval-shaped, so describing a graph as "like an egg with the top cut off" does not adequately describe the graph of "a 3-D oval thing with the top cut off":
And how math tests make me feel:
Imaginary reader, you might ask why I don't just use an eraser. Well, scratching out is faster. And I am lazy. And we don't actually have to turn in our math homework. But for a word problem set that we did have to turn in, this was the result:
If you can imagine my carpet as a desert stretching on for miles and miles, with no horizon but the next sand dune in sight, you would have a to-scale representation of my eraser-dust-covered floor. And that is why I don't use my eraser.
Top view:
And the amazing diorama:
And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Why I am the center of the universe. Or at least the solar system.
And I should sleep.
Socks: gift from J. Crew (seriously, they are the strangest things ever. The pattern ends at the ankle.) Patterned thermal: Kohl's. Sweater: Mother's, from the must-be-thrown-out-too-ugly bag. Tank: somewhere in the Haight Ashbury. Skirt: Forever21. Way too short. Leggings: United Colors of Benetton.
$10, baby. BP Nordstrom.
In other news, I was walking around the house for exercise (okay, not really, but haven't you always thought how sad it was that women in, like, Jane Austen books (which I haven't read, by the way, because the plotlines kill me in the first twenty pages, although I must admit the prose is good) have to walk around the house for exercise?) and I saw this fabric sitting in stacks on top of our massive piggy bank. I think my grandma brought it out from the garage/her neverending stash of fabric:
And as soon as I saw it, I knew that 1) it was so tacky nobody in this house would ever dream of using it, which meant I could, and 2) it reminded me desperately of Prada's 2008 Resort Collection:


Except uglier. Which is even better. Speaking of daffodils, because, um... the print is floral, so daffodils are not an unrelated subject, here are the daffodils I received on Valentine's Day, in various states of wilting, because I think they're funny:

How sad. I love daffodils. And sunflowers. And daisies. I suppose I have an affinity for yellow flowers. Or flowers with yellow. My friend got me daffodils because I like daffodils, but also because daffodils are also called narcissi. Narcissuses. Nar... The daffodil is also called a narcissus, and we all know how Narcissus fell in love with his reflection.
Denim jacket: delia's. White ruffled shirt with ruffles stuffed into the front: mother's. Short shorts: wetseal (I'm surprised they haven't disintegrated). Leggings: United Colors of Benetton (I bought these before the leggings shit hit the painfully mainstream fan. Sad, especially because I love leggings and hosiery). Socks: Target, maybe.
Beanie: mother's from the Gap, because my brother used to get a discount when he worked there. Black v-neck short-sleeve sweater: mother's. Brown printed longsleeve thermal: Kohl's. Floral slip: vintage, estate sale. Tights: Hue. Socks: gift.
Scarf: mother's. Pink longsleeve: United Colors of Benetton. Cardigan: mother's, salvaged from the bag of stuff to be thrown away because they were deemed to be too hideous. Green circle kirt: crafted from way-overpriced stretchy Britex fabric. Tights: Some generic drugstore brand.
Blue cardigan: grandmother's. Collared shirt: grandmother's. Belt: came with some trashy looking shirt my mom bought so she could have the belt. Skirt: Nordstrom Rack, and it does this really awkward bunching up thing when I walk. Tights: Generic drugstore brand. Socks: gift.
Also, while psycho-window-shopping at delia's, I came across this extremely discriminatory t-shirt, which is out of whack:


