defeat the cheat

As I was talking to someone about the insecurity that accompanies the thought of your present lover's past lovers, I came up with a remedy (for the insecurity). Well, before I made my grand discovery I considered just killing their exes... I wished that one of them would sink to the bottom of the ocean in a wrecked plane. I fantasized that another would become blind... It was then I contemplated the perfect solution... If only I could paralyze them. A paralyzed person is incapable of having sex. Because the worries of sex account for most jealousy/insecurity, this would be perfect. Now I must invent a para-pill to slip into their drink!

naked?

Yesterday, a hardcore wannabe goth girl with a lisp said, "I feel naked without my chains."
I replied, "I feel naked without my underwear."

day 3: music fest

The Jazz Band also received all superiors. (I'm jumping for joy.) Vocal Jazz, however, received one superior and two comments. -Tyler (I guess he's the lead bass), got caught with marijuana (a.k.a. pot, hash, weed, doobie, dope, grass, etc) on the ferry. He got sent home immediately. Dumbass.
Uneventful day. Was bored as hard dog poop in the corner of the lawn on an overcast day.
The dance was silly. TJ offered to take moi to a party. I swallowed the vomit creeping up my throat and approaching my mouth to say, "No thanks."

day 2: music fest

Stood in line for coffee this morning for about 30 minutes. I truly believe Americans are becoming obsessed with coffee and we're all going to go to Hell because of it. -Well, if I were a silly Mormon I'd think that.
We were required to attend all the damned solos/ensembles and clinics. It was really no fun. Last year music fest was here and it rocked because the only thing that was required was performing! Even better was Ketchikan music fest my frosh year. Everything was so new and there were so many boys to eye. The choir ended up receiving all superiors tonight. Woop, woop.
After the evening concerts we met up with TJ and requested a food stop. The Waffle House was still open, but none of us except Darcie wanted that. There was a Russian place with "hot food" open, but only I wanted that. Subway was dirty. Everyone except Darcie wanted Pizza. The Broiler was closed. Finally, we decided on McDonald's. Yum. On the way home TJ chatted it up with me about music. He was mostly just praising Sitka, blah, blah, blah. Then he interrupted the droning conversation with, "Badga-Badga-Badger," or some other weird phrase of the sort. I gave him a confused stare and he replied, "Haven't you seen 'Badgers?'" I shook my head no and he assured me that we'd watch it when we got back. I just looked away, considering what a weird guy he was.
While we were changing into sleep clothes back at his house, he came in and looked right at me, "So, do you wanna watch that movie?"
I gave him a confused look, and replied, "Oh... sure... we could just watch it in here, eh?"
"Actually, we were going to watch it in my room," he answered.
For some reason he left the room and I immediately crawled in bed, avoiding any possible Badger movie viewing to be done in his BEDROOM.

day 1: music fest

Awoke at 4 am so I could hop on the airplane en route to Juneau for Music Festival. I had the privelige of being seated next to a couple of my best friends. (FYI: I'm being sarcastic.) I'd post their names, but I fear that they may read this (many people visit my incredible work of web-savyness) and they'd be disheartened. If you really care to know who these individuals are, ask me privately.
Anyways, the plane ride was joyous.
Juneau is rain, rain, rainy. I am housed with Bryanna, Darcie and Katherine. Quite the quad... We're being housed with "TJ." His family is dangerously obsessed with Volkswagons.
The Sitka Symphonic Band received all "superiors." Mr. Howey entered the room as we were being adjudicated and forced many of us to cry with some parting words.
Back to TJ. Their house isn't necessarly filthy, but it definetly isn't immaculate. They have weird posters on the walls that are hung with duct tape and/or scotch tape. We're sleeping amidst a drumset and a fuseball table.
The mom is not friendly and the father is MIA.

bonfire

I hosted an uber-awesome bonfire at my house lastnight. The parents were out of town. Don't worry. They'd be proud. This was a drug-free outting. It was also Robyn's birthday. Yeah, it was a super time between roastin' dogs and playin' Charades. Good times with all girls...

"nice girl"

“She’s a nice girl,” they say. What is that supposed to mean? Its one of the most common, vague compliments I receive. The statement itself cannot be decoded into any real meaning. It is the tone used to present it that worries me most. “Oh, yes, she’s a *pause* nice girl.” Its as though they just can’t find the words to describe me. Or maybe the words that arise in their minds are far too offensive, so they’re stuck saying a neutral, safe phrase. Unfortunately, their true emotions sneak out into their tone.
Every once in a while someone will be a little risky and say, “Well… She’s interesting.” Am I honestly that unexplainably odd? Most of the time it makes me laugh, other times the curiously toned, simple comment will wrinkle my mind. I want to ask the person exactly what they meant, but too often I hear these things indirectly; something my friend’s mom said about me. I end up prodding for answers and my friend usually gets annoyed and says, “Gosh! I don’t know. Ask her! Its not THAT big of a deal. She just said that you’re nice! Is that SO bad?”
They fail to see the phony compliment, so I’m forced to fend off my need for explanation and remain the “nice girl.”

essential choices

Finally, the appropriate moment arrived, an actual space in Dr. Morgan's breathless lecture. I quietly slid my chair out, stood up and walked away from my Psychology 101 class and its nine other hostages. Upon entering the ladies room, I looked at the 1st stall and thought, "Nah, that's one's used the most because it possesses the easiest access. And probably the most used by those in a hurry which means 'spills'." I looked to the next few and noted, "They're in the middle, across from the sinks, so if someone is at the sink, fixing their hair or washing their hands, they'll be able to look in the mirror and peak at me through the cracks while I'm in a rather vulnerable and unattractive position, so no." My eyes were then drawn to the gigantic stall door at the end of the toilet corridor. I considered the handi-cap accessible toilet built with special metal railings and all and decided, "Well, its probably the least used stall, but what if some poor little ol' lady with an incontinent bladder in a wheel chair comes in. Well, that'd be sad, so no." Eventually, I opted for the second to last toilet (adjacent to the handi-cap stall). The door grinded against the poorly fastened bolts as I closed it and attempted to lock it. The latch would not fasten. I realized, "I cannot risk being walked in on." So I exited the un-lockable stall and entered the next one over. The last occupant to use the toilet had failed to flush, "Yuck, no way," I thought to myself. So, finally I went to the next one, which happened to be right smack-dab in the middle, pretty much where I started. Mirror view through the cracks and all...

drug testing at its best

Blaaaah... Grrr... Uggghhh... Hisssss... Arg. Back, back, back to school. I barely made it through the long, long mundane day. 1st period, during band, I commented to Sam that I've never been drug-tested. Big whoop. We discussed the lack of 'randomness,' blah blah blah. Well, come 2nd period, during French, Mrs. Will notified me that I needed to go to the office. "Damn it... I hate housing," I thought. I assumed they were going to try to convince me to house some stupid Juneau softball players or something... About halfway down our slippery stairs, it dawned on me that Mondays are drug-testing days. A woman with a clipboard standing in the office confirmed this; she was the school nurse. "Are you Elizabeth Mattingly!?" "Uh... yeah, I suppose," I replied.
"Are you currently involved in a sport, Elizabeth?"
"Yeah," I said on behalf of the softball team's best fricken hitter (moi).
"Oh goody, come right this way for your random drug test!"
I followed the woman into the bathroom where she explained everything you could ever, ever want to know about the procedure of random drug testing at Sitka High School. Oh, and not just the PRESENT procedure, but also the history of drug testing at SHS, past experiences, and much other crap that now takes up valuable space somewhere in my mind. The most exciting part of the lecture (for her) was explaining the actual urine specimen tester-thingy. She excited over the wonderful lavendar color of the double lines that are supposed to show up to confirm a negative reading (no drugs in your pee).
Anyway, she finally left the room, I did my duty and she returned to test it. The double LAVENDAR lines appeared and she jumped up for joy, splashing the urine all over herself and the counter. My required part was done; I had passed the test. I returned to french class.

savouring spring break

'tis the last real night of spring break. Spent the better part of the day with Miss Torgeson. We unscrewed a few signs from the Stargavin camp ground. THIEVES! We cruised all of Sitka multiple times. Damn, I love those 14.79 miles of road.
We had a grand plan of doing a little bargain hunting at the White E, but the moment we stepped in, a horrific smell pushed us right back out. For those of you who haven't experienced the White E odor, its kinda nasty, but within a few minutes, one's nasal region adapts. Oh, but not this time! The musty smell was only the base for a strong odor of fishermen B.O. Shucky-darn, no cheap finds today.

the french

Another night with les francais. The Dunlap Fam' had a little gathering. Its a big bummer because they're all so young. They're all 14-15. Yeah, I know that's only two years, but it really does make a difference. There's this one gal (Bryanna's) who is a flaming slut. Just about every guy there was all over her. Except for this one total Ameri-Frenchy boy. He was the only one with some meat on his bones. Not fat meat, total muscle, swimmer build. Anyways, us Americans were the only ones scarfing the hoards of food. No wonder we're all so ridiculously un-skinny.
Its most definetly a unique experience sitting around with a bunch of foreigners babbling their heads off. My three years of french don't get me too far. I can pick out a word here and there, but that's about it.

blog. hence web log

Yeah, so I decided to start this silly thing. Thanks to Brenna. Thanks Brenna.

The thing is, with the traffic that I get, it will not be terribly personal. Darn, eh? Not really, you wouldn't wanna read about my deep, dark secrets anyway.

Yesterday I went up Harbor Mt. with Keith and Hank. Tawny, Anthony, and others were up there also. It was fun until the dumbass, Keith, broke the "Blaster." The Blaster is a four-wheeler that apparently Mica found in a river on Kruzoff and fixed up. Needless to say, its a piece of shit. Anyway, we had to pull my winch out (yeah, my quad has cool things like that because I rock and have the best equip.) and attach it to the crap-quad. I drug the Blaster and Keith's sorry-ass all the way down Harbor.

Later in the evening (yesterday) I grabbed Miss Hannah Hutton and we attended the French "Social Evening." There are a dozen or so Frenchys in town. (Bryanna has the pleasure of housing one.) Anyway, the social thing was a ball of boredom. We left within an hour.

Good luck @ state all you DDF nerds.