A Photo Editing Contest Gone Horribly, Hilariously Wrong

It started out innocently enough.
Well, kind of.

Teenage Venom and I were chatting online when I realized - my icon. It was horribly outdated. It featured me with a different haircolor, haircut, and furniture arrangement in the background. I didn't even own that dresser anymore. I decided to change it - to this. A picture of my eye, unedited.

Venom promptly requested I send her a copy so she could "play with it". After some very strange mental images of her having a tea party with a printed-out version of my eyeball, I came to the conclusion that she meant she wanted to add effects and stuff to make it look cool - like photoshopping, or as we called it, Picniking, after out photo-editing website of choice.

That was when I had a brilliant idea - A contest, between us, of who could edit it cooler. We had three minutes and text was not allowed.

Within a few minutes, we had gone through editing several photos and broken every rule. These were the highlights of the contest.

The Original-

Kayla's Version-

My Version-

The Original-

Kayla's Version-

My Version-

The Original-



Kayla's Version-

My Version-



My Love!

I FUCKING MISSED YOU!
No, not you. Well, kinda you, though I've never met you before, but I was actually talking to my blog, which is illogical anyway, but if me missing you would make you follow and comment and shower me with bacon and rainbows, then yes I was talking to you. But I was also talking to my blog. And the internet, even though it hates me.
My dears, I was grounded. Though small-town groundation is just not the same as groundation in places that actually have places people would want to go to. Oh no. I was grounded FROM THE INTERNET.
Seriously, is that even legal? It seems like a crime against humanity. Or like, cruel and unusual punishment.
But, I do get where my mom was coming from. A sixty-four in French is frowned upon in this establishment for obvious reasons.
But anyway, after the conjugation of so, so many verbs, I'm back! And, well, not much has happened. A lot of reading, starting a few new Sci-fi serieses (Leviathan, Chaos Walking), finishing up some others (One book to go in the Percy Jackson category),  anticipating the release of the next, the FINAL Maximum Ride book. Which won't be until next August, actually, but I can still anticipate it now. Also, there was some more crappy nonsense poems and a major change in fangirlism (Expect some more posts about that soon).
Anyway, I leave you now with this inspiring quote I typed up when I was really really bored, shortly before The Grounding.

RANT: The Internet Hates Me. I Have Proof.

EXHIBIT A!

Everyone but me already knows how to make a Paffendorf dance meme. For those of you who don't know, a paffendorf is... hard to explain. Here, just look at this video of a Maximum Ride paffendorf dance (That I don't own or know how to make!)

Is this some sort of conspiracy? A conspiracy to keep me from ever learning how to Paffendorf? DOES EVERYONE ALREADY KNOW BUT ME?! 'Cause I can't find instructions. CAN'T FIND THEM ANYWHERE!

EXHIBIT B!

In our family, we have two computers -- the laptop (Which works great), and the desktop (Which is a prehistoric peice of poo). And now, the desktop is not ONLY a prehistoric poo, it's now a prehistoric poo that's been invaded by nekkid people. And no, REALLY, I don't want to see your naughty bits. All I wanna do is look up the name of that song that's been stuck in my head for a week and I know the words but I don't the title or who sings it and I REALLY NEED TO FUCKING KNOW SO GET YOUR YOU-KNOW-WHAT OUT OF MY FACE!!!!!1!

And this really has nothing to do with anything, but someone deleted Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World from our DVR recordings and that pisses me off more than it should and STOP EATING MY BROWNIES YOU ANNOYING BASSIST!

Guilt Trippin'

Hi there Sunshine!
Teenage Venom, the crazy friend (Everybody's got one), has been bugging me to post or, and I quote, "I'LL CRY TEARS OF SADNESS AND COLORLESS RAINBOWS!".
Even when I responded to her IM's with an endless stream of super-sad-face emoticons, all she said was "NO BE SAD!", then sent me the following.

And after I told I was busy plotting world domination  checking my email, she sent me THIS.
So here you go, Venom. A post. Happy now?

Happy Early Birthday, JRose!

JRose, author of "I'd Like Cheese on my Entire Family!" (http://www.cheeseblarg.blogspot.com/), is an obsession of mine lately. And a few minutes ago, I read that it was her birthday...
...In a month.
But still, I couldn't wait a month to make her a present. Crappy though it may be, here's your present, JRose! I would send it to you in some way that didn't make it seem like I was just trying to lure you to my URL so that you'd read my humble posts, even though you'd have no idea what I'm talking about because, to the best of my knowledge, you've never read Maximum Ride (although you should), unless you're one of those people who read it and hated it, then I'd be really crushed, but... *Cough* Anyway, this is the only way I could think of to send it to you, plus I kinda do want you to read my humble posts.
Without further ado, here it is! Your early birthday present.

Time Freeze Outside the Decaying Speck

The Speck. My hometown. Blink and you'll miss it. It consists of a post office, a library, a gas station, a junk store, three churches, and a bunch of run-down smallish Victorian-style houses. Back in the olden days, when the railroad still came through, it was a busy place. Lots of artists, I've heard. People still sometimes find drawings and things in their walls once in a while. The river, which is haunted by an Indian chief according to legend, runs through, twisting Southward. The Speck is squished down in a valley, tree-covered hills swooping up on either side. It's beautiful in the Fall. In Summer...
Well, let's just say, it's quiet.
But where I live, a few miles outside the Speck, it's like time is frozen. Right now, nothing is going on. NOTHING! I'd give anything for something to happen, anything just to lighten the load of this never-ending BOREDOM! PLEASE GOD, MAKE IT STOP!
And yeah, I know I'll be missing the stagnant relaxation of August once September rolls around and the drama starts in again, but until then, I'm awaiting the start of school with open arms, if only for the fact that I'll get to see my friends again. They all live in the Speck, so I can't just walk down the street and pop in whenever I want. The only times we see each other is at school and on AIM. I've seen Venom once or twice, but Jaybrams doesn't even have an AIM. We haven't talked in months.
And yes, we have telephones. I just have an unnatural mistrust of them. It's... hard to explain...
So, to all of you awaiting the end of Summer with dread and nostalgia, I say, Pfft! It can't come soon enough!

PWNed by Dead People

Anyone who knows me knows that I am one of the most uncoordinated beings to ever exist. Even hand-eye coordination is out of my range. Sports? Forget about it. I have issues walking. Not to mention, sporty things are just as boring as HECK to me.

So, while my brother, cousin, and grandma went off to do something sporty a few days ago, I was left to wander my Grandma's large-ish, creepy-ish house all by my lonesome with three hyperactive dogs. Me and the brother had been exiled there once again, not that it was much of an exile. Grandma Patti would let us get away with murder. And parental advisory CDs.

I -- well, it should be obvious by now that I believe in ghosts and such. Unhealthy Ghost Adventures obsession and all. If a normal person hears a noise at night, they think "Burgular!". If I hear a noise at night, I think "HOLY SHIIITE GHOSTS! CALL ZAK BAGANS!"

But it wasn't night when I heard a noise, it was morning. So instead of running to the Travel Channel, I just had a minor heart attack, then burst into song. I'm no Amy Lee, but I have an okay voice. Sort of a Christina Perri-Sara Bareilles-only-not-as-good voice. And I have fun singing. So whenever I'm alone, I usually just burst into song at random moments. Much to the chagrin of whatever unsuspecting dogs are within hearing distance.

While the dogs stared at me in alarm and I warbled "BRRRIINNNG MEE TOO LIIIIIIFE!", I walked up the stairs and decided to take a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out of the shower and glanced to my right off-handedly, where a stack of towels rested on a small table. But I noticed something odd, and did a double-take. Squinting closer, I saw that yes, smack in the middle of the top towels was a wet handprint, fingers spread apart. Um... o-kaayy... I definitely did not randomly reach out and pat the towel on the back. Good job, towel. Keep on sitting there. And it wasn't there when I got in the shower, either. Besides that, when I spread open my palm and laid it across the print, the print was bigger than my hand.
Whoop whoop whoop. Paranormal alarm going off here. I got dressed and got the fuck out of there -- Fast.
(Background info: The house is pretty old, and the previous owner, Fred, actually died there a few years back. This I did not know until the next day when I told my Grandma about what happened. She's mentioned some strange things happening to her there as well.)
Anyway, I scampered back down stairs, leapt up on the couch and sat there, unmoving for a few minutes. It's the frog philosophy. If you've ever been near a pond with bullfrogs in it -- We have two -- If you get close, they don't move. You can even poke them sometimes without them hopping off. If... I... Don't... Move... They... Don't... See... Me... I guess it's sort of like little kids hiding under the covers.
I finally decided I would try to read something to calm down, and went into the dining room, where my grandma kept the hidden treasure: FIFTY THOUSAND FUCKING JAMES PATTERSON BOOKS.
Oddly enough, I had read most of them.
But anyway, I found some sort of thick old paperback behind all the J.P. A little something by V.C. Andrews.
When I read, it's hit or miss. Sometimes the ADD wins and I can't read more than half a page before I'm off somewhere else again. Other times, I enter a Book Trance.
A Book Trance is a sort of semi-concious state in which I'm only aware of what's going on in the book. A fucking nuclear war could break out around me and I wouldn't notice. And even if something does manage to get my attention, I feel like I'm one wavelength removed from everyone else for a while afterwards. Muffled, you know? I went into a Book Trance with the V.C. Andrews book. It was done in four hours.

Now, apparentally, V.C. Andrews has reputation for writing some strange, disturbing crap. This, I did not know when I unsuspectingly picked up the paperback. By the end, I had gone WWWWHHHAAATTTT THHHEEE FFRRRIIIIICCKKKK!!!! several times, but what really made me go WWWWHHHAAATTTT THHHEEE FFRRRIIIIICCKKKK!!!! was found when I flipped back to the VERY first page in the book and found something I had not seen before, some sort of note from "The family of V.C. Andrews."
They basically told me that V.C. was dead (Common knowledge, though not to me) and that they had not actually written this book at all -- No, in fact, V.C.'s family, NONE OF WHOM were mentioned by name had penned the entire thing theirselves, along with the help of another author, ALSO UNNAMED.
My first thought? Who in the hell would write a book and put their dead family member's name on it?!
Second thought: Is this even legal?
Third: Who in the hell would write such a sick, disturbing book and put their dead family member's name on it?!?!
It was only on my fourth thought when I realized that I had been PWNed by a dead person -- Twice.
In one day.
Oh, life. Why must you always poke me annoyingly?

Random AIM Lifestream #2

Jessyka McFly
We have kidnapped Jessyka and are holding her hostage until someone gives us 200 Snickers bars. We're hungry. Feed us next time. Sincerely, Everyone Who Lives in the Attic, Dimensions One Through Five.

Jessyka McFly
Earth without art is just "Eh."

Jessyka McFly
Please disregard the previous Lifestream update. We are scrolling PicSauce while waiting for our Snickers bars. It was funny. She is still ourhosgyahge. Sorry, it is hard to type with hooves sometimes.

Reality Sucks: Telling Zak Bagans a Knock Knock Joke

What I Wish Would Happen:

What Would Actually Happen:

Pictures of ME made on lunaii-dollmaker.com

Pictures of ZAK found using GoogleImages

OMGHARRYPOTTERANDTHEDEATHLYHALLOWSPART2AHHSQUEE!!!

I'm pretty sure that by now, everyone on Earth is aware of the Most Important Day In Like Ever, which is coming up July 15th. What makes it so important, you ask? Well, good sir, that would be the day when HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART II is released in theaters.
Are you following me? I said, HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART II!!!!
Do get the gravity of the situation here? It's the LAST Harry Potter movie coming out.
EVER!
 Actually, it's the last Harry Potter anything ever coming out. I've been a die-hard HP fan since I was nine or ten, and so has Venom. It was all we ever talked about for years! Later on, Venom showed me Maximum Ride and I contracted OMRD, I'm sorry to say Harry was forgotten for a little while. But recently I've been rediscovering the series, first in books then in movies. And I'm happy to say, I STILL LOVE IT! Maybe even more than before. When I was younger, I didn't sometimes understand what was going on, even though I was a pretty deep kid. But now I totally get the whole thing.
July 15th is going to be a bittersweet day for me. I mean, when the Half Blood Prince had just come out, I found out there was only going to be one more book, and I cried. And now, there aren't even any more movies to look forward to. WE HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR NOW!
Well, I have Part II to look forward to now. But you know what I mean.
Then again, let me just express my views on how I think the movie will be:
OMGEPICAHHHSOCOOLSOCOOLSQUEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
Better than the last one even! If the commericals are any indication, this could quite possibly be the GREATEST.
MOVIE.
EVER.
Me and Venom are going to see it on the 16th, but we're also going to have our own launch party, either the night before or after. We have no lives, so it's just going to be us. We're even making matching shirts to where to the movie :D Deathly Hallows or Bust!
Oh my God, we are such geeks.

Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane

Random AIM Lifestream #1

KaylaMcFly is Teenage Venom
Jessyka McFly is me
You don't know anyone else.

Jessyka McFly
What does Nick Jonas even have to do with oats?!

KaylaMcFly
Okay... I'm kind of tired now. Night Night I suppose :)

KaylaMcFly
WIDE AWAKE!!! YEEAAHH!

KaylaMcFly
Shower. Bed. Need Jessyka's help with a story tomorrow because my brain went flop.

Derrick
im sleepy
2 Comments
sgdx08: Wake up;) haha.
KaylaMcFly: Night Night :)

KaylaMcFly
I wish I was St. Fang of Boredom. How does everyone know her screenname Why is she so famous in the fan fiction worlD? Lucky Ducky.
4 Comments
Jessyka McFly: I know right! She's brilliant.
KaylaMcFly: IKR! But she's like 20
Jessyka McFly: I wonder how long she's been writing...
KaylaMcFly: ...Yeah.

Jessyka McFly
I love Romeo and Juliet
7 Comments
KaylaMcFly: Decaying skin peeling off their bodies as the smell fills the air.
Jessyka McFly: That was NOT R&J...
KaylaMcFly: :) That was my brain.
Jessyka McFly: You scare me very much. =)
KaylaMcFly: Thank you!
Jessyka McFly: Welcome.

KaylaMcFly
I want to, like, suck your blood, and like, be your ever loving girlfriend, like, right now! LOL!
Nudge as a vampire?

KaylaMcFly
AH! WTF, BAD FANFICTION ENDING!!!
8 CommentsKaylaMcFly: AHHHH!!!!! WHY!!!!! AHHH!!!!!
Jessyka McFly: Rape?
KaylaMcFly: NO. IT WAS LIKE ALL LEADING DOWN TO FAXNESS. THROUGH THE WHOLE THING!!! THEN... AHHHHHHH
Jessyka McFly: ...Rape?
KaylaMcFly: Fang DIED and max committed SUICIDE. WTF?!!!
Jessyka McFly: Romeo and Juliet spin off?
KaylaMcFly: I don't even know!
Jessyka McFly: Looking back on it... Fang = Romeo, Max = Juliet, Lissa = Rosaline, Dylan = Paris...

KaylaMcFly
Iggy.
5 Comments
Jessyka McFly: OMGIGGYAHHSQUEEE!!!
Jessyka McFly: OMGIGGYHAZWINGZAHHHSQUEE!!
Jessyka McFly: OMGIGGYIZBLINDAHHSQUEEE!!!
KaylaMcFly: O_O
Jessyka McFly: OMGTHATREMINDEDMETHATIGGYHAZEYEZOMGAHHHSQUEEEE!!!

KaylaMcFly
Fanggggg... You stole all the G's to my heart... Or something!

KaylaMcFly
My name is Kayla
Yeah
I'm really cool
Yeah
I fly around
Yeah
And I don't like school. :D

Jessyka McFly
EFF YOU, LARS P. WINTHER!

KaylaMcFly
Fang.
Fang.
Fang.
Fang.
Oh, and one more thing...
FANG.

KaylaMcFly
I dig your DNA.

Jessyka McFly
OMGHARRYPOTTERSHOEZSQUEEE!!

KaylaMcFly
Squeeze the Vlarpin!

Jessyka McFly
Rated T for Tater-Tots.

Jessyka McFly
AHH SCREAM I HEARD OMG!!!1!!
1 Comment
Kayla McFly: ;D

KaylaMcFly
I hate the number nine. It sounds so whiny. Niiine... Ninnnnnee. Meh.

KaylaMcFly
YOP! :D
1 Comment
Josh: POY

KaylaMcFly
Maybe the sixteenth...
OMGTHESIXTEENTHAHHH
YAHHHHH!

Jessyka McFly
HARRYPOTTERANDTHEDEATHLYHALLOWSPART2OMGSQUEE

CHIBIS!!!

Yes, that's right. Chibis. Those cute little manga-cartoon-things with big eyes. I found a website where you can make them (http://www.lunaii-dollmaker.com/) and I've been creating them all day. They're just so dang cute...
And then, of course, my Obsessive Maximum Ride Disorder took over.
And now, ladies and gentlefreaks, I present to you... CHIBI-FLOCK!!!

Max! (Battle scars and signature eye-roll included)

Fangles!

Iggabelle!

Nudgiekins!

Gazzy!

Angel! (Pre-FANG)

I even made one of myself:

AND my OC from Winging It, Snow!

She looks like a Mary-Sue, doesn't she? I'm so glad she's not... And I'm not just saying that to say that. There was a time, long long ago, in the earliest drafts of Winging It, when Snow was as Sue-y as they get. I even refer to that time as the Mary-Snow Era. It was forever ago, though, and she's better now.

This post was rather shorter than usual.

Signing Off,

Sweet but Insane

Ramble, Ramble, Ramble

 School's out! I never thought I would get out of that hellhole (At least for three months, anyway). I have absolutely no plans this Summer, except for get better at updating my fanfiction. A task much easier said than done, seeing as I have ADD, which makes it nearly impossible to write what I want, when I want. It's like I have some mutated-writing-gene-type-deal that just flares up at random moments, usually around the Witching Hour. Since I also have insomnia, I'm almost-always awake at this time.
Of course, just because I don't sleep doesn't mean I'm not tired. So when I write at 3 AM, I'm usually loopy and off my rocker with sleep deprivation. Fortunately, writing makes me sleep better. So I'm prone to waking up in the morning with a killer headache, the lights on, and pens and markers uncapped and scattered about my desk, bleeding ink onto the many pages I have no recollection of writing. Sometimes, the writing is brilliant -- like, my best work. Other times, I seriously wonder if someone put a little hallucinogens in my Fruit Loops.
One example would be the Maximum Ride fanfiction I wrote around Christmas last year, in which Fang meets the Ghosts of Christmas, who are Gazzy, Nudge, and Iggy, respectively. I'll try to post it on fanfiction, soon. I was going to hold off until next Christmas, but after re-discovering and re-reading it last week, I think it's just too great to not post. I don't know when, though, because the optimum time for FF-posting is between noon and four, and I usually don't have access to a non-prehistoric computer that doesn't crash in hysteria every ten minutes until five-ish.
I've also been wanting to do an Iggy/Ella fic, possibly an AH, for a while. A BandFic would be nice, since maybe I could show dem betches a thing or two about music. Or, you know, being in a band. I very much doubt any of those people have even picked up an instrument typically used in a rock band, while I've made pathetic attempts at playing all of them (I can't carry a tune unless I'm singing, and my pitch isn't so hot with that anymore). But hey! I'm a good listener. And I can coax one ditty out of a guitar, but only part of the song. Freak Out by Avril Lavigne. I know the words too, so that's a cool trick. Even though a monkey could play those chords...
Anyway, I'm pretty sure I started that paragraph off talking about Eggy. I think it's really cute -- Plus, I love Iggy. And I can relate to Ella pretty well, I think. But in any case, I couldn't handle an AH Eggy BandFic right now. I'm already struggling to update Winging It, and I'm completely in love with the plot. I don't know how I would ever be able to update something where I'm in new territory with the plot... I mean, I already had to give away my first fic, Chasing Yesterdays. It belongs to KaylaAnonymous, AKA Teenage Venom now. She'll do a great job with it, if only those Project Aero bitches would leave her alone. They're completely wrecking her Writer's Swagga, and such. If she would just listen to people who actually know her, and what they're talking about (Me and our friend Josh), and just freakin' accept that she's a good -- No, great writer and WRITE SOMETHING ALREADY!
I hope you fucking heard me, Venom. I'll send my Mary-Sue after you if you dont update something soon. Preferably Empty Spaces.

The Greatest Poem In The World: Part 2

Previously on... The Zombie In My Locker And How It Got There

To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?

Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray

In the end, the decision
Was sort of made for me
A man driving a bus,
Aged four thousand and forty

It arrived with a squeal of breaks
And an ominous death-rattle
From inside, a small voice shrilled
"I'm gonna tattle!"

It's color was yellow
It's vibe was annoying
Inside me I felt
A sense of dread growing

The door swooshed open
With a hiss and a squeak
The wrinkly old driver
Hadn't moved in a week

On the inside I screamed
On the out, climbed aboard
It's the fastest way to school
I rationalized and deplored

Once inside the aging deathtrap
I wandered down the aisle
Passing screaming children
And a hobo with a pedosmile

One hour later
Chance of survival was bleak
When we pulled in the school
Our sanity mushy and weak

I hopped to the pavement
And sprinted to the door
But I ran into five people
And they fell to the floor

Standing in the hallway
Where we always stand
Were Venom and Jaybrams
And That Guy from That Band

"Guys!" I ran up and yelled
"We've got a situation!"
Venom gasped "Will it save us
From our torturous education?"

Jaybrams screamed, suddenly
'Cause she saw the zombie
So we ran down the hallway
Venom, Jaybrams, and Me

We chased it through the H-S
Screaming "CEASE AND DESIST!"
Ran past Eric and Ryan
And Joey and Chris

It ran up the stairs
And we cornered the focker
It made a mad dash for freedom
Straight to 210, my locker

And it's still in there
It's out of your hair
So fear not, and go STEALTH-KILL! Devin
But I've got a problem
And my problem is...
I'm late for English 7

Okay, I admit it. This is a terrible poem. It's rhyming is half-assed, at best. Rhythm? Nonexistent. But I do -- sometimes -- write serious poetry. Or some crap I make up that sounds serious. And, like, deep. That's why I've started a poetry blog (Accessible from my profile)! I haven't posted anything yet. But I'm going to. Like, right now.
Later much!

Signing off,
Sweet But Insane

The Greatest Poem In The World -- Part One

"The Zombie in my Locker and How it Got There"

Part One

By Me

There's a zombie with the munchies

And he's in my locker
I knew I shouldn't have watched Zombieland
Instead of seeing Little Fockers

There was a close-up of the undead
And then it jumped off the screen
Like Lady Gaga, messed up in the head
And acting really mean

It snarled and growled
And ran 'round my house
It ate half a sports car
And my imaginary spouse

And it was going for me
When I shot it times three
But two bullets missed
And hit the indestructible cat, who hissed

The zombie ran away
Hid under my porch for a while
It built and rode a subway
But it hopped the turnstile

Meanwhile, aboveground,
I was getting ready
I got Iggy, a rocket launcher
And a lobster named Freddie

We stormed in the subway
To take the next train going out
The vendor gave me a key chain
But he charged me five dollars, the lout

We crowded on the subway
It smelled like peanut butter
That, combined with claustrophobia
Turned me into a nutter

A nutter, by the way
Is British for lunatic
Like Ozzy, or Venom,
Or that Jersey Shore chick

"Hot damn!" I shouted
"I think I'm going crazy.
That guy in the corner
Doesn't even look shady!"

We escaped the subway
Iggy, Freddie, and Me
For some reason we were by the ocean
When a voice rawred with glee

"Steve!" squealed me
"Third person much?" muttered Iggy
Freddie added "OMG!"
"GRAAWRR!" warbled Steve

I climbed on a boat
And threw a rope to the shark
And I fired the rocket launcher
It lit up the dark

I commanded "Fetch!
There's a zombie to catch!"
Steve pirouetted across the sea
In hot pursuit of the hungry zombie

By the time that we docked
We were back where we started
My house, the hide-out,
Of the Nearly Departed

The zombie in question
Was crossing the river
Toward the school, where he'd find
Inevitably, his dinner

To the driveway we descended
To make a decision
Should we face certain death
In the Land of No Livin'?

Or should we stay home
And watch Dr. Phil all day
His mustache is distracting
It lead thoughts astray

Bagans Meets Baggins

THANK YOU, AWESOMENESS GODS!

The Snozzberries Taste Like Snozzberries

By now, you've all pretty much figured out that I'm not exactly the babbling 'OMGBOYZ!' sort of teenage girl. No, more like the babbling 'OMGMUTANTZ!' sort of teenage girl. But, let it be known that I am not without weakness: And that weakness comes in the form of... well...

TAYLOR LAUTNER!!!

's hair.

But really, who isn't susceptible to that?

How I've Spent My Spring Vacation (So Far)

• Writing stupid songs
• Attempting to be witty
• Drawing on myself
• Drawing on others
• Finding the onion (See "How Not To Make Peanut Butter Cookies")
• Personifying everything that doesn't already have a name or face
• Drawing faces on bananas/pistachio shells/other foodstuffs
• Yelling and swearing at uncooperative inanimate objects
• Pointing and laughing
• Killing the repo guy on Sims 3
• Slowly losing what little patience I used to possess
• Having a dog nom-nom-nom on my leg
• Not setting anything on fire
• Not making anything explode
• Not making anything implode
• Yet
• Preheating the oven
• Singing a duet with a lamppost
• Going crazier than usual
• Reading Twilight to put me to sleep
• Reading Maximum Ride to wake me up
• Talking to the TV
• Thinking about updating something but ultimately deciding it would be too much effort to log in
• Signing Off,
• Sweet but Insane

How Not To Make Peanut Butter Cookies

Hi there Sunshine!

So it's Spring Break. In an effort to defeat the boredom that comes hand-in-hand with not having a vacation home somewhere with white, sandy beaches (Or anywhere else), Teenage Venom and I banded together to make cookies. Peanut Butter Cookies, to be exact. The process was interesting, to say the least.

Now, we aren't exactly five star baking prodigies, but we don't really suck, either. If Teenage Venom and I were Sims, our Cooking Skill Levels would be in the three-to-four range. That's why the end results were somehow delicious. Compared to the process, it was a miracle, really.
Anyway, before we even started making the cookies, we were goofing around and having a laugh. This somehow resulted in us sticking several miscellanious food items on the oven, which was thankfully off. We named them Apocalypse Cookies, because my mom forbid us from actually baking them, so we were waiting for the Apocalypse, when temperatures would hopefully reach 350 degrees farenheit and bake our cookies.
Anyway, we cleaned all of that out and started mixing up the ingredients. And by "We", I mean Venom read off what we needed while I got it out, seeing as it was my kitchen and I knew where everything was. The recipe called for a measurement of baking powder (I don't remember how much) mixed with a cup and 1/4 cup of flour. Venom read this off to me, but I either wasn't paying attention or didn't hear her.
In any case, I only heard her say "1/4 cup of flour". So that's how much I put in.
Skipping ahead a few steps, the recipe required butter, sugar, brown sugar, one egg, and vanilla extract to be mixed together in the electric mixer until "Pale and fluffy". We compared its paleness to that of my forearm, since I'm the palest geek you'll ever meet. Vampires got nothin' on me.
We were just about to add the flour when my mom wandered in and saved our asses. "Is that all baking powder?" She peered into the bowl worriedly.
"No," I replied. "There's flour in there."
"No way." Mom shook her head. "That's not enough."
"Yes huh!" Venom chimed in. "A cup and a quarter cup of flour."
"Wait--" I said confusedly. "It's a quarter cup. Right?"
"And a whole cup."
"...Crap."
Thank God for Moms.
We added in the last of the flour, mixed it all up, then started plopping it on the cookie sheets. The first two batches came out okay, despite one of each being mutilated by Venom checking for done-ness with a tiny fork before they were even halfway done. Then we had only about enough dough left for two or three cookies. I combined it all into one and dubbed it "Pangea, the SuperCookie."
We opened the oven to put Pangea in, when suddenly...
"Hey... there's an... onion... in there...."
A single onion, the remains of our Apocalypse Cookies, had been charred to crisp for about an hour and was sitting sadly in the back of the oven, smoking slightly. We rescued the forlorn little onion and dumped it rudely in the garbage.
For some reason, I felt the need to take Pangea out before it was done. When I tried to scoop it off the rack to dry, it crumbled into pieces. Kind of ironic, when you think about it. One of the piece was even shaped vaguely like Africa.
They were delicious.

Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane

RANT: I Become A Hellacious Demon-Child In Defense of My Fictional Friends

Hi there Sunshine!
You know what really pisses me off? Maximum Ride Fanfictional cliches. One in particular.
We're all guilty. There a thousands of variations of this cliche, some worse than others. If you haven't written one, you've read one. It's the one where -- Well, I'm just gonna walk you through it.
Step 1 -- Setting the Scene. It's usually All Human (AH). Max and Fang are either best friends or worst enemies (Goes either way), Ella and Nudge are best friends, and Iggy will inevitably end up with one of the two, which will most likely be the extent of his part in the story. A waste of a perfectly good blind pyro chef.

2) Max puts up an unbearably large hissy fit about having to get a make-over. Sometimes to even just go shopping. Which is completely unjustified. I mean, who decided that Max must despise everything girly to the point of... this! There are tons of completely legit cases from the books where Max hints that she might even enjoy shopping once in a while. I point to Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports as proof -- Jeb pronounces Max as "incorruptible", to which Max replies "At least by power. You haven't tried chocolate or cute shoes." Also, her apocalypse rant in StWaOES has a good point.

Besides, why in the hell should she hate it? Just because she's a bad-ass butt-kicking mutant doesn't mean she doesn't want nice things. In AH fics, people are always trying to make them seem canon, but they get Max all wrong.
3) The person forcing the make-over is always Nudge. Usually accompanied by Ella. Now Nudge, I can understand, Nudge makes sense, but why bring Ella into this? She's one of my favorite characters, the one I can relate to the most! What with our love for Iggy, creepily similar moms, and the fact that her half-sister is Max and my BFF Kayla is exactly like Max, we might as well be twins! Also, no where in the books does it hint that Ella is a girly-girl, fashionista, or an OMGTOTALLYAWESOME!!1!!1!11! make-up artist.
4) After the make-over, Max apparently looks soooo hawttt that Fang falls in love with her on the spot. Even if they totally hated each other beforehand. In fact, the author often makes other male characters fall in love with her too, most often Sam or Dylan. Sometimes both.
Supposedly, Max must then go through the heart-wrenching decision of choosing between the two/three. She will probably also suck face with each of them at some point. Which is extremely non-canon. But we all know she'll choose Fang anyway, so who cares?
Another thing that drives me crazy? The Bandfics. Oh Lawd, don't even get me started on the Bandfics.
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FRICK THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT!
You'd think they'd do a little research. The only reason I know they don't know what they're talking about is because my brother has a band.
They have no idea how complicated it actually is to get everything right when you're performing live. Like, how you've gotta do sound checks, you're guitar actually needs tuning, amps have cords, it can be hard for the singer to hear him or herself over the band, it's incredibly difficult to play guitar and sing at the same time. Not the kind of thing you can master right away.
And the positions of the band they put the Flock members in make no sense. It's usually a little something like this:

Max- Vocals, 'cause she's the leader
Fang- Lead Guitar, 'cause he's the second-in-command
Iggy- Drums, 'cause most people think he's stupid for some reason.
And someone like Sam or Dylan on Bass, 'cause no one cares about bass players anyway.

Being the little sister of a bass player, I know that the bass player deserves way more credit than they get. If they weren't there, you would miss them right away. They're the yin to the guitarist's yang, the balance, the rhythm-keeper. That's why I would put Fang as the bassist. He helps balance out Max's snap-decisions.
I would put Max on lead guitar, because she seems like a lead guitarist. Impulsive, fast-paced solos, but can still stick to a plan by jamming out a heavy riff. Plus, it's been made pretty clear that she cannot sing.
Drummers are some of the most stereotyped members of the music world. Why does everyone think drummers are stupid? I happen to have a monster crush on a certain very talented drummer who is not thick-headed in any sense of the word. He's actually one of the smartest people I know. And no, I'm not talking about Iggy, because I would place him as the singer. Think about it -- he's Iggy. He wouldn't be self-conscious about it at all.
And for drummer, I would say Nudge. For the simple reason that the kid has got waaay too much energy. Plus, having a girly African-American fashionista as a drummer of a rock band can help break the stereotype.


A Great FAX Song:
"I'm Only Me When I'm With You" by Taylor Swift. Possibly the only song where every line fits Max and Fang perfectly. Seriously. Go look it up, right now.


Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane

RANT: One of Those Days...

Hi there Sunshine!
Today was just one of Those Days.
You know, one of Those Days that everyone always talks about but never really explains? Yeah. I get it now.

Here are the qualifications to know that you are having One of Those Days:
It usually starts with ominous foreshadowing the night before. As in, you're laying in bed trying to go to sleep when you suddenly remember you were supposed to stay after school in the Homework Room. But since you didn't, you now have an automatic write-up. Which only gives the insane Science teacher another reason to hate you. Yes, ol' Demented DeGlee will have a field day with this, even though you shouldn't have to stay after anyway since you're not even failing.
The next morning, do not be fooled by the fact that you are having a good hair day. This is only fate satisfying their sick sense of humor by lulling you into a false sense of security. After all, what can go wrong on a good hair day?
Hah. Cue humorless chuckle.
By the time you're on the bus, you're already about to explode in someone's face. Namely, your best friend Kayla's horrible boyfriend, Arnold. I swear, every other word out of that dickwad's mouth is not only completely irritating, stereotypical of a classic "Gimme your lunch money" bully, completely disgusting, profane, and sexist, but also So. Fucking. Loud.
And trust me, I'm not usually the type to swear. But Arnold, he brings out the "SHUT THE FUCK UP" in me.
Anyway, classes start out bad and get worse. Science is first up to bat, and if that's not bad enough, Demented DeGlee appears to be as pissed off as me. Like, when I don't have a paper (I skipped bringing my binder ONE DAY, and what do I get?) she starts screaming "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BRING A PAPER AND A PENCIL EVERYDAY" She might as well have topped it off with a good "OR I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING ORGANS OUT". Then she stomps over to my desk, at which I am scrunched up in with my head between my arms, crying because I that's what I do when I get mad (Don't ask me why), and SLAMS down a paper in front of me, then starts obsessively clicking through the slides so there is absolutely no way I can copy the notes down.
After Science is Art. Which would be great, if our teacher knew what the hell she was talking about. I mean, I can draw better than her. 'Nuff said.
Between classes, I was walking out of the bathroom, when who should be on the other side of the door than... HANNAH THE BITCH FROM HELL! I will not even go into what she did to Kayla last year. But she takes one look at me, rolls her eyes and says "Um, ew!" in a whisper that could be heard in New Zealand. I, being rather mature, rolled my eyes in my perfected Bratty Teenager technique and walked away.
A few classes later, it was lunchtime. Usually at lunch, I go with my friends to the uber-exclusive and oh-so-chichi... NERDY BOOK CLUB IN THE ENGLISH ROOM WITH OUR HIPPIE TEACHER!! YAY!!! It's great.
Except today, Mr. English Teacher had somewhere to be, so we had to go to the cafeteria with the rest of the populace. And may I just say, Aiyaiyai! Elbow room is a myth!
Afterward in Study Lab, Kayla spent the time mostly complaining along with me and inadvertantly cheering me up. Mostly because -- and she'll kill me for this -- Her face is so funny! I was having a mad laughing fit at her facial expressions while she just stared at me going "What? What?"
Then Social Studies rolled around and Kayla and I had to do research for our report on Benedict Arnold. We ended up discussing my new nickname for Derrick -- Schkiggledeenyo (I'm always coming up with nicknames for people) -- And wondering how it was even possible that Benedict died from a goldfish disease. Seriously, does anyone know?
Math was a blur, and so was the last period of the day, Magazine. I'm pretty sure I got yelled at, and somewhere along the way I think I staged a silent protest in front of my locker and told my friend Nichole that I was never going to class, EVER. She made me go...
What's the worst day you've ever had? Go ahead, make me feel like a whiner.

Signing off,
Sweet but Insane

RAVE: Darn True Love Always Getting in the Way of Everything!

Well Hi there Sunshine!

Love makes for good theatre. And so does death. Know what makes for a good book? Good theatre. And a love triangle.
So a good book has a love triangle and one team has to die. Or there at least has to be some love lost. Examples? Five out my Top Six Serieses.

Let's start with the most obvious: Twilight. The whole Edward/Bella/Jacob thing was insane. Yet Stephenie Meyer managed to end it in a way that made everyone... relatively contented. Mostly. I think, I'm not a super-obsessive Twihard. But, the whole happy ending, this is the main reason Twilight is number six on my list. Let's face it-- Happily Ever After is sooo last season.

Now The Gemma Doyle Trilogy, THAT'S an entirely different matter. In Rebel Angels there was a small triangle with Kartik/Gemma vs. Simon/Gemma. I myself was rather disenchanted with Simon when he tried to, ah, compromise Gemma's virtue -- or something like that. Although everyone seems to have forgotten about that in The Sweet Far Thing. Seriously. Does anyone else remember that fuzzy scene with the bed after Gemma drank the absinthe? How unchaste, Simon. I'm shaking my head in disappointment like an annoying mom who always knows best.
Anyway, Simon ended up marrying that other girl, Lucy Fairchild and Kartik and Gemma made out a lot, but did they get a happy ending? No. Of course not. Instead, Kartik turned into a tree that eats souls.

The same rules apply to the incredible, indescribable Maximum Ride. I mean, Fax vs. Mylan was a no-brainer -- Or so I thought, until ANGEL came out :'( -- but do you remember the panicked frenzy everyone went into when they heard Fang might die? That was PSYCHOTIC. James Patterson was getting veiled death threats! Then, at the end of FANG, when he left Max,
THE.
WORLD.
CRIED.
It was awesome.

However, on a completely different note, Mockingjay, the third and final book in The Hunger Games Trilogy, was somewhat disappointing. I mean, it was awesome, but the whole Peeta-or-Gale thing. Katniss chose Peeta 'cause Gale got a fancy job in some other District and he was maybe possibly partly responsible for the idea that killed Prim (I think. I'm a bit hazy on the details. But hey! Here's a song that reminds me of Gale: "Wretches and Kings" by Linkin Park). Love me or hate me for this, but I think Gale should've been made unavailable by non-romantic means. Like... death. And keep in mind that I'm only talking about the romantic part when I say it was just too anticlimactic.

Overall, love triangles seem to be a good thing. Unless of course your team loses, which has only happened to me -- twice? In the novel Eyes like Stars, I was for Team Nate, but he got kidnapped as a sacrifice to the Sea Goddess. And Bertie fell for that psycho air spirit, Ariel, the VILLAIN of the story! WTH?

And the heartbreaker: My losing battle in the fight to save Faxness.

Anyway. Love Triangles: Your thoughts?

Signing off,

Sweet but Insane

REVIEW: ANGEL, A Maximum Ride Novel

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!! ELEVEN!!
There is really no better expression than pure, wordless, vocal franticness that can explain what I am thinking right now.
Here's what's going on:
1) I'm shaking.
2) I think I might hurl.
3) I'm beginning to resent emotion.
4) "Electrified" doesn't cover it. This is more like... A bursting nova of raw energy. IN MY BRAIN.
Did I just get struck by lightning?
Sure feels like it.
But no. This is much more urgent...
I finished reading ANGEL: The seventh installment in the epic Maximum Ride series.
WARNING: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!
Now, we all know I'm pretty good with words, but I am really at a loss on what to say. Seriously.
...Well, other than "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH--" But that could go on for days. So I'll just describe my reaction using emoticons! Just imagine them accompanied by a chipper little ding! like on Meebo. Here goes nothin':

=O

=O

=O

=O

=O

=O

=O

Screw it. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Ooh, here's some words for it:
HOLY. FREAKIN'. CRAP.
There. That about sums it up. Isn't my vocabulary wonderful?
I'll tell ya what's wonderful. That Holden Squibb guy, charging at that Mark guy, screaming his battle cry: "I AM STARFISHHH!!!"
So going in my quotes book.
Know what's NOT so wonderful? The... the... God, it kills me just to say it! The (Possible) END of FAXNESS! My antidrug! How can they do this to me?! I'm still clinging on to one last tattered shred of hope, but is it a lost cause? Whenever I think about it, I get all worked up.
And then I think of Holden...
...And I lulz.
Meanwhile, on a completely different note, you should've seen my psychobilly freakout (There's one for yer vocab) when Iggy got brainsucked. And when I thought he was dead. And when I thought Jeb died, for that matter. Not to mention Angel... But it turns out none of got dead at all! Jeb's just... evil, and Angel's just... held in captivity by the Doomsday Group. Being experimented on. Possibly turning evil. Again.
Speaking of which, where DID Dr. M and Jeb wander off to? Crazy brainsuckers. Sorta reminds me of their mysterious disappearane is Phoenix Fanatic's "Diary of a Lovesick Mutant". Except something tells me they won't be engaged when they show up again. Although it would be a huge improvement if the world had as many sex, bacon, and Harry Potter references as Phoenix Fanatic.
While we're on the topic of fanfiction (At least, I hope we're on the same page here. I really have no idea if you've even heard of fanfiction, reader.), did anyone else notice the eerie similiarities between the Comic-Con scene and St. Fang of Boredom's "MangaFlock"? If I didn't know better, I'd say Mister P. has been prowling the archives of Maximum Ride fanfiction. Although I swoon like a giddy schoolgirl at the thought of him even glancing at "Winging It", I really hope he didn't see the A/N where I damn him to Hell.
And now I have this crazy fantasy where he reads the measly 16 collective chappies I have posted and is so impressed that he immediately drops me an email and we collab on the horror novel of the decade which wins a crapload of awards and gets me landed on Planet Instant Stardom and I end up on Oprah and people make movies about my life.
Hey, a girl can dream, right?


Signing off,

Sweet But Insane


A Song That Reminds Me Of ANGEL: "How Far We've Come" by Matchbox 20.